What we have here is effectively a "nature runs amok" flick of the kind that has cheaply filled in the edges of the adventure, sci-fi, and horror genres for decades. The only difference is that the animals representing the antagonistic force of nature in this feature are stray cats; take that as you will. Factor in the picture's nature as a TV movie originally broadcast on the USA Network, and one way or another, we're in for a bit of a ride.
The character writing is quite formulaic; these figures are basically walking clichés. The chief cast assembled to portray them are faces familiar to moviegoers and channel-surfers from the early 90s, as Kathleen Quinlin, Timothy Busfield, and Claudia Christian are readily recognizable. They do their part to ably fill the roles they are given, and we've seen elsewhere what they're capable of, but here they're limited by very straightforward, uncomplicated writing. There are no real surprises in the narrative, and scene writing and dialogue is simply suitable. None of this is outright bad, but it is very ordinary, unremarkable, and all but pedestrian. As a result, what tension, suspense, or thrills we get are more perfunctory than they are visceral and impactful. It's written and shot in the style of a horror-thriller, but only manages to be passingly entertaining and enjoyable at even its most dire moments.
Merely adequate as the craft is in all meaningful ways, these are not even my greatest concern regarding 'Strays.' It's hard not to think that stories like this were not just borne from but also actively contributed to centuries-old misinformed superstitions and beliefs, misplaced fears, and general misunderstanding of felines that still persists today, leading to abuse, neglect, and otherwise animal cruelty. The feral colony at the center of the film is portrayed with a definite lack of realism - organized, consciously malicious, and extraordinarily violent. This movie is the embodiment of not just a phobia, but abject hatred of cats as further cemented in the somewhat bumbling husband and some of his dialogue. A few sparing lines from a veterinarian (William Boyett, another very visible face of film and TV) would seem to stand as a voice of reason ("What we're talking about here is a cat. Get a grip on yourself!"), but fail to achieve balance given the clear, overwhelming thrust of the narrative. I'm honestly a bit taken aback that the observers of the American Humane Society, who according to the credits affirmed that "no animals were harmed or injured," gave a pass on a movie that so concretely demonizes cats.
There are worse things you could watch than this. But it's a frankly common, average TV movie production, and while as a cat lover the very appearance of the felines earns at least a small point of favor, that modicum of worth - and what stimulation we should and would get out of this as a genre piece - is effectively negated by the way the film and its characters treat cats. A strong content warning is necessary for animal cruelty, in general but specifically at the climax, and neglect. There are things about this I want to like, but in my opinion 'Strays' is overall too undistinguished at best, and at worst too dicey and suspect, to truly enjoy.
The character writing is quite formulaic; these figures are basically walking clichés. The chief cast assembled to portray them are faces familiar to moviegoers and channel-surfers from the early 90s, as Kathleen Quinlin, Timothy Busfield, and Claudia Christian are readily recognizable. They do their part to ably fill the roles they are given, and we've seen elsewhere what they're capable of, but here they're limited by very straightforward, uncomplicated writing. There are no real surprises in the narrative, and scene writing and dialogue is simply suitable. None of this is outright bad, but it is very ordinary, unremarkable, and all but pedestrian. As a result, what tension, suspense, or thrills we get are more perfunctory than they are visceral and impactful. It's written and shot in the style of a horror-thriller, but only manages to be passingly entertaining and enjoyable at even its most dire moments.
Merely adequate as the craft is in all meaningful ways, these are not even my greatest concern regarding 'Strays.' It's hard not to think that stories like this were not just borne from but also actively contributed to centuries-old misinformed superstitions and beliefs, misplaced fears, and general misunderstanding of felines that still persists today, leading to abuse, neglect, and otherwise animal cruelty. The feral colony at the center of the film is portrayed with a definite lack of realism - organized, consciously malicious, and extraordinarily violent. This movie is the embodiment of not just a phobia, but abject hatred of cats as further cemented in the somewhat bumbling husband and some of his dialogue. A few sparing lines from a veterinarian (William Boyett, another very visible face of film and TV) would seem to stand as a voice of reason ("What we're talking about here is a cat. Get a grip on yourself!"), but fail to achieve balance given the clear, overwhelming thrust of the narrative. I'm honestly a bit taken aback that the observers of the American Humane Society, who according to the credits affirmed that "no animals were harmed or injured," gave a pass on a movie that so concretely demonizes cats.
There are worse things you could watch than this. But it's a frankly common, average TV movie production, and while as a cat lover the very appearance of the felines earns at least a small point of favor, that modicum of worth - and what stimulation we should and would get out of this as a genre piece - is effectively negated by the way the film and its characters treat cats. A strong content warning is necessary for animal cruelty, in general but specifically at the climax, and neglect. There are things about this I want to like, but in my opinion 'Strays' is overall too undistinguished at best, and at worst too dicey and suspect, to truly enjoy.