2019 Flop Whose Variety Review Nyt

The 2019 Flop That Divided Critics: A Deep Dive into Cats and the Battle of the Reviews

In the annals of cinematic history, few disasters arrive with the thunderous, meme-worthy spectacle of Tom Hooper’s 2019 film adaptation of Cats. It wasn't just a commercial failure; it was a cultural event defined by its spectacular implosion. The movie, based on the long-running Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, arrived amidst a frenzy of promotional hype, only to be met with near-universal derision from audiences and critics alike. Yet, within that chorus of condemnation, fascinating and instructive dissonances emerged. The most telling of these was the starkly different perspectives offered by two of the most influential voices in arts journalism: Variety, the industry’s trade paper, and The New York Times (NYT), the newspaper of record. Analyzing their reviews of this 2019 flop provides a masterclass in the differing lenses through which film criticism is practiced and reveals why a movie can be deemed a catastrophic failure on multiple, sometimes conflicting, levels.

The Anatomy of a Flop: More Than Just Bad Reviews

To understand the critical divide, one must first grasp the sheer scale of Cats’ failure. A flop is not merely a film that loses money; it is a project that collapses under the weight of its own ambition, marketing, and public reception. Cats had every advantage: a beloved Broadway property, a prestigious director fresh off an Oscar win for The King’s Speech, a galaxy of A-list stars (Jennifer Hudson, Taylor Swift, Idris Elba, Judi Dench), and a budget reportedly exceeding $100 million. Its opening weekend was a respectable $14.8 million, but its legs evaporated faster than a cat’s patience with a bath. The worldwide gross barely scraped past $75 million, guaranteeing a loss likely in the range of $70-100 million after marketing costs. This was a textbook studio flop, a case study in how not to adapt a niche theatrical phenomenon for a global mainstream audience.

The reasons for the failure were multifaceted and intertwined. First, the uncanny valley effect of the film’s “digital fur technology” was immediately and brutally mocked. The humanoid cats with human faces but feline bodies and fur created a visceral sense of discomfort that overwhelmed any narrative or musical intent. Second, the core material—a plotless series of character introductions and performances—was always a tough sell for a two-hour film. Third, the marketing, which highlighted the star power, failed to prepare audiences for the bizarre, immersive reality of the visual world. The film became a “so bad it’s good” curiosity almost overnight, but that status came too late to save it at the box office. It was a perfect storm of technical misjudgment, tonal confusion, and a fundamental misunderstanding of its source material’s appeal.

The Reviews: A Study in Contrasting Critical Frameworks

This is where the divergence between Variety and The New York Times becomes profoundly illuminating. Both publications panned the film, but their criticisms operated from entirely different philosophical foundations, reflecting their distinct audiences and institutional purposes.

Variety’s review, penned by chief film critic Owen Gleiberman, was a scalding, industry-focused autopsy. Its headline, “Film Review: ‘Cats,’” was blunt, but the subtext screamed from every line. Gleiberman’s critique centered on professional craft, commercial viability, and directorial missteps. He called the film “a furry fever dream” and “a disquieting spectacle,” but his most damning charges were about its fundamental lack of cinematic sense. He criticized Hooper’s “literal-minded” direction for stripping the stage show’s abstract, dreamlike poetry and replacing it with a “realistic” world that made no logical sense. For Variety, a publication read by producers, agents, and studio executives, the review was a warning about the perils of unchecked auteur vision divorced from commercial and narrative logic. It was a critique of process and product, asking: “How did this get made, and what does its failure mean for the business?”

In contrast, The New York Times’ review by Manohla Dargis approached the film through a lens of artistic intent, cultural theory, and aesthetic philosophy. While she certainly found the film bizarre and often laughable, her analysis was more nuanced and, at times, almost sympathetic. Dargis framed Cats as a “gloriously deranged” artifact of its time, a “post-humanist” experiment that accidentally created something “profoundly unsettling.” She connected its visual choices to a long history of cinematic weirdness and artistic ambition, suggesting that its failure was not in its strangeness, but in its inability to commit fully to that strangeness or to find a coherent emotional core. For the NYT, a paper of ideas, the review was less about the film’s place in the box office ledger and more about its place in the cultural imagination—why it fascinated and repelled, what it said about our relationship with technology and the body, and whether its ambition, however flawed, was worthy of consideration beyond mere ridicule.

Real-World Impact: Why the Difference Matters

This critical bifurcation had real consequences for how the film’s legacy was debated. The Variety frame solidified Cats as the ultimate cautionary tale in Hollywood boardrooms. It became shorthand for “this is what happens when you spend too much on VFX without a solid script.” The trade press narrative focused on the financial hemorrhage, the blame placed on Hooper and the visual effects team, and the subsequent reevaluation of similar projects. It was a story about risk and reward.

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New York Times**, however, fostered a more prolonged and intellectually stimulating conversation. Dargis’s analysis opened the door for discussions about the film's artistic merits, its cultural resonance, and its place within the broader landscape of contemporary art. Critics and audiences alike engaged with Dargis’s arguments, debating the film's intentions, its failures, and the implications of its existence. This approach allowed for a deeper exploration of Cats beyond its immediate entertainment value, prompting reflections on themes of identity, artificiality, and the evolving relationship between humans and technology.

The contrasting reviews highlight a fundamental tension within the film industry and critical discourse: the conflict between commercial pragmatism and artistic exploration. Variety’s perspective underscored the industry’s primary concern – profitability – and the perceived risks associated with prioritizing artistic vision over audience appeal. It served as a stark reminder that even ambitious projects must ultimately deliver a return on investment. The New York Times’ perspective, on the other hand, championed the value of artistic risk and the importance of engaging with challenging and unconventional works, even if they fall short of achieving mainstream success. It emphasized the role of art in pushing boundaries, provoking thought, and reflecting the complexities of the human experience.

Ultimately, the differing critical responses to Cats demonstrate that a single film can be interpreted in multiple ways, depending on the lens through which it is viewed. The cautionary tale spun by Variety shaped industry practices, leading to more cautious approaches to large-scale musical adaptations. However, The New York Times’ analysis ensured that Cats wouldn’t be relegated to the realm of pure ridicule. Instead, it remained a subject of ongoing debate and analysis, a bizarre and flawed but undeniably fascinating case study in the perils and possibilities of cinematic ambition. The film's legacy is not simply one of failure, but of a complex and multifaceted encounter between art, commerce, and the enduring power of spectacle. It serves as a potent reminder that even the most disastrous projects can spark important conversations and leave a lasting mark on the cultural landscape.