‘Cats: The Jellicle Ball’ review: The most fun you’ll have at the theater this summer

Theater review

CATS: THE JELLICLE BALL

Two hours and 30 minutes, with one intermission. At PAC NYC, 251 Fulton Street. Through July 28.

The hottest show in town is… “Cats”?

Nobody’s said that about Andrew Lloyd Webber’s singing-dancing feline musical since around 1984. But four decades later and it’s true again.

If you somehow find a more delightful and energizing experience than “Cats: The Jellicle Ball” this summer in New York, take me with you.

The inspired production that opened Thursday night at PAC NYC off-Broadway is the first significant departure from the original staging’s groundwork in some 43 years.

And, good Gus, does it ever depart. Especially bold is that the cats are no longer cats — they’re people. That’s a big swing, to say the least.

Relishing the opportunity, directors Bill Rauch and Zhailon Levingston fabulously drop the show in the vibrant world of Harlem ballroom culture: a century-old tradition of fierce competitions involving themed costumes, dance and infectious attitude.

This time, the Jellicles aren’t battling to go to the Heaviside Layer — they’re duking it out for trophies.

Or, in the case of “Memory” chanteuse Grizabella, some long-overdue respect.

Ballroom is not drag, per se, but “RuPaul’s Drag Race” would also not exist without it. Voguing, death-drops and realness all feature in on this runway set by Rachel Hauck, and you don’t need to know what any of that means to have a fantastic time.

In short: Every song is a competition, and therefore gets a category.

For Sydney James Harcourt’s silky-voiced Rum Tum Tugger, it’s “Pretty Boy Realness.” (Of Harcourt, who’s certainly seen a gym, a woman behind me said, “Is his body real?,” as though he airbrushed some abs on.)

Sneaky duo Mungojerrie (Jonathan Burke) and Rumpleteazer (Dava Huesca), with funny Marisa Tomei accents, get “Tag Team Performance.” Macavity (Antwayn Hopper), who has a penchant for snatching designer clothes, has “Labels.”

“Opulence” is the order of the day for Gus the Theater Cat, movingly performed by ballroom stalwart Junior LaBeija.

And I howled at Emma Sofia’s Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat, who’s turned into a sassy MTA conductor. Her category is “Old Way vs. New Way.”

Their runway walks, vibrantly choreographed by Arturo Lyons and Omari Wells, are best embodied by Robert “Silk” Mason’s Mistoffelees, who’s magical indeed.

Jellicle leader Old Deuteronomy decides the winners with dramatic flair. As Old Deut, Andre De Shields’ entrance is grander than those of some European monarchs.

All of these unlikely pieces fit together seamlessly. What surprised me most was that the ballroom concept, beyond its initial rush of novelty, unexpectedly unearths laughs and heartfelt moments that were always there, but were kept down by whiskers and Spandex.

Themes of family and generations coming together had me wiping away tears long before anybody belted “Touch me! It’s so easy to leave me!” And yet it’s still the same basic show we remember. To quote Munkustrap, “Cats” has simply been “reborn and come back to a different Jellicle life.”

Actually, that is partly why this production is such a raucous success. There is no contempt for Lloyd Webber’s musical or its history, as is often the case with revivals deemed “radical,” like Daniel Fish’s “Oklahoma!”

For proud lovers of this score — count me among you — every note is played and occasionally enhanced by club beats.

You’re entering an ALW judgement-free zone. Everybody, onstage and off, clearly loves “Cats,” and more than once I caught audience members mouthing the lyrics.

That lush music is sung sublimely, for the most part.

“Temptress” Chastity Moore’s Griz is emotionally affecting, to be sure. Take away the feline fur coat and you’re left with a lonely woman who’s unfairly resented for long-forgotten reasons. However, Moore doesn’t quite nail “Memory” in the end.

That doesn’t deal a blow to the show, since this version is far more than a one-ballad wonder. But a stronger rendition would lift it up — like a giant floating tire.

Speaking of the old days, when “Cats” played the Winter Garden Theatre on Broadway, the musical’s iconic tagline was “Now and forever.”

For the first time in forever, the show actually feels like “Now.”