Poffy
Iscariot
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Nails
It.
by
Jon Dunmore © 28 Dec 2005.
A
rockgasmic Judas-eye view of the last days of Christ.
Directed
by Norman Jewison (FIDDLER ON THE ROOF) and powered by the mountain-leveling
throats of Ted Neeley (Jesus) and Carl Anderson (Judas), JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR
is as reverent as it is blasphemous, as bombastic as it is humble, as god as it
is zilla.
Written by the inimitable team of Andrew Lloyd-Webber (music) and Tim Rice (lyrics) and staged
as a Grand Play in which all the actors arrive on a tour bus at a desert-swept
Israel location, the film opens with an overture that heralds the Players
(a disheveled coterie of Haight-Ashbury, flower-power dissidents who were most
certainly on The Pot and engaging in The Sex), who parcel out props and pseudo
period costumes, intriguingly modern, lending the production a sense of insurrect
bravado from the get-go.
As
the music builds, on the roof of the bus is raised - The Cross. And the soundtrack
launches The Riff - a D-minor cataclysm of chest-beating rock solidarity. With
this Riff, Andrew Lloyd-Webber found his One Thing. If he never produced anything
more in his life, this Riff would remain his legacy to Humanity. If the Old Testament
God of Revenge had a riff - this would be it.
As
the 60s groove spasms the Players into decidedly more sexual gyrations, the man
who would play Jesus is singled out and bedecked in white - as the Superstar Theme
blazes forth like the scintillation of suns. Then all falls silent...
…Judas,
a lone figure on a mountaintop, opens The Play singing Heaven On Their Minds,
Anderson oozing such raw gusto and riveting intensity that it almost becomes JUDAS ISCARIOT SUPERSTAR right there.
The
film's hook is set: this will be Judas' story. Thus also is the film's controversy
set - for not only does SUPERSTAR grant way too much credence to someone
whom Good Christians regard as one of the killers of Christ, it also acts as apologist
for Pontius Pilate (another vaunted Christ-killer, who condemns Jesus only very
reluctantly - his "hand-washing" scene a startler); portrays Jesus not
only as a screaming rockstar, but as almost too human to command worship (with
his chronic doubts and no depiction of miracles); and allows Mary Magdalene (Hawaiian-born
Yvonne Elliman) to blatantly consider loving Jesus in the - shall we say - "biblical"
sense. Another bone of contention was the movie wrapping with Jesus left for dead
on the cross, bookended by the Players boarding the tour bus (sans their
crucified pal) and driving into the sunset - unlike all other Jesus movies (KING OF KINGS, THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD) which glorified their zombie epilogs.
(Well, what else would you call a person raised from the dead?)
Truly
a product of its time, when the hippie contingent had reached a zenith in cultural
impact (the fashions and attitudes were then "modern" - all that long
hair and bellbottomry was real), thereby making it economically viable
to produce a musical of this ilk, SUPERSTAR began as a rock concept album
in 1970, with none other than Deep Purple's banshee vocalist Ian Gillan as Jesus
and Murray Head as Judas. As heretic as it may be, Neeley and Anderson actually
outshine Gillan and Head, probably because having to also "perform"
the Play lent wings to their production, reportedly singing at full strength onscreen
to retain the legitimacy of their neck-popping passion, for all the world looking
like they are being recorded as they vocalize, the synch being that good, even
taking into account they rarely sing "on the beat."
The
two mainstays are estimably supported by Elliman (whose I Don't Know How To
Love Him was a chart-topper), Barry Dennen (as a perfectly petulant Pontius
Pilate), Larry Marshall (as Simon), Bob Bingham and Larry Yaghjian (as the imposing
basso priest, Caiaphas, and the heel-yapping tenor, Annas, respectively), and
a ragtime, flower-child performance by Josh Mostel (Zero's son) as Herod.
Except
for occasional one-liners, Jesus's apostles are no more than wisps of raggedy,
big-haired dayplayers - it is enough they keep their lip-synch in check. With
grand vistas of Israel as backdrop, Jewison populates his film with hot 60's wenches
and guys who look like rock musicians and 70's pornstars. Speaking of which…
for years I suspected that apostle Peter (billed as Philip Toubus) was Paul Thomas,
the porn actor, on resemblance alone - sure enough, after SUPERSTAR, seems Toubus ditched his thespian calling, forged a new identity and turned to
the Way Of The Panty, never looking back - lest he turn to salt…
The
remarkable gelling of Tim Rice's insightful lyrics with Andrew Lloyd-Webber's
rock score (reminiscent of every late 60's group, from Purple to Uriah Heep and
Zeppelin, with orchestral backing to jog it into "stage musical" territory)
is the genius behind this morbid tale of a dead ex-Jew our grandparents prayed
to.
Ted
Neeley's Gethsemane still raises the neck hairs, and by the 5/8 climactic
orchestral interlude, I am almost praising a god I long ago realized was a figment
- for the sheer ground-shuddering talent of those who brought this deified figure's
political odyssey to musical fruition.
From
hearing it at every school play, to all your older friends owning the soundtrack,
the final bountiful Superstar theme, all 70's glam and 60's groove, has become
so ingrained in our culture that it cannot but conjure memories of a more carefree
time. With Anderson's dambusting vocals burning down one side and his haughty
sirens in angelic-white bikini-leotards slinking vocal support, the movie's title
track is a bombastic fanfare of youth and joy and searing sexuality, yet daring
those pertinent questions that every Christian should - but is encouraged not
to - ask: Who are you? What have you sacrificed? Did you mean to die like that?
What makes you better than Buddha, Mohammed, other religions? Every time I look
at you I don't understand why you let the things you did get so out of hand…
Leaning
on the universal language of music, rather than religiosity, for its thrust, JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR continues embedding itself into the culture with each passing
year; each passing decade furthering its status as awe-inspiring "classic,"
defiantly standing as THE "Jesus film" that will never lose its potency.
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