Performances rescue dated 'Superstar'

THEATER REVIEW
Thursday, September 15, 2005

BY DAVID N. DUNKLE
Of The Patriot-News

A talented cast outperforms the material in Theatre Harrisburg's production of "Jesus Christ Superstar."

At age 35, "Superstar" is now a '70s counterculture snapshot redolent of the best and the worst of that era.

A stylistic mishmash, the musical also is theologically outdated. What seemed risky onstage in 1975 -- characterizing Jesus as a social rebel crushed by a political system obsessed with the status quo -- feels quaint today.

But "Superstar" does feature wonderful songs by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice and some powerful dramatic sequences.

Theatre Harrisburg's production, which continues through Sunday at Whitaker Center, demonstrates convincingly that despite its flaws, this musical can still be exuberant theater.

The singing burden falls mainly on three actors: Gordon Kaslusky as Jesus, Dennis W. Norton as Judas Iscariot and Allison A. Spayd as Mary Magdalene.

The trio more than rises to the occasion, despite occasionally pushing too hard on vocal flourishes.

In "Gethsemane," Kaslusky, in his Theatre Harrisburg debut, is spectacular as a doubt-filled messiah coming to terms with the knowledge that he is required to die. He also is the focus of "The Temple," a haunting sequence in which Jesus is besieged by the sick and maimed, begging to be healed by his touch.

Spayd is equally tear-inducing on the radio hit "I Don't Know How to Love Him" and pairs winningly with Russ Reed (as the apostle Peter) in the plaintive "Could We Start Again, Please?"

Norton, a powerful singer, mostly hits the right notes with Judas, who follows, doubts and ultimately betrays Jesus, then can't live with his own deeds. While Judas' tormented-spirit routine is a little overdone, Norton scores well with the stage-setting "Heaven on their Minds" and the savage "Damned for All Time/Blood Money."

The little things are done well here, a tribute to director Steven L. Flom's attention to detail. While some costuming choices are odd -- the guards, for example, seem to resemble Spanish conquistadors -- the templelike set, pinpoint lighting and fine musical accompaniment contribute to an entertaining night of theater.

The ensemble cast performs energetically, whether singing or dancing. Two supporting performances particularly stand out.

Gregg Mauroni truly is creepy as the evil high priest Caiaphas during "This Jesus Must Die," while Theatre Harrisburg artistic director Tom Hostetter lets it all hang out as King Herod in the campy "King Herod's Song."

Hostetter's sequence, while highly entertaining, is an example of the difficulties a young Lloyd Webber had in finding a consistent tone for "Superstar."

While most of the play burbles between Biblical costume drama and hippie soap box, the latter exemplified by apostle Simon's camouflage outfit, the Herod sequence comes off as Liberace meets Busby Berkely, with a little Marx Brothers thrown in:

Prove to me that you're no fool,
Walk across my swimming pool.
If you do that for me,
Then I'll let you go free.

The sequence, while no doubt intended as a change-up and a little comic relief, is nonetheless a theatrical conceit that clashes with the more reserved animus of the production as a whole.

Fortunately, the vigor of the final sequence -- the crucifixion -- restores that balance. The crowd that once cheered Jesus is now the mob reveling in his suffering, while Jewish and Roman authorities watch their nemesis die with smug satisfaction. Meanwhile, Jesus' followers can do nothing but watch and wait.

It's deeply moving and brought the cast a well-deserved standing ovation at last week's opening performance.

"Jesus Christ Superstar" is neither a religious polemic -- it does not really take a position on the divinity of Christ -- nor a metaphor for the social agenda of the anti-war generation.

By dodging theocratic and political battlegrounds, "Superstar" shines as a piercing look at destiny and celebrity.

As the title song implies, the question of whether Jesus believes in his own divinity is in some ways less important than how that issue affects those around him. Theatre Harrisburg's production grasps that important distinction.