DISTRACTIONS ABOUND IN LTN’S DISJOINTED

JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR

 

Theater Babe Says:  Go . . . and show your support for a community theatre’s willingness to tackle a challenging work of art.

Jesus Christ Superstar is a big show -- big themes, big music, big cast.  The Little Theatre of Norfolk’s current production is ambitious, but because the vision for this production is not presented as clearly as it might have been and because it appears there may have been difficulties in the turn out for auditions, despite the earnest efforts of the hard-working cast, instrumentalists and production team, the end result is not as successful as one might wish.

Jesus Christ Superstar is an anachronistic telling of the last few days of Christ’s ministry; key points in the plot track those in a traditional Passion play, but it is a rock-opera, complete with electric guitar riffs and 20^th century music and rhythms.  While the tale is typically told through the eyes of a true believer, Superstar’s protagonist is Judas, the disciple who betrayed Jesus, and the show emphasizes the political threat that Jesus Christ posed to the authorities – both to the local high priests, and to their Roman conquerors.

Overall, this production assumes that the audience is thoroughly familiar with the story – we are expected to know, for example, that Mary Magdalene is a reformed prostitute although she is presented here as simply a pretty woman with an affinity for black leather.  But it also pushes back against what we are presumed to know without explanation, most notably but not only when a guard gives Judas an oversized brown paper lunch bag holding a revolver.  Those of us conversant with the tale know that Judas hanged himself, so when this Judas uses the gun to commit suicide we are distracted, wondering why the instrumentality of his demise was changed and what was meant to be conveyed by having the guard provide the means to his end.  This production repeatedly raises other, similar questions regarding the directorial intent but does not answer them explicitly enough for at least the Theater Babe to understand the choices that were made.  As a result, the production feels disjointed and the constant intellectual curiosity that is piqued by those unusual decisions disrupts the emotional intensity that this momentous work should create.

Director David B. Springstead, Sr. chose to set this production in the present day to emphasize the commonality between the themes faced both now and during the time of Christ.  But the commitment to placing the action in the present is not absolute, and the choices that evoke the earlier era repeatedly distract us from the underlying story.  For example, during the Last Supper – depicted here as a picnic – the apostles pass around leather wine skins.  It may be just the company the Theater Babe keeps, but at least among the Babe’s associates it is more common to use plastic glasses at an outdoor event.  So while the skins used here are picturesque, they are anomalous to the time period portrayed and momentarily divert us from the action onstage.  Similarly, during “The Temple” when Christ is besieged by people wanting to be healed, the sick completely and incomprehensibly cover their faces and heads with white cloth.  It was only upon reviewing the program at intermission that the Babe realized that they were portraying lepers . . . in the Biblical sense, not in the 21^st century treatment of leprosy (now known as Hansen’s disease which is typically cured with antibiotics).  Those kinds of details are minor, but they detract from the credibility of the production and distract us when we should be riveted by a story so powerful it has survived for thousands of years.

Additionally, the translation of some of the characters and events into a modern setting are imperfect.  The purpose of portraying King Herod as Donald Trump eluded the Babe; she hopes that she missed the point, and that it was more than a choice made only to elicit a quick laugh or just to mock the monarchial aspirations of the president.  Starting the show with men in black suits (whom we only later realize are the high priests) crowning Trump was an unusual choice which squandered the opportunity to let the overture set the mood for the piece.  Instead of becoming enveloped in the distinctive electric guitar and bass licks – well-executed by Adam Cutchin, David Springstead, Jr. and James McCandlish – we relegate the music to the background as we stare at the stage, wondering why Trump is being parodied in a work about Jesus Christ.  The rambunctious crowd that subsequently gathers in an obvious spoof of the well-publicized Trump campaign rallies further leaves us searching for the nexus between the action we see and the story we know is about to be told, and the lack of connection is confusing and prevents us from vesting in either the retelling of the Passion, or in the political commentary that is meant to be conveyed.

Similarly, decisions regarding the characterization of Pilate and the Roman guard undermine the strength and influence intended by the roles.  The historical Pontius Pilate was the Roman prefect who commanded the geographical area in which Jesus preached.  While a prefect was not necessarily a military rank, it was always a position of considerable authority and in most stagings of Superstar, it is clear that Pilate controls the Roman guard.  In this production, the guard are costumed as riot police while Pilate is in a three-piece suit.  There is no visible connection between them, and to anyone unfamiliar with the show it is not at all clear that Pilate is the ultimate authority who directs the guard and who embodies the awesome might of Rome.  Instead, the guard seemingly enter and exit the stage randomly, and while their costumes depict a certain degree of totalitarianism, their body language and movements are less than menacing.  It would help if the actors portraying the guard would stalk through the crowd with more energy and deliberation, and if they would stand rigidly at attention, utilizing sharp, distinct movements when they arrest John and, later, Jesus, to emphasize that the guard are in charge, and they are capable of and willing to use force to subdue the rabble.  The effect of these combined choices is that we never see the imposing, overarching power of Rome – so the fear that the Roman forces may annihilate Christ’s followers which is voiced by Judas during “Heaven on Their Minds” has no context or credibility. 

The structure of the show depends upon the set-up provided by the lyrics of “Heaven on Their Minds.”  That opening vocal number reveals Judas not as a reviled traitor, but as a critical-thinking voice of reason who entreats Jesus to recognize the very real ramifications of creating unreasonable expectations in his followers (“You have set them all on fire/They think they’ve found the new Messiah/And they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong”) and of emboldening the crowd (“Listen, Jesus, do you care for your race?/Don’t you see we must keep in our place./We are occupied./Have you forgotten how put down we are?/I am frightened by the crowd/for we are getting much too loud/And they’ll crush us if we go too far.”).  Because most of us know the familiar story, we already know how it will end:  the crowd does indeed turn on Jesus, and the Roman authority is willing to execute him to crush the political upheaval he incited.  From the outset, the lyrics present Judas as a much more sympathetic and multi-dimensional character than the one usually discussed at Sunday school, and that controversial interpretation is what gives much of the show its tension.

In this production, Judas, portrayed by Travis Everett, is single-minded and less nuanced than the character created by the lyrics.  This Judas is unremittingly angry – at Jesus, at everyone around him, and at the situation in general.  While Mr. Everett’s performance is undeniably passionate, it does not capitalize on the character’s complexities.  Whatever confusion, concern or internal conflict that may be part of the Judas character are all presented here as abrasive hostility and we are deprived of the opportunity to understand or care about the gradations of his perspective.  No little part of the problem is the decision jointly made by the music director, Dr. Martha Springstead, and the actor to deliver Judas’ songs in a guttural growl vaguely reminiscent of the heavy metal band Judas Priest whose insignia is emblazoned on the t-shirt this Judas wears for most of the show.  That style all too frequently compromises the enunciation of the lyrics – a definite problem in a sung-through musical where there are no spoken lines to convey exposition – and the uniform delivery prevents us from viewing Judas as a multi-faceted individual.  During his single a cappella moment where he sings melodically, Mr. Everett displays a pleasing tone that the Babe wishes was more liberally exhibited throughout his performance.

As Jesus, Sean Hines’ physical appearance is strikingly similar to the depiction of Christ illustrated in countless paintings throughout the ages.  His interpretation focuses almost exclusively upon Christ’s humanity which perhaps makes the character more relatable than he is depicted in many versions, but creates a disconnect in numbers such as “The Temple” where the lyrics emphasize the character’s divinity; this Jesus is so convincingly human that it is jarring when he goes berserk in the temple, screaming at the vendors that “my house should be a house of prayer.”  Because this interpretation lacks either the ethereal otherworldliness or the self-assured determination to fulfill his destiny that are often displayed in the title role, here Christ’s confrontations with Pilate and Herod lack credibility, for surely a mere mortal would succumb to the temptation to whip off a little miracle and save his own skin.  Mr. Hines’ singing voice is nice and smooth, if perhaps less dynamic and powerful than one would expect in this demanding role, and is best displayed in Christ’s quiet, more introspective moments.  The Theater Babe was disappointed that one such moment following his outburst at the temple was so completely undermined by the almost incessant motion of what is obviously supposed to be frozen ensemble members.  Christ stands downstage center in a solo spot, while members of the ensemble kneel in the darkness slightly upstage.  Each holds a large white piece of cloth that each of them shake and fiddle with throughout Christ’s musical soliloquy, apparently trying to flatten them out so they are ready to be placed upon their heads in the next scene.  Christ does not command our attention, the fabric reflects the light, and the constant motion keeps our eyes dancing around the darkened stage, so we are deprived of the opportunity to emotionally connect with Jesus as he reveals his exhaustion and establishes the theme that is expanded in the role’s premier moment later in the show.  In part because we have not shared that emotional foundation with the character in the first act, the second act’s “Gethsemane” is not the showstopping moment that we wish it would be.

That number is also plagued by a problem that is systemic in this production:  the imbalance of the orchestra.  The Theater Babe applauds the decision to use musicians rather than recorded instrumentals and welcomes the additional energy that element brings to the performance.  But throughout the entire show, the brass section dominates not only the other instruments but the vocals, as well; all too often the brass create a discordant cacophony that competes with rather than complements the vocals.  That’s a glaring problem in a sung-through musical, because when the libretto is deafened by the accompaniment, plot points conveyed through the words are lost to the audience and scenes seem to lurch from one to the next because we do not hear the lyrics that link them together.  When the brass are more restrained, we are able to appreciate the efforts of talented drummer Ralph Copley.

Superstar’s best-known ballad, “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” suffers a similar fate.  As Mary Magdalene, Rebekah Rawhouser exhibits a lovely singing voice and a poised presence, but during her solo we are distracted by not only the overpowering brass section, but by the overt reactions of Judas who is upstage on a raised level.  Because our attention is diverted, aurally and visually, we do not focus upon nor do we connect emotionally with the female lead.  We do thoroughly enjoy Ms. Rawhouser’s beautiful “Could We Start Again Please?” in the second act, even as we wish that the male half of the duet (Peter, played by Steve Suskin) would be more lyrically sung.

 

Andrew Schwalm (Annas) demonstrates a strong, clear tenor voice as he scales the high notes of “This Jesus Must Die,” and “Blood Money” with apparently effortless ease.  Russell Teagle’s performance as Caiaphas makes the most of his rich, deep singing voice but would be improved by more careful articulation of his diction, particularly on the lower notes.

Vocally, the ensemble is at its best when singing together in unison, and they display a charming enthusiasm during “Hosanna.”  Some of the other choral numbers such as “Simon Zealotes” get off to a rocky start but come together several bars into the song; it may be that the ensemble has difficulty hearing the initial pitch when the brass dominate the introduction.  The choreography by Paul W. Springstead is appropriately tailored to the aptitude of these performers, and the Babe commends dance captain Edilen Obamos for ensuring that every cast member, even those with markedly minimal dance experience, knows the steps.

It is noticeable that in this production Jesus has only nine disciples, when in the Bible as well as in other productions there were twelve.  Although traditionally all twelve are played by men, here two of the nine are cast as women; it is unexplained why the other three disciples were not also played by female actors.  It appears that fewer men may have auditioned than were needed, and that had an obvious impact upon this production including some problematic double-casting.  At the beginning of the show, we see John the Baptist preparing the way of the Lord and baptizing the ensemble.  John is arrested and taken offstage by the guard, but reappears in the next scene and the remainder of the show dressed in the same costume worn during the baptisms.  That’s both curious and distracting because only a few minutes later, Caiaphas sings that “like John before him, this Jesus must die.”  For “Trial by Pilate,” a couple of the disciples return to the stage with nominal alterations to their costumes to depict that they are now representing members of the madding crowd, but a few of them do not change at all yet nonetheless proclaim “Crucify him! Crucify him!” with the rest of the chorus.  That might work if there was any suggestion that they had joined in the frenzy for fear they too might be persecuted, but here, there is no dramatic import to the shift.  It is as if we are just supposed to assume and accept that they are no longer portraying the character they were only seconds earlier, and that severely detracts from the credibility of the whole -- especially since immediately after the crucifixion, those same disciples/ensemble members are seen openly mourning Christ’s death.

The technical aspects of this production do little to help tell the tale.  The set design by Bill Armstrong is simple and devoid of any indicia of a specific time or place.  That emphasizes the idea that the story is relevant to all people in all places, but requires the audience to fill in the blanks about where the characters are supposed to be physically located at any given time – a task that is challenging when the lyrics are not always audible.  The blocking rarely uses the entire space, and too frequently the ensemble appears to be insufficiently directed regarding their individual placement; often the actors appear to just find a space to stand onstage without a sense of the role each member plays in creating a complete picture.  At other times, the ensemble enters and spends long, uninteresting moments engaged in contrived spoken ad libs while waiting for their musical cue and those instances cause the otherwise well-paced show to drag. 

The orchestra is upstage on a higher level behind a scrim which is too sheer to mute the lights on the music stands, and those lights repeatedly mitigate the mood attempting to be created by a single spotlight shining on an otherwise dark stage.  No lighting designer is credited in the program, and while a stronger lighting plot would have helped to provide clarity during the performance, the light used at the very end to suggest the unseen resurrection is quite effective.  The costumes, designed by Jacky Robinson, do not appear to be part of a comprehensive plan but, with few exceptions, strongly resemble outfits that each cast member may have assembled from his/her own closet.  Christ is in an all white flowing shirt and pants that accentuate his role as the innocent Lamb of God.  It appears that the authoritarian figures are mostly dressed in business suits to contrast with the disciples and the crowd who are in more casual attire – but Caiaphas is inexplicably clad in a tuxedo and the item which may have been a chain of office hanging around his neck did not read well from the stage, distracting us and causing us to wonder what it represented.  The ensemble seems to be for the most part dressed in lightweight summer clothes, but Mary Magdalene wears a substantial leather jacket, distinguishing her but also distracting us as we wonder why she needs a coat while others are comfortable wearing shorts.

Bottom line?  LTN’s Jesus Christ Superstar presents many ideas that are neither fully explained nor well-connected to the material, and their implementation often distracts us from the essence of what has been called the greatest story ever told.  But if this production does not exactly succeed in achieving its worthy ambitions, it is always worthwhile to support community theatre.



Performances run through October 1st, Friday - Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 2:30 p.m.

at the Little Theatre of Norfolk

801 Claremont Avenue, Norfolk, Virginia 23507.

Tickets are $18 for adults, with discounts for youth, students, seniors and military,

and can be obtained online at: http://www.ltnonline.com or

by calling the box office at (757) 627-8551.

 

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