Based on works such as the poems "Prufrock" (1917) and "Ash Wednesday" (1930) and the drama "Murder in the Cathedral" (1935), American-born and naturalized British poet and future Nobel laureate T(homas) S(tearns) Eliot - also founder and editor of the literary journal "Criterion" - was already an established writer when, in 1939, he came up with this series of poems for children, which due to their timeless charm and humorous insight into the feline nature had long become literary classics for the young and old alike before Trevor Nunn and Andrew Lloyd Webber used them as a basis for their award-winning musical "Cats."My favorite rendition of these poems, which were originally a gift from "Old Possum" Eliot to his godchildren, is the 1983 recording featuring Sir John Gielgud and his recurrent stage partner Irene Worth, who alternatingly read the poems and bring to life the likes of Jennyanydots the old Gumbie Cat (who at night displays a show of unexpected zeal in training mice and cockroaches in the art of keeping a clean house), the old "bravo cat" Growltiger (who, already having lost one eye and one ear in battle, one balmy night has "no eye or ear for aught but [the lady] Griddlebone," thus at last making himself vulnerable to his many enemies and "forced to walk the plank"), Rum Tum Tugger, the "curious cat," who very much has a mind of his own and always seems to want exactly the opposite of what you have given him ("For he will do as he do do, and there's no doing anything about it"), and Macavity, "the Napoleon of crime," who controls even notorious scoundrels like Mungojerrie and who is fatefully remeniscient of Berthold Brecht's Mac the Knife in rhyme, metre, name and character.
Sir John Gielgud and Irene Worth bring not only their entire impeccable theatrical training to the project but, more importantly, a great sense of humor and a true feeling for the nature of each feline protagonist - and for their canine adversaries; because, as nobody can seriously doubt any longer by the time when we have reached the last poem, "a cat is not a dog!"
So you truly hear that Chinese vase go "bing!" when Irene Worth tells the story of the eternal pranksters Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer; you see them turning the basement into a "field of war," and you hear the cook's desperation when she has to inform the family that there will be no meat for dinner because "the joint has gone from the oven - like that!" You can picture Old Deuteronomy sleeping or sitting in the sun, and see his slow, ponderous movements as you hear John Gielgud's rendition of the oldest village inhabitant's ever-unchanging comment: "Well, of all ... things ... Can it be ... really! ... No! ... Yes! ... Ho! hi! Oh, my eye!" Reading about "the Awful Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles," Irene Worth does not merely give you the dogs' various kinds of bark; true to character she moreover endows them with their respective Pekinese, Yorkshire and Scottish accents. Similarly, hearing John Gielgud read the story of the great conjurer Mr. Mistoffelees (whose name is another one of the numerous literary allusions hidden in Eliot's verses - and of course this particular cat is "black from his ears to the tip of his tail"), there can be no doubt about the degree of amazement in which he holds his audience ("Oh! Well I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!"); and of course it also falls to none other than great Shakespearean actor Gielgud to tell us about Gus, the old "theatre cat," and his thespian exploits, endowing the four-pawed stage veteran with a dignity that would do any of his human colleagues proud. Irene Worth does much the same for the St. James Street club-going, pompously condescending (and shall we say it? remarkably fat!) Bustopher Jones, whereas Gielgud's voice finally assumes a hurried, but regular pace - much like a train rattling over its rails - as he reads the story of Skimbleshanks, the "railway cat," who keeps the train in order from luggage car to passenger compartments, always ready to assist personnel and travelers alike.
The first and last poems, "The Naming of Cats" and "The Ad-dressing of Cats" are read by Gielgud and Worth together, both in turn taking a verse at a time - and unflappably pronouncing tongue-twisting, "peculiar" cat names such as Munkustrap, Bombalurina and Jellylorum, and lines like the closing of the first poem, which refers to a cat's meditation on his "ineffable effable effanineffable deep and inscrutable singular Name." - You can, of course, always pop in a video or DVD and watch the musical based on T.S. Eliot's poems - but for a closer interpretation of the originals, few versions are as enjoyable as this classic recording featuring two of Britain's all-time greatest actors, at the end of which you truly "should need no interpreter to understand [the cats'] character."
