Of all the panoply of musical theatre staples, there seem to be few that engender such wildly opposing reactions as Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s Cats.

It is, in many ways, the ultimate musical Marmite. It sells comfortably; and whilst its fandom isn’t quite as fervent as, say, Rocky Horror or Six, there are still plenty who don their cat ears, whiskers and makeup to pack out a venue even as sizeable as the Birmingham Hippodrome (where this latest UK tour resides for the next fortnight). But so too are there those who recoil like, well, a cat on a hot tin roof at the very mention of the show (something only amplified by Tom Hooper’s cinematic Hindenburg of an adaptation in 2019).

Stateside, Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch recently gave the show a new, uncollared lease of life by ingeniously infusing it with the New York Ball scene, to present the critically-acclaimed, viral sensation Cats: The Jellicle Ball.

Here in the UK, Olivier-winner Drew McOnie has taken a different approach, yet with no less invigorating a result.

As the latest in his recent barnstorming run of Regents Park Open Air Theatre revivals (including last year’s stunning Fiddler on the Roof), McOnie has delivered up a far less postmodern revisit than its New York cousin, yet one that still dazzles and breathes all new life into a show that many of us have seen many times over.

There’s little understating just how kinetic and complete McOnie’s transformative work is here. As Director and Choreographer, there’s not a trace of replica at hand (or paw) and, much like his work on Fiddler last year, a combination of gorgeous staging, pitch-perfect casting and meticulous finessing revitalises every inch of what Cats can be.

It is another red letter benchmark for what revivals can and should be.

The core, simple premise of Cats remains intact here – T.S. Eliot famously only yielded the rights to his Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats under the proviso that Lloyd-Webber and team didn’t touch the story or attempt to shoehorn in any metanarrative or frills. As such, it’s a whimsical venture into the world of ‘Jellicle’ cats as they come together for an annual ceremony which sees one of them selected for a better life by their sagely leader, Old Deuteronomy (Kalisha Amaris).

It remains a show of staggered vignettes, each mostly based around different prolific cats, such as Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat (Matthew Caputo) or the venerable old Asparagus ‘Gus’ the Theatre Cat (Elliot Broadfoot on multi-role duty). The closest it has to a running through line is the occasional appearance from the fallen Grizabella the ‘Glamour Cat’ (Louise Dearman) who desperately yearns to be welcomed back into the fold.

“Whilst the connective narrative tissue is rather threadbare, any production of Cats boasts a wealth of great numbers…”

Whilst the connective narrative tissue is rather threadbare, any production of Cats boasts a wealth of great numbers, from the instantly hummable opening introduction to the jellicle tribe to the irrepressible earworms of ‘Magical Mister Mistofolees’ and ‘Macavity’ to name but a couple. And it isn’t without good reason that ‘Memory’ remains one of the most iconic and seminal musical theatre classics of all time.

But these are all ingredients previous productions of Cats can boast.

It’s in the choreographic and casting alchemy crafted here that this new iteration truly becomes special. With the soundtrack already a bricolage of musical styles, McOnie seizes this opportunity to concoct a thrillingly eclectic choreographic language, drawing on everything from classical ballet and contemporary dance to street styles and acrobatics. It’s a gloriously fluid, almost ceaseless feat of physical storytelling, with the company slinking, contorting and tumbling through a succession of dazzling sequences. And for all its athletic virtuosity – good luck finding a harder working company in musical theatre right now – there’s remarkable idiosyncrasy and character to the movement, with every twitch and stretch feeling rooted in cat-like behaviour. The result is choreography that feels simultaneously organic and spectacular, and makes for some of the most exhilarating ensemble work you’re likely to see on stage.

Equally impressive is the gorgeous visual world conjured by designer Sami Fendall, whose sets and costumes eschew the familiar furry excesses of the original in favour of something altogether more contemporary, yet no less characterful. Coupled with Jessica Hung Han Yun’s exquisite lighting, the production takes on a gorgeous, ethereal sheen.

When the various disciplines and pieces of design harmonise – which is often – it can make for utterly bewitching viewing – a masterclass in how movement, design and theatrical imagination can coalesce into something genuinely extraordinary.

And of course, much of it rests on the feline shoulders of an astonishing, uniformly excellent company. The aforementioned Broadfoot deserves credit for his infectious comedic instincts helping to make the usual snoozefests of Gus the Theatre Cat and Bustopher Jones not just watchable but highly enjoyable, whilst Jet Yau’s take on Mr Mistoffelees is as jaw-dropping as it is original. Jaydon Vijn is terrific as Rum Tum Tugger, oozing sex appeal and cocksure swagger in a delicious rockstar turn that sees him command the stage with effortless charisma, whilst Kalisha Amaris is inspired casting as a soulful, dignified Old Deuteronomy.

“…her rendition of ‘Memory’ is nothing short of seismic; a devastating, searing masterclass in vocal storytelling.”

But is Dearman’s Grizabella who delivers perhaps the most extraordinary moment of the evening (and beyond). In addition to the delicate, heart-rending authenticity of her few scant scenes, which do so much with so little, her rendition of ‘Memory’ is nothing short of seismic; a devastating, searing masterclass in vocal storytelling. Birmingham audiences get Dearman as their particular Grizabella (the UK tour cycling between three in total), and with one of the finest voices in musical theatre putting on one of the greatest performances this particular reviewer has had the privilege of witnessing, it’s another reason for why this tour becomes a must-see.

Ultimately, this new, ninth life for Cats is a bravura reminder that eve the most familiar – and even divisive – theatrical property can yield some extraordinary new riches in the right creative hands. Its been McOnie’s credo for the past few years, and this is the best thing to happen to cats since catnip.

It is no reinvention for reinvention’s sake, nor does it seek to apologise for the eccentricities of the source material. Rather, it embraces them wholeheartedly, whilst still finding a fresh, thrillingly inventive new visual language through which to celebrate everything that has made the show such an enduring favourite.

Whether you’re a lifelong Jellicle devotee or those who have historically found little to love here, this a production that demands to be seen. An exhilarating and frequently beautiful achievement that doesn’t just gives Cats a new lease of life, but raises McOnie and co’s already high bar for musical revivals.

The cat’s whiskers, indeed.