Much like its namesake, Jesus Christ Superstar comes with a storied history. There have been at least four Broadway productions and many revivals, tours and adaptations of Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1971 biblical rock musical. Just last month, the UK saw a revival met with acclaim. In Los Angeles’s version, not without “backlash”, Cynthia Erivo is the Holy Messiah. Jesus, clad in white cloth and cool white boots, faces betrayal at the hands of Judas (played by a magnetic Adam Lambert).
In the first half of the show, as the apostles ask Jesus about his plans, and as lepers ask him to heal them, Erivo’s Jesus is restrained and she doesn’t quite make the role fully her own: Jesus is composed even in uncertainty, steady even when overwhelmed. But immediately into the second act, after Jesus realizes a disciple will betray him and as he pleads with God against the death that awaits him, Erivo lets despair take over in Gethsemane, stoking a tender touchpoint that makes Jesus feel human but commanding, helpless and then resolute. There is no doubt that you’re in the presence of a mastery of art form, of unbridled talent as Erivo sinks to her knees and resigns to God’s will – tears filling her eyes, the music simple and her crystalline voice carrying into the night. The outpour at first doesn’t feel quite earned but, on true skill and discipline, becomes moving and stunning to witness, enthralling the audience into a minute-long standing ovation.
Judas, a juicier role that runs from rebellion to righteousness to sorrow, is a punk delight. Lambert is perfectly cast, harnessing a despair that’s mightily accessible throughout: he splits the difference between someone you’d meet at a bar who’s got some regrets and someone who was born at the gates of hell. In Damned for All Time / Blood Money, as Judas wrestles with whether or not to betray Jesus and tell Pharisees and priests where he is so that they can capture him, Lambert is a wavering flag, a lilt of evil. After Jesus is taken and Judas realizes the pain he’s wrought, Lambert offers in Judas’ Death a window into a sorrow we’ve all reached for before, a glimmer of hope that you’re not as bad as what you’ve just done.
Hamilton’s Phillipa Soo, playing Mary Magdalene, brings a buttery voice and is a smart match to Erivo’s, and governor of Judea Pontius Pilate (Raúl Esparza), a commanding presence. But perhaps because of these heavyweights, other moments are more forgettable: the choreography (especially the apostles’) feels relatively simple and fades into the background, and the fanfare of King Herod (played by a last-minute John Stamos filling in for Josh Gad, who has Covid) in Herod’s Song could have offered a thicker moment of fun and delight, but Stamos is too much bravado over jeer.
The set design for the most part leaves something to be desired, primarily a large screen hovering in the back; on it are graphics that aim to be camp but land more lazily – sometimes more literal camp with a mountain range of REI-type graphics, sometimes Vaporwave-like art you’d find at a Miami DJ set.
But the holiness of the Hollywood Bowl venue is undeniable: as Jesus’s followers fawn and plead or when the orchestra softens with a solo nigh, a sense of devastation seeps in, the sky above the outdoor amphitheater a deep, navy hue, God’s Earth the stage. Despite the unevenness of Jesus’s conviction and some rushed ensemble songs, this rendition captures the tragedy of devotion and the contradictions of betrayal. “I don’t know how to love him,” sing Mary and Judas, in separate scenes – and still, you know they do.
