What's with all the fuss about, ahem, spilled milk? What'd moviegoers expect, B R O A D W A Y ?
The first three nights' showings (12/19, 12/20, 12/21) included unfinished special effects, yes, but those have been remedied.
What remains, of course, is a film starring celebrities, singers, comedians, and ballet dancers prowling around and prancing about in CGI fur and hissing at one another about inexplicable plot lines. There are countless snarky ramblings across the interweb trying to explain what Cats is about, but don't bother, or just go here.
I did not particularly enjoy Cats, no, but I sure didn't hate it. I accepted it for what it was: a larkish fever dream. (If I'm being honest, though, I do have to say I suspect you'll hate it. At 2.6 on IMDB, most people do! Generally speaking, I'm simply a much more tolerant moviegoer with a VERY high threshold for bad and bizarre films, counting myself lucky almost every time I'm in a theater.)
Anyhoo, enjoy the set decorations, the dancing, maybe a song or two, and leave it at that.
Think about it existentially, philosophically, or critically and you'll likely rob yourself of whatever crystalline specks might otherwise be found in the litter box.
p.s. The principal ballet performer/protagonist/heroine, Francesca Hayward ("Victoria"), is spunky and fun. I do hope Cats does not haunt her to the end of her days, and that we get to see her perform in future vehicles more deserving of her talent.
