Smelly-cle Cats

Every now and then a movie is so lousy, it's good. Case in point: Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, a shitfest that has been elevated to cult status. Every now and then a movie is so lousy, it remains lousy (think I Spit on Your Grave, a fright that will leave you screaming for morphine and therapy after viewing). From what I've heard, the new movie version of the stage musical Cats is right down there with I Spit on Your Grave on the lousiness scale. I don't know whether to watch it or not. The only reason I would watch it is to see if it's really as bad as everybody, from eminent film critics to that weird old man who wanders around picking up rocks and eating them, says it is. By the same token, if the movie is that sucky, I don't want to waste my money.

Other reasons I'm not overly keen include:

1. I don't like the show. I have seen a live production, and sat there wondering: What the actual fuck? I know a piece of theatre doesn't need to have a linear plot line etc, but I was just in a state of delirium wondering what the hell was going on in this thing.

2. I got annoyed that people lost their shit because Francesca Hayward, who is a person of colour, is playing a white cat. There was the usual outcry because of 'white-washing', and comparisons to blackface, but people seemed to forget the character is a singing, dancing CAT! Not everything is about racism and cultural appropriation. The character, and I cannot state this emphatically enough, is a freaking CAT!

3. Taylor Swift is in it.

4. I am not overly enamoured with the poetry of TS Eliot. I find his ramblings tedious in the extreme. I recall having to study The Love Song of J Alfred Prufock and thought it would be hard to find a more dreary and humdrum man in all twentieth century literature. These days, he would be considered a potential incel, and if this man wants romance, too bad because everyone will be practically spraining their fingers as they swipe left. We also studied Portrait of a Lady, and sniggered at the loaded line: 'I mount the stairs, and turn the handle of the door, and feel as though I had mounted on my hands and knees'. However, out of curiosity, today I had a quick glance at the poem telling of the hapless sad sack Prufrock, and found myself enjoying some of the language. Maybe now that I'm older, and presumably more mature, I might enjoy the actual poem itself (even if I do think J Alfred Prufock is the dullest man in all Christendom).

5. The word 'jellicle' is stupid. It's more than stupid: it's grating and is like fingernails down the blackboard to me.

6. As a species, I find cats immensely dislikeable. Give me dogs any day.

If I DO end up watching it, I will let you know.