Critics and audiences alike have raved about the feline’s convincing performance as a cat who hasn’t eaten in minutes, possibly even hours.
LOS ANGELES – Buddy the Cat sat on the coffee table, shoulders drooped, gaze fixed on his human.
With a faint, high-pitched mew and a slight quiver of his mouth, his sad eyes seemed to grow even bigger as he watched his pal take a bite of cheese.
“It’s as if he’s saying ‘Et tu, Big Buddy? Don’t we do everything together? Where is Buddy’s snack?'” the normally savage film critic Anthony Lane said. “I’m man enough to admit this scene made me weep.”
Lane wasn’t alone in expressing that sentiment, and as rave reviews continued to pour in, praise for the gray tabby cat’s performance morphed into Oscar buzz, creating a sense of inevitability.
Now Buddy has a new prize for his shelf to display alongside his Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest championship belt, his national bowling trophies and his World Series ring. He’s the first cat to win the Academy Award for Best Actor, cementing his legacy as a master thespian.
“The way he inhabits the role of a starving cat is nothing short of remarkable,” said Christy Lemire, the longtime film critic for the Associated Press. “Logically, my mind knows this is a feline who has never missed a snack, let alone a meal. He’s chubby, sedentary and I doubt he can entirely groom himself. And yet his performance is so committed, so all-encompassing, that I can actually see a starving cat. His acting chops are phenomenal, generational even.”
Those close to the mercurial tabby say he is a method actor who remains in character even when the cameras are not rolling.
“He had me absolutely convinced he was on the verge of starving to death,” said one longtime friend of Big Buddy, Buddy the Cat’s human servant. “I said, ‘What have you been doing to this poor cat?’ The little guy barely has the energy to walk, and his meow is imbued with a deep sorrow, the kind of sadness that can only come from hours of being deprived of snacks.”
A woman who gave only her first name, Melissa, lives two doors down from the Buddies. She sheepishly admitted to breaking into Casa de Buddy to feed the feline while his human was out.
“His meows are tortured,” Melissa said. “I began to wonder: does my neighbor ever feed his cat? Should I call Cat Protective Services?”
Upon entering the apartment and getting her first proper look at Buddy, Melissa said she was taken aback.
“I was expecting skin and bones, not fur and flab.”
Still, Buddy’s performance was so convincing that Melissa said she cooked two thick pieces of filet mignon for the little guy, which he quickly devoured.
“He inhaled them, belched and immediately meowed insistently for more,” she recalled. “I couldn’t believe it.”
Later, she said, she spoke to another neighbor who said she’d fed Buddy meatballs, deli meats and roast turkey that same day.
Not one to rest on his laurels, Buddy is currently considering half a dozen new scripts, including one about a starving cat who goes to space and a Western about a starving cat who has been framed for murder.
“He’s not afraid of being typecast,” said his agent, Ari Gold. “This is his wheelhouse. Fans can’t wait to see what he eats next.”
Pain In The Bud 