Also this issue:

Fringe, Interrupted
A Fringe hoax causes a stir at this year's festival.
-Debra Auspitz

That's a Wrap
A mini-guide to Fringe';s last weekend.

The World Famous Pontani Sisters
-Juliet Fletcher

Why I Live at the P.O.
-Lori Hill

David Zippel
-Steve Cohen

How They Got In
A surprisingly rosy view of the college admissions process.
-Justin Bauer

Book Quicks
-M.J. Fine

September 12-18, 2002

artpicks

Cats

It's amazing that one little show about a bunch of singing felines could inspire such reverence and such venom from the theater-going public. Depending on who you ask, Cats is either the greatest theatrical spectacle ever to hit the stage (and there are a lot of people with this opinion, given that the show had an 18-year run on Broadway and is still running in the West End, where it holds the distinction of being the longest-running musical in the history of British theater), or it's a festering pile of kitty poop that very badly needs to be thrown out with the litter. What is agreed upon is that Cats is a cultural phenomenon (complete with its own Saturday Night Live catchphrase -- "I laughed. I cried. It was better than Cats") that refuses to be ignored. Based on T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, the musical takes various anthropomorphic cat characters and pairs them with schmaltzy Andrew Lloyd Webber anthems that sometimes hit (cynicism be damned, "Macavity" is a catchy tune) and often miss (it really was either divine intervention or well-placed copyright laws that saved us from hearing an American Idol contestant belt out "Memory.") In the end, though, it doesn't matter what any of us think -- Cats will go on forever. And we'll never know what the hell Jellicle means.

Cats, Sept. 17-Sept. 29, $35-$65, Merriam Theater, 250 S. Broad St., 215-336-1234.

—Debra Auspitz