Rating: ★★★★

The widely panned 2019 film adaptation did little to dispel the impression that Andrew Lloyd Webber's Cats may simply be too peculiar for modern audiences. The musical, after all, relies on the loosest of narrative frameworks, spending roughly eighty per cent of its running time introducing a procession of felines who inhabit a London alleyway. Yet if Starlight Express — a show in which grown adults portray toy trains — can mount a successful comeback, there is no reason Cats cannot do the same. After all, Cats premiered in the West End in 1981 and ran for 21 years, becoming one of the defining megamusicals of its era and catapulting "Memory" into one of the most widely recognised songs in musical theatre.

Director and choreographer Drew McOnie's high-energy production answers that question decisively. Gone are the dustbins of traditional stagings; in their place is a visceral, magnetic spectacle that stirs and transfixes from the opening moments. Olivier Award-winning choreographer McOnie, known for his work on In the Heights and King Kong, was arguably stepping into the most scrutinised element of the production: Gillian Lynne's original choreography set the template for Cats for nearly four decades, and any departure invites comparison.

Strange, Abstract Wisdom

McOnie's choreography creates startling images of the animals moving as a pack. They flop atop one another, hiss, and flex with a naturalism that feels far closer to real feline behaviour than the pirouetting ensemble of the film. The company appears to have been directed to "act like cats" rather than "do ballet as cats" — an instruction that pays enormous dividends. These are delicate, ingenious creatures, and much like watching a beloved pet, the audience finds itself glued to the intuitive performers prowling across Sami Fendall's pleasingly minimalistic moon-shaped set.

The company is preparing for The Jellicle Ball, an annual gathering overseen by the statesperson-like Old Deuteronomy, who will select one cat to be elevated from stray life and reborn into a higher existence. The animals share their life stories through song and dance: charismatic, Harry Styles-coded Rum Tum Tugger (a fantastic Jaydon Vijn); villain Macavity; the cheeky duo Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer; and Grizabella, the ageing outcast who abandoned the pack but returns seeking a chance at renewal.

Two Moons Above Regent's Park

On press night, understudy Taziva-Faye Katsande performed the principal role of Grizabella, bringing a naïveté to the vulnerable older cat. Her rendition of the celebrated song "Memory" was superb, though her youth made it difficult to convey the wisdom and nostalgia that define the character — a quirk of casting rather than a reflection of her talent. A similar issue arises with Old Deuteronomy: Melanie La Barrie, aged 51, inhabits a role that, in T. S. Eliot's original Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, implies a far more advanced age. The production as a whole skews noticeably youthful.

Still, beneath two moons — one suspended at the top of the stage, the other the actual night sky above the theatre — this revival retains the strange, abstract wisdom of Eliot's verse.

Cats is playing at the Regent's Park Open Air Theatre until 19 September.