To be completely fair, Andrew Lloyd Webber's Jesus Christ Superstar was always something of a silly idea. People singing and dancing to rock-operatic tunes, all while trying to convey the gravity of The Book. Pretty silly stuff. But what made Superstar such a kick was its unbridled bravado; the musical seemed to know what it was getting into, and provided patrons with what is probably Webber's most effective score to date, filled with exciting numbers that the Broadway of today seems to forego.
Okay, that is exactly where my praise will end in this case, since this revival of Superstar is rotten to the core. Possibly the worst production ever mounted for a mass audience, it is a jaw-dropping failure in absolutely every possible respect, with not one original idea in the whole ordeal. Updated to the Rent era (a show this one egregiously rips off at any possible interval), Jesus has now found himself amidst rebels and punks who follow him on his crusade. Director Gale Edwards includes visual aids such as graffiti and the NYSE (!) to give us a sense that Jesus is still with us. Please. The show is so stupefyingly awful it even forgets to be cheerfully disreputable. There isn't a solitary moment in the play that is light or affectionate, and everything is amped up to complete bombast. This, of course, makes several moments hilarious (unintentionally, of course), but the affair is so depressing, it's hard to laugh without wanting to scream too.
When casting Jesus, it always helps to have someone with an angelic voice that matches the Man's mystique and presence. Unfortunately, this production's Famed One, Glenn Carter, can do neither. He is a wooden, uncharismatic performer and doesn't seem like he could lead a Starbucks revolt in Wichita, let alone an entire religious faith. A Webber standby according to press materials, Carter also has a falsetto that's distressingly wrong for the role. He sounds like a cat prodded with a hot poker, exactly at the moments when his voice should lift the Ford Center. His co-stars, Tony Vincent (Judas) and Maya Days (Mary Magdalene), are better singers, but confined to the cavernous Ford Center's horrible sound design, they barely seem to fill half the auditorium.
Even the technical credits are mussed here, the set design is sinfully ugly and nondescript, the costume design is smarmy, and the lighting design is so clumsy it would make Martha Stewart hold her head in shame.
Which brings me to the question: Who on Earth is going to like this revival? My answer is not a soul. There is no spectacle (unless people climbing walls gets you all warm and fuzzy), the already paltry story is barely set up, so investing an emotional interest is futile, and most disgracefully, the whole mess has a disjointed, defeatist quality to it that makes it an unremittingly dour experience. This is also a less-than-ideal venture for families, as it has no hopeful nature or affirming attribute. All you get is a lot of putrid scenery, and punkettes and East Village wannabes bouncing about the stage thinking that maybe doing Cats wouldn't have been such a bad idea after all.
Everyone involved in this travesty should be forced to do penance until, well......maybe the Second Coming of Christ.
