Seeing Jesus as a Superstar

In these times of great uncertainty, globalized culture online is articulating a new appreciation for the work of (along with otherwise-looked-down-upon essential workers) artists. Memes, as the new cultural language of the online masses, exhort us to remember who we relied on for our survival and sanity when this is all over. Artists around the world have been releasing their cultural products for use for free, if only for a limited time. A leader in this exercise has been Andrew Lloyd Webber with his weekly series of free productions put online for audiences under lockdown for a limited time.

The new Jesus Christ Superstar, Webber’s supremely popular rock opera from the 1970s, is an updated contemporized anti capitalist reimagining of the classic tale, that gives us, literally, villains in suits. One might almost imagine Webber ironically villainizing himself.

The 2012 adaptation is done remarkably well. Herod's song, the first judgement of Jesus Christ (played by Ben Forster), becomes a game show, satirising the performative nature of media embodied in reality TV. The stark Nordic architecture of Pontius Pilate's home represents the isolated and disconnected billionaires of contemporary society. His descent from smug condescension while being lavishly waited upon, to frothing at the mouth at and with the plebeians is a remarkable use of minimal screen time.

A few discordant notes were struck by the representation of the Temple on the Mount, from which Jesus addresses his followers in anguish at the misinterpretation of his teachings, a modern day nightclub. The representation of dancing, alcohol and sex as great sins had a whiff of puritanism about it that didn't sit well with this vocal feminist. Neither did Mary Magdalene's (played by Mel C) conversion being represented by a wiping off of dark lipstick and eye make up. Just... Why?

But, other themes that we think of as contemporary, the show reminds us have existed for decades (since the 1970s when the musical was written) or centuries (since the events of the musical take place). These include crucifixion by media, the ease of hero worship and how soon a mob can turn on its heroes. It is also a striking testament to the power of free speech and the importance of art in standing up to, for example, charges of blasphemy.

JCSS was known from its first avatar to follow in the tradition on providing a different perspective to the character of Judas, just as Milton's Paradise Lost does with Satan or Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea does with Bertha Mason from Jane Eyre, or Chitra Banerjee's Forest of Enchantments does with Sita. This is achieved by giving him a voice, allowing us to hear his internal monologue and empathise with him. (Hence the argument for representation of diversity in media, aka hearing from the madwoman in the attic.) And Tim Minchin, as Judas Iscariot, makes us feel every ounce of deep love and admiration, growing wariness and tortured indecision, the resentment that climaxes in betrayal, the horror of recognising that one's actions have led to completely unintended and undesirable consequences, and the eventual despair of having caused harm, topped off with the knowledge that one will be misremembered and maligned by history forever more.

Theatre, in its very theatricality, prevents us from falling into the illusion that it is real. And it is in that way an even truer representation of the truth, which is that all knowledge or writing is and can only be a representation of truth. Edward Said's reflections on Orientalism come to mind. Knowledge creation will never capture the fullness of reality, and will always carry the perspective and biases of the creator, her context, her culture, her values.

In that way, in a world where fake news crackles through WhatsApp networks and the difference between truth and fiction seems slipperier than ever, the show makes itself far more relevant than even it realises. The art transcends the artist.