“The Jellicle Ball” is an inspired reimagining of the Broadway classic.

In “Cats: The Jellicle Ball,” directors Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch’s inspired reimagining of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s beloved and despised 1981 musical as a ballroom-fueled extravaganza, you can question your 1980s musical theater croquettes and savor them. a new.

The kitty party takes place at the Perelman Performing Arts Center at the World Trade Center, but this affair would elicit a great meow on Broadway if Lord Lloyd Webber chose to bless his well-twisted whiskers. The track could easily be moved directly to Circle on the Square.

Great musicals – hell, great theater – often spring from a really good idea, both radical and obvious. Here’s the central notion here: “Cats” doesn’t necessarily have to be performed by cats. It could be a metaphor, stupid. A community of outsiders (the queer ball world) who knows loss but also how to celebrate their own diversity and triumphs. And she likes to go out at night.

Kittens roaming the aisle are simply your parents’ “cats,” especially after the disastrous 2019 movie that scared everyone with its creepy feline CGI. This abomination even brought down Taylor Swift.

Ergo, why not turn most cats into ballroom queens, call in Andre De Shields and a Gandalf-like wig to end all wigs in Old Deuteronomy, and turn the show into a performative competition with a few winks look at “Six The Musical,” even though the production values ​​make half of Broadway look cheap?

Why not, indeed. As I recall the first time I watched this show, speechless, in 1981, “Cats” was the original musical concept, still set up as a competition for kitten immortality, with only Grizabella heading towards the Heaviside Layer (here, just living freely in New York) to live more of their nine lives. Based on a collection of poems by TS Eliot featuring cats with different situations and personalities, it was constructed to be a series of bravura tricks from Rum Tum Tugger (Sydney James Harcourt), Skimbleshanks (Emma Sofia), Macavity (Antwayn Hopper). , Mungojerrie (Jonathan Burke) and the mother Jennyanydots (Xavier Reyes), recently and flashily choreographed with pizzazz and panache by Arturo Lyons and Amari Wills.

In this version, which begins with a DJ (Capital Kaos) blowing dust off the vinyl of the “Cats” soundtrack (talk about aging some of us) and the audience exhorting not to be trembling kitties like the show’s past but participatory partygoers, the show becomes an homage to New York’s drag and queer ballroom history – even filled with vintage footage of lost ancestors, providing act two with a punch gripping emotion.

The show unfolds around a ring with De Shields’ royal character, Simon Cowell-style, in the seat of judgment. All this conceit is of course a gift for a costume designer, but even allowing for that, Qween Jean knocks it out of the litter box, time and time again. The wigs alone cry out for a Tony.

This is obviously not the first deconstruction of a classic Broadway title, but what differentiates this one from the very cold Daniel Fish “Oklahoma” or the recent “Cabaret” is that this “Cats” does not shock or do not shock. confronting but meeting viewers of different ages and beliefs wherever they land (Rauch, in particular, has long known how to include everyone).

The show, sexy throughout, presents itself as a celebration of love and resilience, timeless Broadway themes that have long proven successful with middle America. and what’s even more impressive (and frankly surprising) is how much respect the team actually has for the material.

You read correctly. They respect “cats”. They honor “cats”. They’re elevating “Cats” and certainly making it work for a new moment where queens now sit on thrones unimaginable in 1981.

There are some fresh, more percussive orchestrations but I know this show well and, as far as I know, they play every note of the score. And speak almost every line, with some animated additions.

“Cats” remaining “Cats”, of course, will never work for some, TS Eliot will be doing a few rounds in his grave this summer, and there are certainly more subtle attractions than this. But this four-letter title didn’t gross millions for decades without gooey, catchy tunes like “Magical Mister Mistoffeleles” and “Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats.” These are strong moments, as is Junior LaBeija’s moving performance as Gus, the old theater cat for whom I have growing sympathy.

This show didn’t completely struggle with the vocal demands of “Memory”, the most famous song and a power ballad here performed by “Tempress” Chastity Moore with a very powerful emotional tone (really) but not enough thrilling soar to top it all. otherwise, a necessity truly rooted in the structure of the show and particularly applicable to this particular treatment.

Yet this creative team, including set designer Rachel Hauck (deceptively brilliant here) had an idea for every moment of the show. I can’t overstate how exciting it is to see an update that, unlike the recent revivals of “Cabaret” and “Oklahoma,” actually adds meaning and gravitas to the original while still respecting the intent from the original author and without being afraid to offer popular entertainment. And give hope.

“Look, a new day has begun,” they sing at the end.

Long live “Cats: The Jellicle Ball”. A tough ticket all summer, I guess.