She leads me to the wig room. Downstairs past the dressing rooms with green doors where the “Kittens” and “Cats” are cradled — putting on furry costumes, applying the whiskery makeup, preparing for another sold-out performance of Cats at the Adelaide Festival Theater in Southern Australia. “She,” meaning Sharon Case, the woman in charge of wigs for the Cats cast.
“Who’s your favorite Cat?” she asks.
The first character that comes to mind is the glam-rocker Tum Tum Tugger, who slinks flamboyantly across the stage playing air guitar — tongue out, tail spinning — like a cross between David Bowie (when he was still dolled up as Aladdin Sane or Ziggy Stardust) and Mick Jagger (when he still wore his Satanic Majesties cape), leaving a trail of shrieking felines and general cacophony. Throw Adam Ant into the gene pool and you’ll get an idea of what Tugger is all about.
Sharon takes a wig from a rack of yak-haired headgear and puts it on me. I look bonkers, yes. More Gremlin than Growltiger. Less of a Cat than something a cat would drag in. But I think I have managed to understand more about “the musical with nine lives” created by Andrew Lloyd Weber (creator of The Phantom of the Opera, Evita, Jesus Christ Superstar, etc.) based on T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats other than how allegorical and metaphorical it is; other than how it is regarded as one of the beloved tails, er, tales in theater; and other than how readers in the Philippines should expect a spate of cat-centric puns on broadsheets and magazines in the weeks to come.
I look bonkers, yes. But I get it now: I’ve finally managed to get inside the head of a Cat.
The Jellicle Jam
Thus we journalists, with Concertus managing director Bambi Rivera-Verzo, have flown in to Adelaide, the convention capital of Australia, to watch Cats, to talk to insiders (the members of the cast and the technical team), and to find out what exactly it is that makes the show purr.
Cats, which first opened in London in May 1981, is a phenomenal musical, once holding the record for the longest-running musical on the West End and being staged 18 straight years on Broadway. (Dig the playing statistics: 26 countries, about 300 cities, translated into 10 languages — and counting.)
Original producer Cameron Mackintosh once said that many people thought the idea of a musical (even if written by a great composer, Andrew Lloyd Weber) based on a collection of children’s poems (even if created by a great poet, T.S. Eliot) to be directed by a classical director doing his first-ever commercial production (Trevor Nunn was the artistic director the Royal Shakespeare Company at that time) was a “recipe for disaster.” A Shakespearean disaster, even. Since the musical is set in an oversize junkyard filled with the detritus of everyday life (an abandoned car and assorted rubbish), just think of all the spears and arrows from outrageously critical tongues. The catcalls, by Jove, the catcalls. Then arrived bad omens. Dame Judi Dench, who was supposed to play Grizabella in the original production, severed her Achilles’ tendon during rehearsals and had to be replaced five days before Cats’ first preview by Elaine Page. Plus, there was a bomb scare on opening night, sending the cast, crew and audience members onto the frozen streets. But the makers of Cats had “an enthusiasm for the musical theater bordering on insanity.” There’s something special about the music, about the verses (which — according to Eliot’s widow, Valerie — the poet recited when he was unwell or couldn’t sleep), about that one song called Memory (which Trevor Nunn wrote based on Eliot’s “Rhapsody on a Windy Night”), about the journey from the Russell Hotel up to the Heaviside Layer, about the Cats themselves and their quirky names.
They soldiered on, scratched away, kept clawing. The rest is theater history.
Judging from the enthusiasm of the theatergoers at the Adelaide Festival Theater, Cats has lost none of its magic after all these years. Everyone in the theater laps up everything: the music that segues from classical to music hall to jazz to blues to electronic swirls to operatic flourishes (courtesy of musical director Paul White and his battery of keyboards) the comic turns, the wordplay (Eliot’s of course), the tap-dancing, the dancing in general (extended numbers in contrast to the West End and Broadway versions, I‘ve been told), the Aussie actors and actresses hamming it up as felicitous felines and interacting with the theatergoers, plus the animal magnetism of two characters in particular — John O’Hara’s glam-rock Tugger and Emily Keane’s sultry, sultry Cassandra the Siamese Cat reminiscent of Soo (or Sue) the Catwoman during punk music’s year zero in London and that banshee Siouxsie Sioux. Guys wouldn’t mind this Cat sitting on their laps for sure, licking and licking away. My oh my…
Bambi tells me Cassandra is also Francis Lumen’s favorite Cat. Francis Lumen’s All Youth Channels is promoting Cats’ Manila run, and he made sure we’ll have a great time in Adelaide. (Thanks, Francis.)
We get to meet Gus the Theater Cat, Bustopher Jones the Aristo-Cat, Jennyanydots the old Gumbie Cat, Macavity the villain (based on Sherlock Holmes’ nemesis, Professor Moriarty), Mr. Mistoffelees the conjuring Cat (“Oh! Well, I never! Was there ever a cat so clever and magical as Mr. Mistoffelees.”), Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer the pair of Cat Burglars, Victoria the white Kitten, and Old Deuteronomy the patriarch of the Jellicle Tribe who each year chooses which Jellicle will be reborn. Cats with human characteristics? Damn right it’s metaphorical.
But the belle of the Jellicle Ball, of course, is Grizabella played this night by Aussie actress Delia Hannah. The once glamorous Cat — who left the tribe years ago to explore the outside world — wants to rejoin the Jellicles, but they shun her away.
This is how she is. She walks in all her ragged glory, “alone with all the old nocturnal smells,” dragging herself in a coat torn and stained with sand (and sadness, I suppose), her memory throwing up “a crowd of twisted things,” and her mind revisiting salad days and “burnt out ends of smoky days.” At the end, of course, she pleads her case with a song, Memory, and in the process melting the hearts of felines. And the theatergoers also, I am sure. (Except for the woman two seats to my left who kept fingering her cell phone the entire show.) A hair-standing, throat-lumping, goosebump-inducing moment. I have an inkling my colleague Pepper Teehankee (who admits to shedding a tear while watching Bambi and — I am not making this up — Jurassic Park) feels the need to reach for a hanky.
Grizabella the former pariah is finally accepted by the Jellicles and she journeys by the edict of Old Deuteronomy to the Heaviside Layer to be reincarnated. Her dark nights all but a memory.
After the performance, we journalists go on a backstage tour. The Really Useful Company’s Bec Windsor and Pene Quarry show us around, answer questions, and basically let the cat out of the bag.
What Makes ‘Cats’ Tick
Some notes about the production. Bec explains, “(You will notice that) there is no orchestra pit for musicians. It was a deliberate decision by the creators, (because they didn’t want) a divide between the Cats and the audience.” A way of bringing the worlds of Cats and Humans together.
Bec points to the stage-floor, which has to be polished just right: smooth enough for the Cats to make quick cat-like movements, but not too smooth to make them slip and slide off the stage. That would be… a “cat-astrophe.”
Up close, the stage is festooned with “rubbish,” quite a few items taken from tours in places such as Korea, China, Singapore, Hong Kong, Taiwan, among other places. Bob Newell informs us that when the troupe performs in Manila, the backdrop will undergo a slight but noticeable change. Newell explains, “The plate number of the car will be changed, and you will also see maybe San Miguel beer bottles or an SM shopping bag — for local color.”
Musical director Paul White — a fan of Keith Jarrett, Bill Evans, and introspective, romantic jazz pianists — plays a mean, mean Fender Rhodes as part of the quartet that plays on the side of the stage. He says, “The music for Cats is a solid piece. We don’t play around with the instrumentation and arrangement. But the challenge with doing something for a long time is maintaining the standard — and playing every night as if you’re playing for the first time. Otherwise you’re a dead duck (laughs). I never get bored because the challenge is alive. Always.”
White, who worked with Lea in the production of Miss Saigon at the CCP in 2000, admits, “I feel relief after the end of each show. To get to the end without falling off is a good feeling (laughs).”
The composer says he met his Filipina wife during his stint in Manila, and he is looking forward to performing with Lea again. He raves about the fantastic musicians he saw in Manila — from the house band at Diamond Hotel to the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra. “I met a lot of musicians who introduced me to more musicians and singers, and who took me to different clubs. One place I found later on was Cowboy Grill on Mabini Street — with the bands, the crispy pata, and the dancing. I love Manila.”
Really Fine Felines
“(One time) we couldn’t get Growltiger out of the costume. But not much can go wrong (because of the way the costumes are designed),” answers Ron, who was part of the team involved in the staging of Miss Saigon at the CCP in 2000.
“When the Australian production was put together, the costumes were a combination of the London, New York and Canadian productions. The costumes were inspired by street fashion.” He picks up Rum Tum Tugger’s outfit, and says, “Remember the ’80s? Adam Ant inspired this.”
He adds that the material keeps the brightness of the dyes despite the repeated washing and wearing each costume undergoes. “We use stretched nylon — it’s light, very easy to wash, and it’s got a lot of stretch in it.” Since there is a lot of dancing involved, the outfits were also designed to withstand those pirouettes and catlike twirls. Quick change is another consideration. And everything is handmade, even the footwear — sewn, painted, the works. “We don’t buy them from a shop,” he says with a laugh. “And we travel with two washing machines, three (specially-made) dryers and detergents. We travel pretty independently.”
Bec Windsor agrees. “We’re pretty much self-contained. I think we are one of the few musicals coming to Manila as a full unit.”
“Everything’s pretty much streamlined,” says Ron. “We arrive and perform on the same week.”
Like musical guerrillas.
A couple of Cats and Kittens (Stephanie Silcock rocks, by the way) are rehearsing “Warsaw” on stage led by resident choreographer and assistant resident director Sharyn Winney, a vision with reddish hair and disarming smile.
Sharyn, who essayed the roles of Tantomile (during the Australian tour) and Sillabub (for the performances in South Korean), says she misses putting on the Cat costumes and transforming into another being.
“Such hard, hard work, but it’s so rewarding. Now I’m out front every night, watching the show to ensure that the level of creativity is maintained. In every performance, the (cast members) are always exploring and challenging themselves to find something new, so that keeps the show incredibly fresh and dynamic.”
She adds that people in Adelaide (and in the rest of the world for that matter) find Cats so riveting because of its timeless storyline illuminating the quest for acceptance and happiness. “There are different personalities for every Cat that people can identify with. You could see the musical in a deeper level, and you could appreciate the poetry, but you could also enjoy Cats in terms of the amazing costumes and the fabulous numbers — there’s always a moment when something catches your eye.”
Someone who attracts much of the gaze is the Tugger dude played by John O’Hara. Who is he channeling? Bowie? Jagger? Adam Glambert, perhaps?
Wait, there’s more. You also have Keith Richards, Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean, Frank N. Furter from The Rocky Horror Show, Danny Zuko from Grease, Mika, etc. “They’re all there (laughs),” points out John, whose résumé includes stints in Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar.
When John is told that Filipinos will surely be drawn to his rocker cat character, and that groupies might start stalking him at CCP, he answers, “I think they will be following Lea Salonga around more than me (laughs).”
Well, one guy followed him around during intermission because — as the other Cats and Kittens were interacting with the audience — Tugger naughtily got the man’s iPhone, clambered onstage and started tinkering with it.
“The man said, ‘Can I please have my cell phone back?’ He wasn’t too happy with me (laughs).”
But people love the Rum Tum Tugger in general. John remembers his mother taking him as a kid to a Cats production and being mesmerized by the glam-rock cat. Years later, with many musicals under his belt, John was offered the role and he answered swiftly, “Sure! Get me on the plane (laughs)!
He remembers, “On my first night as the character, it was terrifying. Tugger is a big, confident, sexual beast — and I was feeling anything but (laughs). But once you drop from the ramp (which is how Tugger makes his entrance), you become the character, and off you go, you just keep going, and then you say ‘I want to do it again!’”
Having slipped inside the wig of the Rum Tum Tugger himself, I know exactly how he feels.
* * *
Cats will open on July 24 at the CCP Tanghalang Nicanor Abelardo. Concertus is offering group sales for 30-plus to get a 10 percent discount. There are also corporate hospitality evenings. Corporations can also host their key clients, customers, staff and friends as part of a limited number of corporate hospitality evenings. Cocktails will be served in a themed area. For information, call Concertus at 403-2099 and or SMS Kitel Calvelo at 0915-9857830. For ticket inquiries, you could ask the very amiable Bob Sewell and his crew at Ticketworld — call 891-9999 or visit www.ticketworld.com.ph.