HEAVEN knows what history will make of Tom Hooper’s Cats adaptation, which this week arrives in Skipton. It will, at least, stick in the memory, for better or worse.

The fact is, Cats in film form is nothing short of the stuff of nightmares. Ever since the film’s infamous trailer made its debut, the writing has been on the wall. In a rare twist, it was no misjudgment back then to label the whole thing thoroughly creepy. In spite of some allegedly heavy CGI - ‘digital fur technology’ - tweaking in the run up to the film’s release, Cats is worse than feared.

The threadbare plot hardly helps. Francesca Hayward plays white cat Victoria, who finds herself abandoned on the streets of a bizarrely empty London as the film opens. As though things weren’t bad enough, Victoria is soon subjected to the ritualistic embrace of a band of alley cats going by the name ‘Jellicles’.

One by one, the more significant Jellicles are introduced forth, via songs intended to prove them worthy of ascension to the Heaviside Layer and its promised new life. That’s it. A screenplay by Hooper and Rocketman’s Lee Hall does its best to beef things up, primarily with the elevation of Idris Elba’s Macavity to de facto villain, but there ain’t much there. Instead, a melee of extravagant song and dance routines, not to mention a string of A-list names, are called upon to demand attention.

To the credit of all involved, Cats is not so twisted in presentation that it is impossible to admire the choreography. Steven McRae nails a tap inspired routine for railway cat Skimbleshanks, while French hip hop legends Les Twins embody the film’s successful inclusion of modern dance. There’s pleasing anarchy in the execution of Danny Collins and Naoimh Morgan’s jazzy Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer number and charming naïveté in Laurie Davidson’s portrayal of the magical Mr. Mistoffelees.

As for the names, Rebel Wilson and James Corden deliver comic autopilot as Jennyanydots and Bustopher Jones while Taylor Swift is a revelation as sultry aide to Elba. Judi Dench must be commended for holding her own as Old Deuteronomy, while Ian McKellen, Jason Derulo and Ray Winstone fail to hide their embarrassment. Who can blame them? Here is a film that asks Wilson to scratch her own crotch and eat a handful of human faced cockroaches.