1000 Cats: A Deep Reading

1000 Cats is a show where Brett Gelman sings about 1000 different cats while dressed in a black leotard and cat ears and also I think a sports bra and spanks. Watch it here

1000 Cats is good. Here are all the reasons I think so– When 1000 Cats begins, you have no concept of 1000 Cats. The opening video has Brett Gelman trying to explain the show to the viewer. Instead, he goes on about the show’s overwhelming significance, stating that the only appropriate place for it to be performed is the Vatican.

It’s because you have no concept of what 1000 Cats can be, that you allow yourself to be taught exactly how to enjoy it. You have no assumptions or preconceived notions when entering 1000 Cats (besides the mention of cats) and so you give Brett Gelman full permission to tell you what his show is about. And when the curtains ascend and the tails of tense violin trills, he tell us. 1000 Cats.

1000 Stories.

9000 Lives. First, you are taught that the show will involve short songs involving individual cats in some abstract, non-coherent, non-structured universe.



Cat number 1 is tons of fun.

Cat number 2 is cooler than you.

Cat number 3 is feeling free, cause he just got released from the penitentiary.

Cat number 4 will open the door to your mind, to your mind, to your mind.

etc. As soon as this expectation is set, Gelman switches to depicting large groups of like cats, with the beginning formations of a coherent society.

The first of these large groups is the Roller Skating Cats (29-199). It’s with their entrance we realize that Gelman can cut our expectations so well because he sets them so well. This nomadic species of cat is characterized solely by their mode of transportation, singing “We’re cats 29-199 and we’re roller skatin’ straight to your heart! Yeah we’re roller skatin’ straight to your heart! Oh baby, yeah. Roller skatin’ cats. Roller skating cats!” Right after are the Furry Funkadelic Felines (Cats 200-299) — the show’s complexity increases as we see the beginning of a vaguely coherent society. This group forming the huddled masses, the bottom piece of Maslow’s Pyramid – all dependent on primal desire, no focus on creation or progress. After this comes a string of consecutive aging cats, starting with Baby Cats (300-310), the Adolescent Cat 311, and the Mid Life Crisis Cat 312 – who’s opening line receives polite applause from the show’s thoroughly directed audience. We get the sense that this is some old fan favorite character in the meta-universe of the show. Then comes the Grandparent Cats 313/314, who sing a beautiful call and answer portion about all the virtues they’ve learned through their strife. This theme is repeated in the whole of the show later on. After this comes a smattering of different cultures of cat, all reflecting their human counterparts in a very simple, vaguely racist sort of way. I’m the British Cat and I drink my tea.

I’m the Chinese Cat and I do Tai Chi.

I’m the French Cat I’m obsessed with love.

I’m the Russian Cat and I’ll give you a shove.

I’m the Italian Cat, eat my pasta fagioli.

I’m the African Cat, I do the dance ritual. As the lights descend you see Gelman taken over by a tribal dance as animals of the Serengeti are superimposed on the backdrop.

The sequence goes on a little too long and makes the viewer reflect on the show’s themes. Up to this point, Nature and Naturality seem to have thoroughly present. All the cats in this universe are a certain way – seemingly just born that way. We imagine that they have known their Cat Number their whole life, even if they have given them self a name ( “My name’s Ben, Ordinary Cat Number 10”. ) As the sequence comes to a close, Gelman looks upwards and shouts “Oh my God!” We see the next batch of Cats.

They are the Robot Cats 500-600, wires for veins, microchips for brains. Instead of meows they go: [robotic noise], instead of hisses they go: [same robotic noise] They are the Robot Cats 500-600, wires for veins, microchips for brains. Instead of meows they go: [robotic noise], instead of hisses they go: [same robotic noise] Although Gelman seems distressed at their arriving, they seem to intend no ill will on the Natural Cats. In a break from the action, Gelman notices that God has come before the cats, saying “Stop! It is God in all his glory!” The audience is left for just a moment to imagine what God’s presence could mean for the situation, when Gelman opens up with a powerful “The machines will be destroyed!” the lights descend and an organ comes alive “The machines will be destroyed!” the audience politely applauds “The machines will be destroyed! Right now.”

This is essentially the act break of the show, and where the style of subversion changes. Whereas in the first portion of the show the main subversion came from the show not having a predictable outcome by becoming more complicated, now its comes from the opposite. Initially, Gelman teaches us that the show is about individual cat characters that generally have nothing to do with each other thematically and do no affect each other physically – through several characters, Gelman complicates the show to the point where we see that all cats exist in the same space, can interact with each other, and their actions will be reflected in later cats (i.e. chronology is present). “Yay! God has destroyed the Robot Cats!” The literal Deus Ex Machina affects a huge portion of the Cat Society by destroying all the robots, so what is the next group of cats? “But wait, do I hear a march approaching? Ten huuuut!” After God demonstrates to the cats that the right way to deal with a problem is through violence, the cats construct a military. And not long after, the green lights that dress the military cats turn red, as swasticas form in the backdrop. Gelman inflects a german accent to confirm that these military cats are now evil.

“STOOOOOOOOOOOP!” Gelman cries, he is God again. “War…does not impress me. War…does not make me glad. War…does not enthrall me. It makes what we have, what we had.” We see now that God is truly learning the nature of violence, and with great resolve, he decides that perhaps it’s no good. With a flick of his hand as if pressing a button, Gelman explains that God has ended all wars and there is finally peace. But only for a moment, as Cat 666 takes the stage, embodying the remaining evil still present in all the cats. But who can save the cats from this evil? It can’t be God, it must come from a cat.



Someone approaches, Gelman converses with himself

“Is that God?”

“No, you fool! That’s not God. He sent his son this time. The Jesus Cat.” It takes an inherently perfect cat to prove to the rest of the cat society that good is inherent in them. Gelman melts into the Jesus Cat with a cool confidence. He stands upright and raises his eyebrows as if to say “It’s not your fault.”



You hear me now? You’re through.” He delicately sings “Your reign of evil is over.You hear me now? You’re through.” In a terrible falsetto he triumph “You’re doooooooooooone!” several times before ultimately erasing Cat 666 from existence. So what happens to the Cat Society now that evil is a thing of the past? “Now that evil is done, it’s time to evolve. All cats become one, all troubles are now solved.” Just as the first act of the show was about subverting audience expectation through complication, the second act becomes about uncomplication. Gelman reaches an apex of complication and through God (the master of the Cat Universe, aka Brett Gelman) slowly uncomplicates it by erasing aspects from the society/the show. The big end piece of 1000 Cats involves Gelman being raised by very obvious wires into a bank of lights. He sings “Cats one through nine-nine-nine, yes we’re walking the bright line.” He commands the audience with circus ringmaster type showmanship to put on the sunglasses given to them at the beginning of the show, or they “will surely go blind.”

Full commitment here allows to viewer to truly be taken away. Gelman is rambling in tongues, spit flying everywhere. Multiple images of him are on the screen, all shouting. Bright lights over expose the picture. Fluttering flutes and the like holding Gelman in the air. It’s amazing just to watch a person truly love an idea.

1000 Cats could be done in a 1000 different ways, and 999 of those ways would be terrible. The only way to make it work is to commit to it emotionally, and not commit to it in a hollow way. Gelman could have easily had the idea for 1000 Cats – a one man musical about cats – and thought “Oh, I’ll really commit to the joke by literally doing 1000 cat characters, one by one.” and this could have been just another uninspired show. Instead he chose to devote real creativity and higher thinking to what is a very silly idea – and it’s only because he chose to put effort into it that it came out as amazing as it did. And to be Gelman, thinking about that, and how it must feel to achieved that, all while also being held 50 feet above an audience entirely wearing sunglasses as you shout nonsense at them – must make for a pretty awesome moment.

Eventually the lights are slammed off with a loud bang and the screen goes black. Brett Gelman’s face slides onto the screen. He says “Now, I bet you’re all wondering who the one thousandth cat is.” Eventually the lights are slammed off with a loud bang and the screen goes black. Brett Gelman’s face slides onto the screen. He says “Now, I bet you’re all wondering who the one thousandth cat is.” The audience waits. “Well I’ll tell you all something! The one thousandth cat…is you.” A single piano plays triumphantly as Gelman sings through the final chorus, going flat on all of the major emotional notes. We’re cats!

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