Tale of some kitties

Cats has outlasted its nine lives. There is plenty of life left in this fascinating feline extravaganza now at the Walnut Street Theatre. With an 18-year streak that ended in 2000, it surpassed Oh! Calcutta! and A Chorus Line to become the longest-running Broadway musical.

The show is now as nostalgic an event as the memories its whiskered stars relive, and the perfect showcase for a rich array of talents. The Walnut Theatre has been transformed to display Peter Barbieri’s curious set of "alley cat" junk. The tap, ballet and jazz routines turn this collection of feline sketches into entertaining theater.

People are drawn to see Cats for good reason. It’s a musical that transports the audience into a fantasy world that could exist only in the theater. It is pure fantasy, and the spectacle is the show.

Andrew Lloyd Webber’s theatrical genius led him to musically adapt the poems in T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats.

The show takes a back-alley approach to Eliot’s hearthside ditties. Barbieri’s Disney-like set transforms the stage into a huge nocturnal junkyard for Eliot’s flighty Jellicle cats. The set is a cat’s-eye view of our world, with the actors dwarfed by oversized trash bins, appliances and spare tires.

Cats has no story line and a bare minimum of social content. It is simply a catalogue of feline virtues and peccadilloes. The cast completes the illusion. Luxuriantly outfitted in whiskers, electronically glowing eyes, mask-like makeup and every variety of feline costumes designed by Colleen McMillan, a capable troupe of singer-dancers quickly sends its fur flying in dozens of distinct ways.

Eliot’s fictional cats are all intriguing characters that come in a variety of flavors. There is the fat and fun Bustopher Jones, the mysterious and magical Mr. Mistoffelees, the criminally inclined Macavity and, of course, the patriarch of the Jellicle clan, the warm and fuzzy Old Deuteronomy. But the character that gives this somewhat fragmented show its glue is Grizabella, "the glamour cat," who returns to the junkyard with nothing but her fading memories.

Evidently, Eliot was more than a pet psychologist, and his Jellicle fantasy world is an allegorical description of our human society, with observations that are both witty and sharp.

But don’t expect any great truths to be revealed: Cats is first and foremost a musical for children, albeit children of any age. Much of the show’s success is due to Webber’s score, contagious and chronic to the mind. The equity performers assembled for this Walnut Street production do a solid job in planting these catchy tunes in the audience’s awareness: the eminently hummable Memory, Jellicle Song, Macavity and Mr. Mistoffelees all resonate with the superb musical and vocal direction of Douglas G. Lutz.

The songs — and Cats is a musical without spoken dialogue — give each cat his or her voice. They are often pastiche, but cleverly and appropriately so. The main form of propulsion in Cats is dance and, while the choreography here is both abundant and spirited, it isn’t always creative.

Webber, a diversified composer, created a score that remains devotedly faithful to the spirit of Eliot nursery rhymes written in 1939, but avoids the stodginess and whimsy through a youthful blend of disco, rock, country, blues and Latin rhythms.

The episode begins with the deity cat, Old Deuteronomy, announcing that one cat will be selected by night’s end to go to heaven — "the heaviside layer" — and be reborn. Sure enough, the only obvious candidate for redemption is chosen at the climax.

The Walnut version of Cats doesn’t seem to have a good ebb and flow, opting for a slow, methodical pace. The first act revels in eccentricity and the second act, with a tumble of story songs, seems to drag on. The gentleman sitting next to me kept looking at his watch.

The audience is treated to a potpourri of whimsically named characters. Old Gumbie Cat (Denise Whelan) tosses off her shaggy and bedraggled accumulation of fat and fur to reveal herself as one Jennyanydots in orange and white layers of vaudeville fringe, leading a chorus in a tap routine.

Michael Brian Dunn sings the show’s most lilting melody in Gus the Theatre Cat and springs back to life in an elaborate flashback sequence. He also contributes a jolly cat about town, Bustopher Jones.

The conjuring cat, the magical Mr. Mistoffelees (Brian Berry), excels in doing wondrous tricks with his feet or his hands, and regales the audience with his sheer output of energy.

To South Philly’s Katie O’Shaughnessey falls the role of Grizabella — the poignant figure of a down-and-out glamour cat — and the task of singing Memory, the Puccini-scented ballad by which everyone seems to judge this show. You won’t be disappointed. O’Shaughnessey’s mesmerizing voice has a metallic quality that hits the mark dead center. As part of her redemption, she ascends to a fog-bound heaven on an automobile tire as big as a flying saucer.

This Walnut holiday production, with all its abundance, doesn’t add up to the old Broadway run, but there’s enough spectacle and great musicality to make the trip to the theater worthwhile.

Cats
Through Jan. 9
Walnut Street Theatre
825 Walnut St.
Tickets: $10-$65
215-574-3550
www.wstonline.org