It’s the cats’ meow

CATS, George Lawton Hall, Mossley
THIS Lloyd-Webber show is over 30 years old, which you can tell by the many pairs of legwarmers on show, and sufficient Lycra onesies to have kept a reasonably-sized theatrical outfitter in business for another year.

And of course the deeper you go into this most mysteriously successful of plotless, whimsical, mumbo-jumbo musicals, the prevailing memory is massive overuse of the word “Jellicle”.

But musicals don’t run up theatre legend and longevity without something to grab audiences, and the answer is pretty simple: what the show lacks in almost every other department, it makes up for in its sense of the spectacular. I don’t mean just sets and costumes, but the overall sensation is of an evening that pushes all the right buttons in all the right places.

Which should be a kind way of saying this Mossley AODS “Next Generation” production (limited by licence to performers of 21 or under), massively overreaches the talents involved.

Except it mostly doesn’t. This is the best Mossley youth production since the brilliant “Les Miserables” of 2004 — and that was possibly the best youth production I’ve ever seen.

I’m not a fan of “Cats”, but this production is remarkable. There is a brightness, a confidence and a sense of occasion that infests every member of the huge cast (average age 16, ranging from 13-21).

From the poise of white cat Victoria (Beatrice Hewitt-Lee) to the stage presence of Rhys Nuttall as narrator Munkustrap; from the fun of Tom Davison and Ellie Birtles as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, the swagger of George Griffiths (Rum Tum Tugger), or the touching sadness of Abey Bradbury and Frank Williams as Jellylorum and Gus, every one of these slight characters is given due weight (and a specially-designed costume, beautifully achieved).

Above them all is Jordanne Woodward as Grizabella, whose rendition of “Memory” is the show’s moment of genuine glory. Jordanne hasn’t the most beautiful of voices, but here it is sad and defiant at the same time and rightly brings the house down.

Director and choreographer Gary Jones-McCaw and his team marshal every one of their forces — a superb offstage band, a great John Buckley thrust stage and junkyard set, extravagant lighting and a cast that works its paws off, into a ragingly successful whole.

It’s the cat’s meow: you will be lucky to get a ticket.