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Jesus Christ Superstar
For all of its movement, Jesus Christ Superstar hardly moves at all. It is dry, depressing, unfocused, and ultimately confusing. It certainly has moments of spectacular vision, but they are lost in the over-simplified plot and one-dimensional characters. Not that everyone isn’t trying hard. Indeed, Jesus Christ Superstar is one of the most ambitious films I have ever seen. To transform the life of Christ into a rock opera in which literally every word is sung and every scene is danced to is a lofty goal. Perhaps too lofty. At least Godspell, the other Christ musical, kept it simple and intimate; the main problem with Superstar is that it loses itself in the splendor and grandeur of it all, yet even the splendor and grandeur consist of boring sets, bland costumes, and hit-and-miss songs. Everything seems so fake and stale that the film is eventually stagnant and confusing. This is based on a stage production by the great Andrew Lloyd Webber (of The Phantom of the Opera fame) which is unseen by me. I would imagine, however, that on stage, Jesus Christ Superstar must be a magnificent achievement because its visuals are confined on one stage. In this movie with an entire desert as the setting, it is too spread out, and there are two many empty gaps in between us and the actors. We never connect with their characters, and we never understand the point that the film is making, if any. It begins well enough, setting up the film as a modern-day Passion Play: A bus drives towards some ancient ruins, the cast comes out, gets dressed in ancient attire, and get ready to break out into song and dance. After this grand opening, however, Jesus Christ Superstar loses its momentum and quickly runs out of steam. This is mainly because the film consists simply of interesting ideas that are only half developed. For starters, it is updated into a sort of ancient/modern day hybrid, similar to Julie Taymor’s Titus (a great film) and Graham Baker’s Beowulf (a mediocre film). Thus, characters dress in outfits that are a cross between ancient sackcloth and seventies fashion, and they use weapons that range from swords to army tanks. This has the potential to be a wonderful idea, suggesting that Jesus’ story is timeless and penetrable to all generations. Unfortunately, director Norman Jewison hardly uses this idea at all, and chooses costumes and set designs so drab and devoid of color that we barely even notice their variety. They only manage to create a world for Christ and his followers that make it impossible to feel any joy in his teachings or interactions. On that note, Ted Neeley is all wrong for the role of Christ. Neeley more or less has three notes: Brooding, more brooding, and extreme brooding. How did this Christ ever manage to inspire a major world religion? He seems too busy feeling sorry for himself to inspire anyone. Neeley also looks awkward in the role—short and deathly thin with a cockeye and high-pitched tenor voice. This would not be a problem if every character surrounding him was not so much bigger, stronger, and more attractive. When a handsome, confident black Judas (a superb Carl Anderson) squares off with Christ in a battle of wits, Judas is clearly the winner, simply because he carries himself with more dignity and self respect. Could this wimpy Christ be the effect that the filmmakers were going for? Perhaps, considering the treatment that Christ is given in this film. For one thing, Jesus Christ Superstar seems to argue that Christ was fully man, with no trace of divinity in him. Some Christ films (Jesus of Nazareth, The Greatest Story Ever Told, The Last Temptation of Christ, The Passion of the Christ) stress his divinity so that there is no question that he was God in flesh. Others (The Gospel According to St. Matthew, The Messiah, Godspell, Nicholas Ray’s King of Kings), made by unbelievers, are ambiguous enough to leave it open for interpretation. Having viewed Jesus Christ Superstar and compared it with these films, I don’t think that there is any way that it can be interpreted except as arguing that Christ was merely a man. We are given plenty of evidence that this Jesus is not divine here: He performs no miracles, teaches only the faintest lessons, and refers to God only as a distant “God,” never “Father.” As lepers reach out for him, Jesus panics and dismisses them, saying that there are “too many” and begging them to leave him alone. Furthermore, this Christ simply isn’t that bright. He fails to understand, or at least chooses to ignore, the obviously romantic interest that Mary Magdalene (Yvonne Elliman) feels for him. He argues with God and Judas like a small child throwing a temper tantrum. He revels in the adoration of his disciples, who worship him even though he clearly has given them no reason to. In fact, if Jesus believes that he is God or the Son of God, it is only because of the enthusiasm that his disciples have built around him. They sing and dance and call him “King,” and he seems troubled by the fact but nevertheless embraces their trust and worship of him. He also seems paranoid that his disciples will leave him: He constantly sings, “You will desert me. … You will forget about me ten minutes after I am gone.” Here is a Christ obsessed with his own legacy. If he believes that he is the Messiah, it is only because his disciples have drilled it into his head. Even Monty Python’s Brian Cohen knew better that to listen to a mob full of religious zealots. Surprisingly, the true hero of this film is clearly Judas, who is troubled with how Christ has embraced his own popular image. As Christ sits and teaches the entranced multitudes, Judas watches with disgust from a distance, singing, “Strip away the myth from the man, you will see where we all soon will be. … Every word you say gets twisted around in some other way.” In other words, it is the disciples who have taken Christ’s words and “twisted” them into a messianic message, so that even Christ has believed his own “myth.” The disciples’ motivations seem purely selfish as well: As Christ teaches them, they sing, “We’ll write a gospel [about him] so they’ll talk about us when we die.” Judas believes, correctly in this case, that Jesus has become obsessed, and he is no longer the man who began his mission to preach about peace on earth. Thus, Judas resorts to betraying Christ to the Pharisees and Romans in order to give Jesus a wake-up call and remind him that there is nothing to this legacy that hasbeen created around him. Christ’s humanity would not be a problem with me if the filmmakers had at least created an interesting character out of him. This approach might be irreverent and completely contradictory of the Christ of the Bible, but it is at least an interesting perspective. Unfortunately, Christ is such a weak character that we never understand how this gathering could have ever been convinced that he was the Messiah at all. The film takes place in the final days of Christ, and we never see any of his teachings or ministry. As far as we know, he is just some guy who the crowd decided to randomly pick as their Messiah, and he appears quite incapable of leading such a huge group of loyal fans. That the Pharisees and Romans find him a threat is therefore unintentionally hilarious, because Jesus is so miniscule and weak that we cannot help but side with Judas, who looks on in as much stupefied wonder at Christ’s popularity as we do. The songs are also hit-and-miss, but mostly miss. In a movie in which literally every word is sung, the acting and singing must be top-notch, and Jesus Christ Superstar simply fails in this aspect. Most of the singers are off-key or overact so wildly that we forget what they are singing about. Consider Christ’s song in Gethsemane, when he finally cries out to God about his mission. Listen to the words and you will find a powerful, moving prayer from a man who is finally realizing that his delusions are crashing down all around him. Unfortunately, Neeley paces around and throws up his arms like a drunken sailor, and he hits a piercing falsetto so many times that we can’t make out what he’s saying. Most of the songs are overacted like this. On the other hand, there are some brilliant moments that radiate with energy and poignancy. Yvonne Elliman’s rendition of “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” is very moving, as a good singer contemplates her mixed emotions about her relationship with Christ. The title song is the true highlight, however, and it is a complete showstopper—one of the most effective cinematic song and dance numbers ever committed to screen. Judas sings dressed in white, backed by a choir. Flashing, vibrant colors that we have thus far sorely missed finally come to life and dance around him, and they compliment the song’s themes instead of overpowering them. In addition, the lyrics are riveting as they ask honest questions that most people wonder today—what was the difference between Jesus and other religious leaders, like Buddha or Muhammad? Why should we follow him instead of the others? A
fantastic question. I just wished that the filmmakers had figured
out a reasonable answer to it, one way or another, before they
made their movie. As it stands, Jesus Christ Superstar
is too uneven and depressing to leave any lasting impression.
Despite some promising moments, not enough character development,
depressing sets that diminish the message, bad acting, and self-indulgence
spoil the experience. Like its version of Christ, it fails to
lead us in any direction at all, and seems obsessed with its own
overblown legacy. Cast: A Universal Pictures production. Directed by Norman Jewison. Written by Norman Jewison and Melvyn Bragg. Based on the Broadway musical, with lyrics by Tim Rice and music by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Rated G, though it would probably get a PG today for brief sexuality and a few bloody images. Running time: 108 minutes. Original United States theatrical release date: August 15, 1973.
Questions? Comments? E-mail me: danel_the_tinman@hotmail.com |
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