Jemi - she/her
Just my CATS sideblog, nothing to see here folks. Part of the fandom for more than a decade - fan of CATS for even longer. I love Asparagus and that's all you need to know about me. (Main blog @ride-a-dromedary)
For those of you who like a good Former-Munkustrap-goes-on-to-play-Gus scenario, may I provide you with Shoichi Fukui (former Japanese Munkustrap and Rum Tum Tugger) singing “Gus the Theatre Cat” and “In Una Tepida Notte” alongside Natsumi Kon?
Some promotional images from Cats at the CPAC Musical Theatre.
Production description undercut (x)
Cats is based on T.S.Eliots 1939 poetry Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, the songs in the musical consists of Eliot's verse set to music by Andrew Lloyd Webber.
On September 3, 1939, Australian Prime Minister Robert Menzies announced that the country was at war with Germany, a sombre moment for a nation still reeling from the losses of World War I. Despite this, the war still felt remote to those on the home front – that is, until December 1941, when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and began advancing through Southeast Asia. Suddenly, the threat of invasion placed Australia directly in the line of fire, as was evidenced by the bombing of Darwin on February 19. Enter Melbourne, where only a quarter of street lamps were lit and even electric trains had reduced lighting. The city's "brown out" period was a response to the danger of air raids, and it had a profound impact on daily life. In this production, amidst this tumultuous time, one unique story stands out – the inhabitants of Melbourne’s Jellicle Cats and the threat of war upon them. This assemblage of cats must decide who will journey to the ‘heavyside layer’ in a process of selection for each nominated cat to be considered to be reborn into a new life. In this newly reimagined production, our "Cats" tell this tale, set against the backdrop of wartime Melbourne in 1942, with a nod to the social changes brought on by the war effort, post-war reconstruction, migration, and the reintegration of returned servicemen into the local economy. The musical features no dialogue, only music, and provides a unique perspective on a pivotal moment in Australian history.
14. Is there a character/ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind?
I wouldn't say "changed my mind" so much as was initially prompted which then spun off into one or two others and some brainworms, but tuggoffelees was definitely one of those things where I just figured "most of the fandom has this handled in a variety of different ways, and I don't really have anything valuable to add nor is it really where my attention usually is at" and never gave it much thought otherwise, but I've since written a couple of things with them and had a lot of fun doing so! So never say never, I suppose.
16. Do people irl know you participate in fandom?
Yes they do! In fact, I very often have fandom conversations with my core group of friends irl (some of our fandoms overlap, and some have nothing to do with one another, but I love listening and getting in fandom by osmosis). I never particularly saw it as anything shameful; if I got made fun of, I got made fun of, it wasn't anything new under the sun anyway.
19. What's your favourite thing about [fandom]?
A. That it's another one of those long sustaining fandoms that continuously revives itself every once in a while, so there will be waves of new things
and
B. Particularly in regards to costuming of ye-olde (see early 2000s), the *creativity* of individuals in this fandom has never ceased to amaze me, considering how cosplay information was so meticulously pieced together based on replica information, blurry photos, guesswork and analysis of pieces, and put on fansites and forums in tutorials (RIP CCDB) so people could replicate pieces and make their own. Incredible stuff and excellent backwards engineering is always insanely impressive.
[jigsaw voice] hello, cats the musical fan on youtube. i've put before you a random performance of the rum tum tugger. if you dare mention john partridge and compare the actor to him, i will behead you.
“I never thanked you,” Alonzo mutters to the wind, pushing the cool damp of his nose between the spaces of Munkustrap's ribs. The larger tomcat has not moved since sprawling beside him a half hour ago; more's the pity, Munkustrap thinks, amused, as his self imposed "break" which he had been hoping would turn into a nap (but the never ending turning cogs of his mind had very quickly vetoed that idea) was only meant to be ten minutes or so.
Munkustrap is hesitant to touch without permission, but he finds an opportunity such as this rare enough as is, and Alonzo hardly seems to mind the gentle pull of claws through the fur of his back. If anything, he is rewarded with a firmer pressure against his side, the softest beginnings of a purr rattling the cage of his heart. He is tempted to say nothing - to allow Alonzo to conclude the drifting of his thought until he reached shore - but if he had learned anything from their short time in one another's company, it's that oftentimes Alonzo needed a buoy thrown his way to keep the rare emotional displays from drowning. “Thanked me? For what?”
“I’m not sure," he answers, muffled and quiet. "If it weren't for you, well...for saving me, I guess.” Alonzo pretends to yawn, punctuating the statement with an attempt at frivolity; as though the promptness of his answer did not suggest he hadn't been working the courage up to say it for perhaps longer than they had been laying there.
He sits up, balanced on the cross of his forearms so they are near nose to nose. Munkustrap pauses, claw catching in the beginnings of a mat. Alonzo doesn't even flinch.
"So...thank you."
Suddenly, his heart is full. It is full and near bursting; he can hardly breathe. Dozens upon dozens of things he could say - should say - gather at the tip of his tongue, but none seem right. None seem to convey exactly the feeling bubbling within him, hotter and hotter until adoration threatens to pour from him like a whistling steam cloud. It only burns steady in his chest.
“Nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility,” Munkustrap teases instead, settling on his stories and poets in that odd, shy way of his. Strange how often he seemed so much larger than life, yet in moments like these he shrunk and wilted. The larger tomcat wrinkles his nose, confused, but before he can open his mouth to object, Munkustrap hastily continues: “I think you did that all on your own.”
They are quiet a moment, staring back and forth in a single, unbroken loop. Munkustrap counts the stars - blinking and shifting in their shapes - reflected in the black of Alonzo's eyes.
The same eyes he eventually rolls, sclera glowing pale in the steady dropping of the moon instead.
“You’re so weird, Munk," he sighs, but Munkustrap can hear how pleased he is - how embarrassed; and when he kisses him, whiskers, teeth and all, the kettle boils over.