The Jesus Project: Jesus Christ Superstar (1973)
Norman Jewison's adaptation of the beloved musical is one of the most interesting and unorthodox.
With The Gospel According to St. Matthew, we looked at one of cinema’s most straightforward adaptations of the Christ story. With Jesus Christ Superstar, we come to one of the more unorthodox.
Where Pasolini’s film was sparse and no-frills, Jesus Christ Superstar is frantic and loud, fueled by music from Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice’s rock opera. Those wanting a clear look at who Jesus was and what he did will likely walk away confused — the Christ on display here is elusive, mysterious and confounding. Norman Jewison’s 1973 film* isn’t interested so much in who Jesus was as it is fascinated by what people thought of him and why his story still resonates.
Christianity’s been the world’s largest religion for so long that Jesus’ modern-day followers can easily forget how peculiar the gospel story is. It took place in an obscure, Jewish-occupied section of the Roman Empire. Its central figure was, from the outside, a common man who didn’t lead a violent revolution or aspire to political power. He moved from town to town, giving talks and apparently performing miracles. He had a band of followers around him, yes, but they all ended up abandoning, denying or betraying him just before he was executed at the age of 33. What attracted them to him, what did they expect of him and what was so special about him that his story is still celebrated 2,000 years later?
Looked at it through that angle, Jesus Christ Superstar is a fascinating take on the gospel story, even as it deviates from the biblical narrative and ventures into some theologically questionable waters. It’s told with energy and passion, powered by fantastic music and constantly finding new ways to breathe fresh life into the story.
Disco Jesus
In fact, it doesn’t even really take place in Christ’s lifetime. As the overture plays, Jewison opens with shots of ancient ruins in the Israeli desert. A bus pulls up and a caravan of actors emerge, quickly gathering all of their props, putting on makeup and getting into costume. The movie is full of anachronisms — not just the 1970s rock music. The dialogue is pure 70s, from the song “What’s the buzz?” to the cry of “Hey J.C., J.C. you’re alright by me” in “Hosanna.” The film is constantly filtering the Christ story through a modern lens — it’s not just interested in what happened, but in how the people surrounding Christ may have felt, and how we can relate to them today.
The music is fantastic, a fusion of 70s rock, disco, ballads and R&B. It enlivens a story that’s been told so many times that it’s in danger of feeling staid. It brings emotion to a tale whose tellers are often more focused on faithfulness to theological orthodoxy than on emotional impact. But if Christianity is less a religion and more a heart response to who Christ is, then it’s essential to remember that no matter what their view on Jesus was, the people who encountered him were impacted in one way or another. It’s hard to identify with their fears, frustrations, hopes and dreams through a straightforward retelling; Jesus Christ Superstar gets right to the hearts of the people whose decisions led one week to the Triumphal Entry and the next to a crucifixion at Golgotha.
The Pharisees, for instance, are scheming, obsessed with power and not letting Roman opposition ruin the system they’ve worked so hard to keep in place; Jesus’ death is a means to keep the status quo in their favor. Jesus’ followers are depicted as a mix of revolutionaries and hippies, some wanting just to enjoy being part of the circus that follows Jesus around and others wanting to ride into Jerusalem with swords blazing; when he refuses to conform to their image, those same people rally to crucify him. Even the majority of the apostles just want to relax in the garden, write their books and achieve the fame that comes from studying at the feet of a popular rabbi. Everyone has their own desire for what Christ should do for them and their own hopes for what he’ll be — a revolutionary, a scapegoat, a great rabbi. In one of the film’s goofiest but most amusing moments, King Herod, at Christ’s trial, simply wants to see a magician.
Who do you want him to be?
Like I said, it’s not a literal interpretation, but the music and the off-beat composition of the film give it a vitality that helps us better understand why Christ was so popular and why he was eventually put to death. While the gospels present Jesus as in control of his destiny and sovereign over even the guards who would put him to death, we sometimes forget that he walked in the midst of people with lofty expectations and selfish motives. If Pasolini’s film focused on the broken humans around Christ looking for someone to give them hope, Jesus Christ Superstar looks at people who either didn’t know what to make of Jesus or wanted to use him as a means to an end and lashed out when he wouldn’t fit into their plans.
Mary Magdalene (Yvonne Elliman) is probably the most sympathetic of Christ’s followers in this movie. As tradition — but not necessarily scripture — holds to, she is a former prostitute whose life was changed after encountering Jesus. We meet her rubbing Jesus’ face with oil and ointment, wiping his feet and face with her hair. The sensuality of the scene is a bit startling, as is the almost romantic fixation she has on Christ — but this account is in the Bible, and because we’ve heard the story so many times we often don’t realize what a scandal it probably was for her to not only pour expensive perfume on Christ’s feet but also to do something so tender and, yes, intimate. Mary seems mystified by Jesus, drawn to him with perhaps a touch of infatuation, but confused because the love he requests isn’t the same that other men have demanded of her. Her standout, “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” is an aching, poignant reminder of how much we’ve cheapened the concept of love and how much purer — and more demanding — Christ revealed it to be.
More fascinating is the role of Judas, played by Carl Anderson in the film’s best performance. Aside from Peter, most of the other disciples are largely ignored. But Judas is the first character we see onscreen, presented much differently than in the Gospel stories. As in The Last Temptation of Christ, Judas is portrayed as Christ’s closest friend. We meet him just as he’s decided to turn against Christ, afraid that his good ideas have evolved into something insane and dangerous.
We don’t learn much in the Bible about Judas Iscariot. We know that he was one of the 12 disciples, but not even the only one named Judas. He was in control of the money purse. And he was the one who betrayed Jesus with a kiss. He’s usually portrayed as scheming and money-grubbing, ready to sell out his savior for 30 silver coins at a moment’s notice. And it wasn’t until I first saw Anderson’s portrayal here that I began to wonder how wrong we have it.
The men Jesus called to follow him likely had good intentions at the start. Do we really know that Judas started following Christ because he wanted to sell him out? Was he always the “trouble disciple” on the outer fringes — the fact that he identified Christ with a kiss in Gethsemane speaks to the fact that he had a closeness with Christ. And while it’s generally accepted that John was Christ’s closest friend (he’s referred to as the Disciple whom Christ Loved in his gospel), who’s to say that Judas wasn’t close with him? Even if he wasn’t, and this is all artistic conjecture, it’s a fascinating way to get into the maligned disciple’s head and try to understand why someone who followed Jesus for so long would betray him.
Anderson is all regret, fear, resentment and anger. Judas is portrayed as Christ’s close friend and supporter, now fearful that all this talk of being God is going to jeopardize the mission he’s started and get everyone killed. This Judas is a tragic figure, one who cares deeply for Jesus but also wants to save his own skin (before he betrays Christ, he has a vision of tanks rolling in presumably to crush the insurrection he’s afraid Jesus is going to start). He signed on to follow a man who would give to the poor and help the sick, not one who was going to upset the status quo, claim to be God and challenge the religious rulers. When it comes time for Judas to collaborate with the Pharisees, he’s all excuses and justification, not even wanting to take the money offered to him because he believes he’s doing a right thing; but, of course, it drives him to suicide when he sees that he’s sentenced an innocent man to die.
Nearly everyone in this movie sees Jesus in a different light — a threat, a deluded leader, a potential revolutionary, a caring friend. The superstar of the title is a man whose presence affects everyone around them — he challenges leaders, moves sinners to repent, frustrates those who hope he’ll help them get ahead. And by not showing Christ performing any miracles or giving us a great deal of insight into his mind, the film focuses on the reaction people had to him. This is a movie not about people reacting to Christ specifically but to their idea of who he is and what they expect him to be. When he doesn’t meet with those expectations — indeed, seems more than willing to crush them — they’re either left confused or they lash out.
Ted Neeley brings much-needed nuance to his portrayal of Christ as a man who is both potentially divine and a human beset by exhaustion and insecurity. The biblical accounts of Christ’s life describe him as one who spoke with authority and was fully in control of his fate, but he’s also described as meek, unattractive and a man of sorrows. One minute, he’s reveling in the adulation of his followers, the next weary and tired. One moment he’s chasing salesmen and harlots out of the temple; in the next scene, he’s overwhelmed by the lepers who come to him for help. It would seem inconsistent if it wasn’t capturing all sides of Jesus, the man and the deity.
Neeley’s highlight, of course, is “Gethsemane,” when Jesus prays to the Father to let him avoid crucifixion and then, ultimately, decides to go to the cross. While one could quibble with the scene’s theology, the song is powerful and angry, capturing the intense anguish the Bible describes Christ feeling in the garden at that moment, which the Bible says caused his sweat to become like blood. And in that moment, Neeley captures the authority and control Christ had over his fate — the Bible repeatedly states that Christ was fully aware where his life was heading and that he was in control of the moment he would lay it down.
The crucifixion itself is fairly traditional; there’s no musical scene at that point (I guess that was saved for Life of Brian). But the film’s finale is intriguing and, I suspect, frustrating to many followers of Christ. After Christ dies, the acting troupe tears down the sets and gets back into the van. There’s a sense of resignation to them. And we’re left with the film’s final shot — the empty cross. There’s no resurrection; just a shot of a shepherd leading his sheep through the desert as a metaphor.
I can see why some might find it frustrating, but I think it’s actually the perfect ending for a film about people’s reactions to Christ. After all, if this is the story everyone has been telling for years, and if Jesus had such an impact on the people he encountered, than whether that cross was the end of the story — or if the shepherd does still lead his people — is of utmost importance. Is Christ’s story one of tragedy — a charismatic leader killed at a young age by his followers? Or is it one of triumph and hope? The film’s final song, “Superstar,” poses that question:
“Jesus Christ, who are you, what have you sacrificed? … Jesus Christ Superstar, do you think you’re what they say you are?”
By not giving us a resurrection — and, in fact, not really showing us any of Christ’s miracles — the question is left open-ended for the audience. Was his story tragic or was it triumphal? Why is it still told if it’s the story of a man deserted by his followers and executed by the state? And if there is something true to it, then isn’t it worth paying attention to? I don’t know if this was Jewison, Weber or Rice’s intention with the story — it most likely wasn’t — but it’s what I was left with at the end.
Despite a few spots where it’s dated and a confused portrayal of Jesus, I found “Jesus Christ Superstar” entertaining, engaging and fascinating. It works as a great musical, and I can see myself returning to it for fun every few years. But it’s also a reminder that Jesus wasn’t a man who inspired weak reactions. When people encountered him, they were changed. Sometimes they felt threatened and lashed out. Sometimes they felt convicted and changed their lives. But no one around him stayed unchanged. Everyone who encountered Christ had to come to a decision point of what they were going to do about him. And those of us who are his followers today realize that he’s not a man you can encounter and be left lukewarm on.
The impression that I got from this film is basically the same as yours: everybody has their ideas about Jesus, but nobody's really getting it right. That's true of all of us, in a way. I also want to highlight the Garden of Gethsemane scene (which we are commemorating tonight). Like you, I wish some of the lines were more orthodox, but the greatest and most powerful moment of the movie (in my opinion) is the paintings of the crucifixion that flash onto the screen. (How is this part done in the stage play?) This is the best use of iconography I have seen in cinema, second only to the ending of Andrei Rublev.
As for this movie's ending, I think that by not showing the resurrection, it's posing questions to the audience: Who do you think Jesus Christ is? What happened to Him? Thank you for this article. I really enjoyed reading it.