Ah, the exuberance of youth! Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice initially released Jesus Christ Superstar as a rock-opera concept album, and the score has a maniacal energy and restless range; you can almost hear the composer and lyricist reaching for their voice. When the show premiered on Broadway in 1971 it received mixed reviews, and the lingering suspicion emerged that this is a musical to be heard and not seen. Then came Timothy Sheader’s gold-rimmed rock concert at Regent’s Park Open Air theatre in 2016 and the critics were silenced. But something about this Barbican transfer feels both hemmed in and overpowering, as if a big beast of an outdoor show has been trapped indoors.
Tom Scutt’s sculptural scaffolding set has a balcony for the band, a giant fallen crucifix in the centre and trees poking out at the back. It is a reminder of the sheer scale this production once revelled in, which simply cannot be matched indoors. When the band plays, we’re hit with a wall of sound. It’s exhilarating at points but problematic. While the story of Jesus’s final days isn’t complicated, it is very hard to make out when the lyrics are this compromised.
The relationship between Judas (Ricardo Afonso) and Jesus (Robert Tripolino) never quite gels and both singers push their performances too hard. Their lung capacity is admirable, but where is the tenderness? Matt Cardle, of X Factor fame, delivers Pilate’s dream song with aching regret. Mary Magdalene’s big number, I Don’t Know How to Love Him, can sound sappy but Sallay Garnett’s mellow soulfulness writes the score anew.
In a bold and shiny show, Herod’s oceanic sweep of a gold cloak speaks of the awful excess of those in power and Drew McOnie’s canny choreography captures the frightening volatility of the mob. The chorus clamber for Jesus in one move and retreat the next. After he’s been crucified, they lean towards the fallen crucifix, reaching out for a leader they have vanquished.
At the Barbican, London, until 24 August.
