Jesus Christ Superstar – London Palladium and touring
Rating: Four out of five stars
Jesus Christ Superstar is surely one of the most accomplished pieces of musical kitsch ever to have been written.
So casting former TikTok sensation and 2022 Eurovision runner–up Sam Ryder in the title role may have seemed a stroke of genius.
But although he certainly has his rock–god moments in a bashfully uneven performance, it’s the score itself that continues to rule in this gushing revival of the heavy–metal gospel according to Saints Andrew and Tim (Lloyd Webber and Rice).
Anyone with any recollection of the decade of flares and 6in lapels will find the memories flooding back. Ah, how we used to travesty Rice’s lyrics in the school playground!
Even so, Lloyd Webber’s music, first sung by Deep Purple’s Ian Gillan on the 1970 album, is also unmistakably under the influence of radical prog rock.
Delivered here at often ear–splitting volume, it veers freely from its doomy opening chords, through funky jazz syncopations, explosions of drumming, and wailing wah–wah guitar, pauses for breath in folksier ballads before plunging into a Baptist frenzy.
Casting former TikTok sensation and 2022 Eurovision runner–up Sam Ryder in the title role may have seemed a stroke of genius. Sam Ryder and Desmonda Cathabel are pictured
Even if you know the story of Jesus’s Passion inside out, the characters’ motivations are often equally muddy. Pictured: Jesse Tyler Ferguson, who stars as King Herod
The problem with the music is that it’s more like a procession of inventive songs than a story with dramatic cut and thrust.
It’s as if the characters simply take turns – and Ryder’s gentle Jesus, who is at first a little meek and mild, has to wait patiently for his turn.
His falsetto vibrato has a few outings, but it’s not until he gets to his dark night of the soul in Gethsemane (after the interval) that he gives his full Whitesnake. It’s the crucial storytelling mid–range that I missed, his delivery feathery and sometimes blurred.
Even if you know the story of Jesus’s Passion inside out, the characters’ motivations are often equally muddy in the pageantry of Timothy Sheader’s ceremonial production.
Pay close attention and you will just about pick up that Tyrone Huntley as Jesus’s betrayer, Judas, is a more materialist political agitator.
Reprising the role from Sheader’s original 2016 Olivier Award–winning performance at Regent’s Park, Huntley is a forceful but thoughtful rock singer who pulls out all the stops to give us a full Gospel meltdown towards the end.
The really stand–out performance, however, comes from Desmonda Cathabel as Mary Magdalene – the suspected adulteress and prostitute who loves Jesus.
Blessed with a gorgeous, Sandy Denny–ish voice of emotional tenderness and luminous clarity, her torch song I Don’t Know How To Love Him would top the charts if released as a single today. (Yvonne Elliman’s version peaked at No 47 back in 1972).
Tom Scutt’s design creates a rock–gig vibe with a grungy scaffolding rig alongside batteries of lights baking washed–out terracotta togas in a parched orange glow
Pay close attention and you will just about pick up that Tyrone Huntley (pictured) as Jesus’s betrayer, Judas, is a more materialist political agitator
And for vocal contrast as Caiaphas, the High Priest eager to frame Jesus, Bob Harms has an amazing, sepulchral bass, plumbing the basement of his lungs.
Nor should we overlook the comic cameo from Modern Family’s Jesse Tyler Ferguson as the wicked King Herod who comes to gloat indecently over Jesus’s last agonies.
The part will be played by Richard Armitage, Boy George, Layton Williams and Julian Clary in weeks to come, but Ferguson shows he can just about hold a note in the mocking cabaret number, which includes the amusingly anachronistic sneer: ‘Prove to me you’re no fool, walk across my swimming pool.’
Tom Scutt’s design creates a rock–gig vibe with a grungy scaffolding rig alongside batteries of lights baking washed–out terracotta togas in a parched orange glow.
Also on stage, in ringside pens bearing witness to Drew McOnie’s hippyish choreography, is a small crowd of spectators who secured £25 tickets when released back in May.
More will be released for later dates, but here in the Palladium that’s a considerable saving on the staggering and barely conscionable top price of £395.
Render unto Lloyd Webber what is Lloyd Webber’s, as Jesus himself might have said.
