Moscow Cats Theatre

As far as I can tell, there are no Jellicle cats onstage at the Moscow Cats Theatre. But there are felines who could be valuable members of the U.S. Gymnastics Team. Not to mention felines who seem unusually comfortable walking on their hind legs and pushing wagons and bicycles, and a whole bunch of cats who, like many of their ilk, kind of lie around and do nothing — except they do so while being carried in the air or around the stage.

While these unusually talented animals are the main attraction of this kid-friendly outing (which runs a kid-friendly 80 minutes, including an intermission), they aren’t the whole show. There’s also a couple of very cute (if underused) dogs on hand, as well as a bunch of — perish the thought — homo sapiens, who more or less dominate the proceedings. (Indeed, there are considerable stretches of the show that are actually cat-less).

That state of affairs may be a disappointment to some audiences, especially those who find the show’s Russian-like clowning to be less than mirth-inspiring. And while one doesn’t expect to be seeing a Cirque de Soleil-like production, watching a bunch of grown-ups in odd makeup run around a set that cost approximately $4.99 can be a bit disheartening. (And the less said about the female clown who seemed to be auditioning for the role of Glinda in Wicked the better.)

It’s not that the humans on stage aren’t sometimes delightful. The main clown, a middle-aged fellow with a rubbery grin, can quickly get a laugh or two hitting himself in the back — over and over and over — with a broom. He also interacts quite well with the audience. (Be warned those of you sitting in the first row, you may be called on stage!) One of the female clowns is especially endearing, especially when shimmying with a bunch of hula hoops that end up looking like a giant Slinky. But some of their routines go nowhere, and the Act I finale, in which two clowns dressed as giant elephants murder the main clown (for reasons I cannot fathom) is not just bizarre, it’s deeply disturbing.

All that, however, is forgotten by the beginning of Act II, which is when the feline stars truly show off. Audience members who can’t get their own cats to obey the simplest command (and that includes just about everyone) will be amazed how well-trained these animals are. Does your tabby quietly sit inside a covered pot until the lid is open? Does your Siamese jump over the backs of four people like a feline Evel Kneivel? Can your Calico walk the parallel bars? (Can you? Nope, neither can I.) Perhaps if you speak Russian, you can find out their trainers’ secret. Or perhaps, like so many things in life, it’s better to just let the mystery be.