Cats are natural performers. They keep you in suspense, and wait for their cues. If you look away, you’ll miss the drama.
A few years ago, in thinking about the characters of a few cats I’ve known, I imagined what they would look like on stage in the costumes of famous theatrical roles. For example, when Shakespeare created Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, surely the Bard was thinking, “Mischief!”
Above: “We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wandering moon.” Oberon, in Shakespeare’s comedy, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, can be invisible to humans while he goes about observing them.
There have been real theater cats at least since Shakespeare’s time. I’ve read that 16th-century audiences booed bad actors by making “catcalls”, noises that sounded like “a fence full of cats”.
In the mid-1970’s’, a real cat named Beerbohm was born in London’s Gielgud Theater, when it was called The Globe. He lived there and was know to eat feathers from costume hats, to visit the actors’ dressing rooms, and to occasionally wander onto the stage during a performance.
I’m thinking now, too, of Cats! One of my favorite shows.
But back to my cats in costumes. Here’s a little gallery of famous roles to enjoy, along with lines from the actual scripts. No catcalls, please.
Above: “Oh, my my my my, what an eager little mind,” Auntie Mame murmurs to her nephew, Patrick. “(Takes the list.) You won’t need some of these words for months and months.” Auntie Mame, by Patrick Dennis, opened on Broadway in 1956.
Above: “I’ve snapped and plotted all my life. There’s no other way to be king, alive and fifty all at once.” King Henry II is at the center of palace intrigue in James Goldwin’s play, The Lion in Winter.
Above: “Oh, if only you could understand how poor I am. And fate has made you so rich!” Hedda speaks with irony in Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen’s 1891 drama, Hedda Gabbler. Then the stage directions say, “[Hedda] clasps [Mrs. Elvsted] passionately in her arms.”
Above: “Well, I’m definitely going to get one, because lots of time I’m on the road, and I think to myself, what I must be missing on the radio!” says Willy Loman to his boss, Howard, in Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller. It opened in 1949 and ran for 742 performances on Broadway.
And there’s Hamlet, ever staring out at life passing by, contemplating, obviously opinionated.
Above: “O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious peri-wigged fellow tear a passion to pieces..”. This is Hamlet’s well-crafted catcall aimed at bad actors, in Shakespeare’s tragic play, Hamlet.
So there you have it. Bows. Applause. Curtain. House lights!
Hooray for all clever, magical cats everywhere!
Bravo! Bravo!! Bravo!!!
Wonderful, Deda! Thank you!