When, last year, the shiny new Perelman Performing Arts Center (PAC) in Lower Manhattan announced the shows that would inaugurate its state-of-the-art theaters, a revival of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s Cats set in the Harlem ballroom community raised more than a few eyebrows. The 1982 musical has its devoted fans; the original production ran for 21 years on the West End and 18 years on Broadway. But a catastrophic film adaptation in 2019—and the theater-kid uncoolness that has always pulsated beneath the plotless piece—made it tough to imagine it working.
So, more than a month into its mega-successful run—beloved by critics and audiences alike (today, the production announced its third extension)—how did Cats: The Jellicle Ball pull it off? For one thing, through an honest and open engagement with figures from the ballroom world, some of whom were cast in the show or brought onto the creative team. The creativity is most dazzling in the choreography by Omari Wiles, a ballroom figure who has worked with Beyoncé, Madonna, and Janet Jackson, and Arturo Lyons, another scene icon best known outside the balls for participating in (and, one season, winning) Legendary, HBO’s voguing competition. In this production of Cats, we’re not learning about a mystical group of feline cats hoping to ascend to another life, but getting a glimpse into a community of glamorous humans—predominantly queer and of color—competing for trophies in runway cat-egories.
“I have rarely seen an audience respond with as much joy and love,” Lloyd Weber said of the show in a recent statement. “The atmosphere was, quite simply, electric. Cats and ballroom culture both emerged in the same era and I am delighted that, all these years later, they are intersecting once again.”
To find out how Wiles and Lyons brought ballroom magic into a classic piece of musical theater, Vogue spoke with the pair, as well as two of the production’s breakout stars—Chasity “Tempress” Moore, who lends Grizabella the Glamour Cat an unforgettably poignant air, and Robert “Silk” Mason, who turns in a gag-a-minute take on the magical Mr. Mistoffelees—both of whom also hail from ballroom. These conversations have been edited and condensed.
Vogue: Omari, you were the first one approached. What did you think?
Omari Wiles: My initial reaction was, Why? Why Cats, out of all musicals? And then also, to me, Cats was already gay; it had some feminine-isms in there. But after sleeping on it for a day or two, I started to see which categories in ballroom would fit these characters, and would align with these stories. I could see Rum Tum Tugger being a Pretty Boy; I could see Grizabella being the Glamour Cat that once was a Face diva; I could see Munkustrap being the M.C. and Old Deuteronomy being the icon judge. Then “The Naming of Cats” song [which explains that the cats use different names depending on their surroundings] became interesting to me in how cats are represented. We are multifaceted in ballroom, and that resonated with me. And then, of course, it’s the Jellicle Ball.
There were already two co-directors: Bill Rauch, PAC’s artistic director, and Zhailon Levingston. Why also bring in a second choreographer?
Wiles: The show is dance-heavy, and I wanted to make sure that all the different styles that we have in ballroom were being represented. It would be best for me to bring someone that I’m comfortable with, someone that understands staging, someone that definitely understands ballroom. Because that was the other thing: neither Bill and Zhailon are from ballroom. As much as they can direct, they are looking from the outside in, so I needed another choreographer who would be able to back me up when we needed to be like, “This needs to be ballroom, this has to be this way.”
How did you hear about this production?
Tempress: I was on Facebook and I was getting all these tags. [Lyons and Wiles] were asking for someone from ballroom who could sing and act, so all these people were tagging me. And this was, like, the last day of auditions for the workshop. Then Omari actually reached out to me and he’s like, “Everyone’s tagging you in this post, can you sing?”
Were you concerned about theater people appropriating ballroom culture?
Tempress: I was very concerned about appropriation. We [in ballroom] were such an underground, and now it has become mainstream. You see a lot of people going, “Ballroom this, ballroom that, I’m throwing a ball,” and they don’t know the background, or you don’t see people from ballroom in it. They were very open to what we had to say about ballroom and what happens and doesn’t happen in it. When you have major people from ballroom in it, I no longer really had to worry about appropriation. But the feedback has been really good in ballroom. That’s a tough crowd, and they are loving it.
Silk: I kind of felt like it was going to work immediately. You think about the whole identity of a cat, their mannerisms, and you think about the categories in ballroom and how they all have a different vibe in how you present yourself. That’s basically how cats are, as well. You can’t call a cat for nothing; they come at their own time, and that’s how we work as well. Once auditions started, and we really got into the choreography—the fingers, how their nails come out, their paws—it all made sense.
How did you keep the culture’s authenticity while working on this?
Arturo Lyons: That was always in the back of my mind: It has to be authentic, and I have to keep making sure that these girls know that it’s not just choreography, it’s also the feeling that comes along with the movement. Because if it doesn’t feel authentic, it’s not going to perform authentic, and they’re going to smell that this is dancers trying to vogue.
The cast is a mix of ballroom and musical theater people. How did you get each to tap into the other’s world?
Wiles: We kept letting them know: Y’all are not just a cast of musical theater and ballroom folk. Y’all are a cast of queer community. You have to remember that this should feel natural, because this is the way that we are when we go to the club. It’s how you party when you’re at the club with your friends; your gay friends, your bi friends, your trans friends. That needs to feel the same. Don’t separate or disconnect that because now we’re saying it’s ballroom-meets-musical theater. Show up as that queer boy–girl–they/them in this space as much as you would show up in ballroom, as much as you would show up at a musical theater show.
Lyons: They had homework, before and during rehearsals. Our assistant choreographer, Shireen [Rahimi], and one of the associate directors, N’yomi [Stewart], came up with a packet of ballroom videos for them to study.
Wiles: They gave the cast a lot of information to review. We even had a dictionary of ballroom words that they could study and know how and when to use them. We also did a sort of “vogue school” at the beginning, where they had to walk across the floor practicing its elements. They also gave them a list of clubs and balls that were happening for them to attend, so they could go exist in that space.
What was the feedback from the theater kids after going to the balls?
Wiles: “Wow, it’s late.” The biggest response was, “How do y’all do this?” Because the ball doesn’t start ’til 12 or 1 in the morning, and it’s over at 3 or 4, and we have call time at 10 a.m. Others were a bit overwhelmed because of the many different bodies. Depending on what ball you went to, it could be really crowded.
How was the mixing of the two groups during rehearsal?
Tempress: I was scared to be around these Broadway singers. I haven’t had any training, you know? But they were so welcoming, everybody gelled like a family, and that made it so much easier and better and comfortable and allowed me to express myself with my talents. From the beginning of the workshop, everyone had this confidence in me that, at first, I may not have even seen it myself. So it was love from day one in the room.
How did you find your way into your character?
Silk: For me, knowing that I am a runway diva—I vogue; I’m classically trained in modern and ballet, which is what Mr. Mistoffelees originally dances—I wanted to incorporate that into my performance. The original is very quirky, very fun and inviting, magical and mystical, very energetic, and makes sure that he brings the people in. For this one, I wanted to use my ballroom flair to spice it up a little bit. Whenever the other characters walk the runaway, I wanted to incorporate shade, as I would do on the floor. [For example,] blocking a girl from getting in front to make sure that she stays in her lane, which is behind me. Or, one thing that I love to do, is the, “Who is this next to me? I don’t know, I don’t even see this girl right here” [move].
Tempress: I feel like [Grizabella] is one of the girls who wanted to be accepted so much by society that we separated from ballroom and we went out into the world. Some girls didn’t make it, and they fell on hard times: sex work, drugs, all that. And sometimes, because of ageism, or you may not look how you did before, or sometimes you’re only as good as the last ball that you walk, when you come back into ballroom, you don’t get the reception that you want. That’s where I grabbed Grizabella. She’s one of those girls.
What did that mean to you?
Tempress: After I transitioned, I didn’t really know where I fit in. We weren’t really accepted like that, so a lot of us were living stealth lives. I just fell into other things, and I was so caught up in my transition that I kind of shied away from my talents. That’s why Grizabella means so much to me, because she’s coming back. I stand on the shoulders of the ancestors, of the trans girls who came before me in ballroom who didn’t have a voice, who weren’t as able to speak up about their truth.
Silk: I don’t want to ruin any surprises, but the relationship between [Mr. Mistoffelees] and Rum Tum Tugger is very evolved. I didn’t even know that there was a whole relationship thing that everybody had for the two of them [from previous productions]. When they started to explain this to us in rehearsals, it helped me become more alive with my work because I had never done anything like this before. I’ve always wanted to play a relationship role in a movie or something, but doing it in a play…. It takes nerve. Being who you are onstage takes nerve. Being vulnerable on stage and having everybody be invited into who I am in this ballroom context is special to me.
Was there anything, during rehearsals, that you felt was gimmicky and had to say no to?
Wiles: At first they wanted trash bags for Grizabella [who is portrayed as a bag lady]. We were like, “Umm, She’s a femme queen. She’s back-in-the-day glamor.” Maybe she got, like, an old Louis Vuitton bag or an old label bag that’s ripped up or something, but it’s not like she just got some black Glad trash bags, you know?
Lyons: Being that the directors aren’t from ballroom, voguing seems exciting, so they wanted to keep adding movement in places where it didn’t need movement. In ballroom, you walk in Body, so you’re not dancing, you’re just walking up and down the runway showing off your physique. You don’t need voguing everywhere, and we don’t need to dance everywhere, right? We need to create those moments to make it special.
Wiles: …Which is why getting the cast to really own their queerness and characters had to be their homework. They needed to feel the way that you snap. They needed to feel the way that you threw shade to somebody. We choreographed those moments, but they had to connect to that feeling.
Capital Kaos, a DJ from the ballroom world, is the production’s live DJ. Did you get any input on the music, as choreographers?
Lyons: Yeah. We started out with the original score and everything else just came in pieces, because the music all had to get approved by the Andrew Lloyd Weber estate.
Wiles: The first piece of music we ever did was a remixed version of the overture. Capital Kaos took the overture and remixed it, fully remixed it, and that is what we did the auditions to. And then that got watered down a little bit, because it was a lot. And then we also found out that we could not change the original score’s orchestrations. So when it comes to remixing or adapting, we had to find the pockets of space in the music and insert ballroom. And then we were able to put club beats in the undertones to the score, too.
Did you know you’d have the trademark first production at PAC?
Wiles: I knew we were that first production that the PAC was producing. I knew that they were bringing in other companies and stuff, but I knew that Cats was one that they were betting on. So I was like, “Okay, wow, we got to make sure that this makes money.” And, now that it has, the question is, what will they do next?
Lyons: How do you top this? Where do you go from there? They better call us [if this tours or there is another production]. I don’t think they could call anybody else.
Wiles: I mean, if they want it to be a success, they would need to call us.
What’s next?
Tempress: I feel like this is a start for me. Every time I get on that stage, I’m giving my all so that people know that I’m very serious about this, and I want to continue. You walk a ball like it’s your last time. You’re as good as your last moment. At first I was terrified. I could hear myself thinking about my heartbeat. But now that I’ve gotten past that, I’m more in my groove. People are coming up to me saying I’ve touched them. Because that “Touch me” part [in “Memory”] can mean so many things. [For me, it’s] “Touch me, I’m happy.” I’m happy that I’ve transitioned, so you should be happy for me.