CATS Returns in a Breathtaking Open Air Revival at Regent's Park

There are shows that define an era, and then there are shows that refuse to stay in it. CATS, Andrew Lloyd Webber's iconic sung-through musical based on T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, has been many things over its extraordinary four-decade life: a record-breaking West End phenomenon, a Tony-winning Broadway sensation, a global touring juggernaut, and, of course, the subject of a widely derided 2019 film that the composer himself reportedly cited as the reason he needed an emotional support puppy on flights. Now, in a sweltering summer season at the Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park, CATS has become something unexpected: genuinely, thrillingly new again.

Director-choreographer Drew McOnie, who once appeared in the show himself as a young performer, has mounted a revival that strips away decades of accumulated weariness and replaces it with raw passion, striking visual beauty, and a fierce physicality that makes you forget you ever rolled your eyes at this musical.

A Star Is Born on Opening Night

Opening nights are full of anticipation, but few deliver the kind of genuinely star-making moment that unfolded under the Regent's Park trees on this occasion. Taziva-Faye Katsande, a 19-year-old understudy stepping into the crucial role of Grizabella, took full ownership of the evening's most famous number. "Memory", a song so ubiquitous it has become almost impossible to hear fresh, was delivered with soaring purity and such heartbreaking emotional intensity that the audience seemed to hold its collective breath. It was the kind of performance that launches careers, and Katsande's silvery, lonely Grizabella drifting through the feral chaos of the Jellicle Ball felt like witnessing something truly special.

Reinventing a Classic: McOnie's Choreographic Vision

What makes this production so remarkable is its willingness to rethink almost everything about how CATS looks and moves. Gone are the famously furry bodysuits. In their place, costume designer Sami Fendall (who also designed the curving set, dominated by a great moving moon) has created ingeniously beautiful stretch catsuits of pronounced individual character. These costumes are free and fine and varied, capturing the spirit of street cats rather than cuddly domestic pets. The effect is immediately liberating: these performers look like dancers, not people trapped inside fancy-dress outfits.

McOnie's approach to choreography is the production's beating heart. As both director and choreographer, he has the authority to weave movement and narrative together seamlessly, and the result is a show that feels genuinely sung-through and danced-through in a way earlier productions never quite achieved. The first half operates almost as a choreo-poem, with the vast Jellicle ensemble surging around the stage in exuberant waves. They are gangs and loners, feral and wild, striding and leaping and bending and hissing, moving in eerie unity for breathtaking moments before scattering into ragged individuals on the prowl. It is mesmerising.

What elevates this beyond spectacle is McOnie's understanding of the emotional depth that choreography can communicate. At three separate points in the show, the entire cast lean upon one another in a long row, a simple physical gesture that suddenly speaks volumes about human community and interdependence. These moments are genuinely moving, the kind of theatrical images that stay with you long after the curtain call.

The Ensemble and Standout Performances

From the vast ensemble, individual characters gradually emerge with vivid distinctness. Jaydon Vijn is a rocking, leather-and-fringes Rum Tum Tugger, spitting rebellion with infectious swagger. Charlotte Riby brings quiet dignity to the Gumbie Cat. Elliott Broadfoot, resplendent in spats and white gloves, plays Bustopher Jones as a broad, smug grandee with delightful comic precision. Macavity cartwheels crazily through scenes, celebrating depravity with gleeful abandon, while a battered Old Deuteronomy provides gentler counterpoint, rising to a moving chorale in swirling stage smoke as the wise ancient stoops and bestows his blessing.

If the first half sometimes feels like it lacks big dramatic peaks (this has never been a show with much in the way of plot), the second act, running at a tight 50 minutes, is breathtaking. Gary Wilmot is wonderful as Gus the Theatre Cat, wearing a massive patchwork robe and reminiscing about past glories with perfect comic timing and genuine pathos. His delivery of the Eliot wit is so assured that one can't help imagining what other veteran performers might bring to the role in future. The saga of Growltiger and the Siamese pirates adds a welcome burst of theatrical adventure, and the show builds to an emotional climax that feels entirely earned.

Why This Revival Matters for West End Musical Theatre

The significance of this production extends well beyond one show's run. CATS was the musical that launched the global British musical phenomenon in the 1980s, winning Olivier Awards, a Tony, and eventually an Oscar. But by the time its original London run concluded after 21 years, still using Gillian Lynne's original choreography and Trevor Nunn's staging, it had begun to feel exhausted. The disastrous 2019 film, with its unsettling digital manipulation of human performers, seemed to confirm that the show had run out of creative road.

McOnie's revival proves decisively that the problem was never the material. Eliot's poems remain witty, characterful, and surprisingly profound. Fragments of the Four Quartets and Preludes sit alongside the whimsy in ways that reward close listening. Lloyd Webber's score, freed from the associations of over-familiarity, reveals depths that had been obscured by decades of rote repetition. What the show needed was not retirement but reimagination, and that is precisely what this production delivers.

For the West End and the broader landscape of musical theatre in the UK, this is a powerful demonstration of what can happen when a beloved title is placed in the hands of a director with genuine creative vision and the courage to start from scratch. It sits alongside other recent revivals that have successfully reframed classic musicals for contemporary audiences, proving that the golden age of British musicals still has plenty of life in it.

The Open Air Theatre Setting

It would be remiss not to mention the setting itself. The Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park has long been one of London's most magical theatrical venues, and for a show about creatures of the night, performing under real trees and real stars adds an atmospheric dimension that no indoor theatre could replicate. On the sweltering opening night, with warm air drifting through the auditorium and the great moving moon hanging above Fendall's set, the experience felt genuinely enchanted. The open-air format suits CATS perfectly, lending the feral energy of the ensemble a sense of wildness and freedom that feels organic rather than manufactured.

Should You Book?

Absolutely. Whether you are a longtime CATS devotee who has seen every incarnation, or someone who had written the show off entirely, this revival demands your attention. McOnie has created something that honours the source material while feeling entirely fresh and vital. The choreography is extraordinary, the performances are committed and characterful, the design is beautiful, and the emotional impact is real. If you have ever dismissed CATS as dated or lightweight, this is the production that will change your mind.

Summer evenings at the Open Air Theatre are always special, and this is a show that makes the most of every element at its disposal. Tickets for outdoor summer runs tend to sell quickly, so early booking is advisable.

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