Let the memory live again. Today, producers announced that Cats: The Jellicle Ball will end its Broadway run at the Broadhurst Theatre on Saturday, August 8, 2026. 

Previews began on March 18, 2026 before an opening night on April 7. The show went on to win three Tony Awards last month including Best Direction of a Musical, Best Choreography, and Best Costume Design of a musical. The production will be filmed for the Theatre on Film and Tape Archive (TOFT) at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. 

“Three years ago, Zhailon Levingston and Bill Rauch began the remarkable process of reimagining Cats for a new generation. They assembled a visionary creative team that fused their passions for Ballroom and theater to create something thrillingly new. With a truly superhuman cast bringing this vision to life, New York has once again discovered the phenomenon that has become Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats: The Jellicle Ball. The joy that radiates from the stage each night is unlike anything we’ve experienced in our careers. It has been a true honor to help bring Ballroom to Broadway,” said producers Michael Harrison and Mike Bosner. 

The current Broadway company includes 2026 Tony Award nominee and Tony Award winner André De Shields, Ken Ard as ‘DJ Griddlebone,’ Kya Azeen as ‘Macavity,’ Bryson Battle as ‘Jellylorum,’ Chita Rivera Award nominee Jonathan Burke as ‘Mungojerrie,’ Chita Rivera Award nominee Baby Byrne as ‘Victoria,’ Tara Lashan Clinkscales, Bryce Farris, Elisa Galindez, Chita Rivera Award nominee Sydney James Harcourt as ‘Rum Tum Tugger,’ Chita Rivera Award nominee Dava Huesca as ‘Rumpleteazer,’ Dudney Joseph Jr. as ‘Munkustrap,’ Junior LaBeija as ‘Gus,’ Leiomy, Chita Rivera Award winner and Theatre World Award winner Robert “Silk” Mason as ‘Magical Mister Mistoffelees,’ Ernest Mingo as ‘Etcetera,’ “Tempress” Chasity Moore as ‘Grizabella,’ Primo Thee Ballerino as ‘Tumblebrutus,’ Xavier Reyes as ‘Jennyanydots,’ Nora Schell as ‘Bustopher Jones,’ Bebe Nicole Simpson as ‘Demeter,’ Emma Sofia as ‘Cassandra’/’Skimbleshanks,’ Phumzile Sojola, Kendall Grayson Stroud, B. Noel Thomas, Kalyn West, Garnet Williams as ‘Bombalurina,’ Teddy Wilson Jr. as ‘Sillabub,’ Darius Wright, and Donté Nadir Wilder.

The new musical Giulia: The Poison Queen of Palermo has quite a few things going for it: an undoubtedly based name; some lovely chiaroscuro tableaux on its off-kilter set; and the appealing work of star Jennifer Nettles, who wrote the show upon learning of Giulia Tofana, a 17th century apothecary who, legend goes, sold a proprietary arsenic concoction to women seeking to rid themselves of abusive husbands. As far as ideas for musicals go, this one’s delicious.

Since appearing in Chicago in 2015, but especially after her top-tier 2021 stint in Waitress, the Sugarland singer-songwriter has been candid about her love of the stage and desire to bring this story to life. Nettles’ passion is palpable and often infectious, to say nothing of her gorgeous voice, which is characterful, strong and limber; the kind we don’t hear much anymore in our sanitized conservatory hellscape. As a performer, her hunger to please is a refreshing change of pace and—surprisingly, considering she here acts as creator-writer-composer-star—lacks the ego to craft everything around her talent or character.

Though perhaps maybe she should have. Having its world premiere at PAC NYC, Giulia lays out several promising ingredients which director Mary Zimmerman doesn’t properly batch into a satisfying elixir, failing mainly as a cohesive narrative about Tofana’s life. Its two acts center around Giulia and largely take place at her shop, sure, but there is far too much going on in Sicily to let a memorable character develop.

There is, as you can imagine, an unkind husband (Matthew Amira) who leads Giulia to her murderous path, and maybe a daughter (Aubrey Matalon) whose doomed impending nuptials get the matriarch thinking about women’s lot in life. But there’s also the plague, vaguely, the townswomen with their accompanying spousal gripes, and some mess about a slimy new governor (Christopher M. Ramirez) trying to sell the local cardinal (Quentin Earl Darrington) on his scam for a new aqueduct that will put an end to Palermo’s ongoing drought. All overseen by an unrelated narrator (Bre Jackson) and, evidently, the occult, goat-headed icon Baphomet, who skulks about with Jungian mischief whenever Giulia contemplates her dark side. (This last element worked surprisingly well for me, affixing some indelible spookiness.)

The score—an attractive blend of post-Hamilton hip-hop recitative, pop and tarantella—is bloated at 13 numbers per act which don’t flow in continuous movement. The unfortunate effect, as the narrative barrels forward, is that scarce beats land and even less seem to matter. When Giulia offs her husband very early on, it’s a logical action, but one that lacks emotional expressiveness. Sure, he’s bad = dump him, but the momentous decision, so clearly meant to resonate through to our own age, hardly scratches any psychological surface. Much of the musical’s gender politics play out in this way, sloganeering at us that the townswomen deserve better—fine for a schlockier revenge tale with no time to waste between kills—then asking us for investment where there is no nuance.

I lay the blame at Zimmerman’s feet only because the muchness of the first-timer Nettles’ material feels so pure, so earnestly over-delivered to a collaborator trusted to boil things down to their perfect essence. No ingredients in Giulia’s poison are bad so much as toxically undiluted, extending to the production elements. Ana Kuzmanić’s costumes are period-appropriate but samey, making it difficult to individualize the many, many side characters. T.J. Gerckens’ lighting is Catholically moody, but wasted on Daniel Ostling’s scenic design, which is clever but wasted on itself. The set’s main feature is a large, three-doored armoire that varies as archways, church confessionals, closet spaces and apothecary storage. It’s a stunning invention, endlessly creative, but Zimmerman stations it stage-right and blocks the vast majority of the action in the constrictive, repetitive downstage right—even with a gloriously shadowy stairwell that dies as a largely unused playing area.

With such a potent concept, and with Nettles’ propulsive fervor behind it, the Poison Queen stands to rise again—with a fool-proof, 100-proof staging.

Giulia: The Poison Queen of Palermo is in performance through August 2, 2026 at PAC NYC on Fulton Street in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.

The new musical Giulia: The Poison Queen of Palermo has quite a few things going for it: an undoubtedly based name; some lovely chiaroscuro tableaux on its off-kilter set; and the appealing work of star Jennifer Nettles, who wrote the show upon learning of Giulia Tofana, a 17th century apothecary who, legend goes, sold a proprietary arsenic concoction to women seeking to rid themselves of abusive husbands. As far as ideas for musicals go, this one’s delicious.

Since appearing in Chicago in 2015, but especially after her top-tier 2021 stint in Waitress, the Sugarland singer-songwriter has been candid about her love of the stage and desire to bring this story to life. Nettles’ passion is palpable and often infectious, to say nothing of her gorgeous voice, which is characterful, strong and limber; the kind we don’t hear much anymore in our sanitized conservatory hellscape. As a performer, her hunger to please is a refreshing change of pace and—surprisingly, considering she here acts as creator-writer-composer-star—lacks the ego to craft everything around her talent or character.

Though perhaps maybe she should have. Having its world premiere at PAC NYC, Giulia lays out several promising ingredients which director Mary Zimmerman doesn’t properly batch into a satisfying elixir, failing mainly as a cohesive narrative about Tofana’s life. Its two acts center around Giulia and largely take place at her shop, sure, but there is far too much going on in Sicily to let a memorable character develop.

There is, as you can imagine, an unkind husband (Matthew Amira) who leads Giulia to her murderous path, and maybe a daughter (Aubrey Matalon) whose doomed impending nuptials get the matriarch thinking about women’s lot in life. But there’s also the plague, vaguely, the townswomen with their accompanying spousal gripes, and some mess about a slimy new governor (Christopher M. Ramirez) trying to sell the local cardinal (Quentin Earl Darrington) on his scam for a new aqueduct that will put an end to Palermo’s ongoing drought. All overseen by an unrelated narrator (Bre Jackson) and, evidently, the occult, goat-headed icon Baphomet, who skulks about with Jungian mischief whenever Giulia contemplates her dark side. (This last element worked surprisingly well for me, affixing some indelible spookiness.)

The score—an attractive blend of post-Hamilton hip-hop recitative, pop and tarantella—is bloated at 13 numbers per act which don’t flow in continuous movement. The unfortunate effect, as the narrative barrels forward, is that scarce beats land and even less seem to matter. When Giulia offs her husband very early on, it’s a logical action, but one that lacks emotional expressiveness. Sure, he’s bad = dump him, but the momentous decision, so clearly meant to resonate through to our own age, hardly scratches any psychological surface. Much of the musical’s gender politics play out in this way, sloganeering at us that the townswomen deserve better—fine for a schlockier revenge tale with no time to waste between kills—then asking us for investment where there is no nuance.

I lay the blame at Zimmerman’s feet only because the muchness of the first-timer Nettles’ material feels so pure, so earnestly over-delivered to a collaborator trusted to boil things down to their perfect essence. No ingredients in Giulia’s poison are bad so much as toxically undiluted, extending to the production elements. Ana Kuzmanić’s costumes are period-appropriate but samey, making it difficult to individualize the many, many side characters. T.J. Gerckens’ lighting is Catholically moody, but wasted on Daniel Ostling’s scenic design, which is clever but wasted on itself. The set’s main feature is a large, three-doored armoire that varies as archways, church confessionals, closet spaces and apothecary storage. It’s a stunning invention, endlessly creative, but Zimmerman stations it stage-right and blocks the vast majority of the action in the constrictive, repetitive downstage right—even with a gloriously shadowy stairwell that dies as a largely unused playing area.

With such a potent concept, and with Nettles’ propulsive fervor behind it, the Poison Queen stands to rise again—with a fool-proof, 100-proof staging.

Giulia: The Poison Queen of Palermo is in performance through August 2, 2026 at PAC NYC on Fulton Street in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.