Francesca Hayward

In Cats (2019), Francesca Hayward moves with enough precision and expression to make us want to watch a dance through. Playing Victoria, she does not need an editor to keep finding something interesting for us. Melanie Oliver’s cuts repeatedly break up the choreography before a movement can be enjoyed. We were frustrated because Hayward had held our attention and the film kept interrupting her. Tom Hooper’s musical is poor, but her performance gives us something specific to regret about it.

Her stage work helps explain why those interruptions matter. Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon (2014) established her as a dramatic interpreter, while her Juliet in his Romeo and Juliet (2015) was noted for its sense of spontaneous discovery. The phrasing matters as much as the precision: a movement can suggest a thought occurring, rather than a difficult step successfully completed. Her Giselle (2018) drew praise for technical lightness and emotional clarity. These are useful qualities for screen acting, provided the film gives us time to read them.

Cats was her screen debut and her first substantial acting and singing role, a change of medium rather than an abandonment of ballet. She took temporary leave from the Royal Ballet to make it, then continued performing leading roles on stage. Victoria’s part was expanded with a new song by Taylor Swift and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Yet the dancing remains the clearest reason to watch Hayward here. The film’s restless cutting and digital fur make that harder than it should be.

In the documentary Audrey (2020), she portrayed Audrey Hepburn through dance. That is another screen role built around movement; it does not yet give us grounds for a sweeping verdict on her acting away from it. What we can judge in Cats is her ability to hold attention without help from a succession of cuts. We would like to see a director trust that ability before asking her to prove anything else.