The movie adaptation of Cats—despite boasting an all-star cast and featuring the same beloved songs from the stage musical—was widely criticized and largely rejected by audiences.
While the original Andrew Lloyd Webber musical had been a massive success on Broadway and London’s West End, the film failed to capture the same magic and instead became infamous for its unsettling visuals and baffling creative choices. Despite its notoriety, some people mistakenly assume that Cats was financially successful. In reality, it was a significant box office failure. The film grossed approximately $27 million domestically and reached a worldwide total of $75 million.
At first glance, these figures might seem respectable, but they pale in comparison to the movie’s colossal $95 million production budget. In the film industry, a general rule of thumb is that a movie needs to earn at least twice its budget just to break even—since marketing and distribution costs often double the initial investment. By that standard, Cats fell drastically short, resulting in a financial disaster that cost the studio millions.
So why did it manage to bring in even $75 million? The answer lies in sheer curiosity. Many people bought tickets not because they expected an enjoyable musical experience, but rather to witness firsthand what had already become a notorious train wreck. The widespread negative buzz, social media mockery, and stunned reactions from critics made Cats a film that had to be seen to be believed—even if only for the wrong reasons.
The concept behind the film initially seemed promising, at least in theory. The stage version of Cats relied on elaborate costumes and makeup to transform human performers into feline characters, creating a theatrical illusion that worked well within the stylized world of live theater. The filmmakers, however, attempted to merge this approach with the hyperrealistic expectations of modern cinema. Instead of relying on traditional costumes or even stylized animation, they introduced an ambitious new technology called "digital fur," which blended the actors' physical performances with computer-generated enhancements.
What sounded innovative in concept turned into a visual nightmare in execution. Rather than appearing like actors in playful costumes, the characters resembled disturbing human-cat hybrids—uncanny, unsettling, and unnatural. The effect was so jarring that it felt as though a grotesque genetic experiment had gone horribly wrong, creating eerie creatures that straddled the line between human and feline in a way that repelled audiences rather than drawing them in.
Adding to the discomfort were the bizarre details scattered throughout the film. For instance, one particularly infamous scene involved a character played by Rebel Wilson eating tiny, anthropomorphic mice—mice that were, disturbingly, played by digitally miniaturized children. The unsettling imagery of what appeared to be a grown woman devouring shrunken children only added to the overall horror of the film’s visual aesthetic.
Ultimately, every element that had made Cats a beloved stage production—its whimsical charm, theatrical stylization, and suspension of disbelief—became nightmarish when the filmmakers attempted to render them in a hyperrealistic way. Instead of immersing audiences in a magical world, the film instead alienated them with its eerie visuals and baffling creative choices. What should have been an enchanting cinematic experience became an infamous cautionary tale in Hollywood, proving that not every stage hit translates well to the big screen.
