Bless This Mess: Jesus Christ Superstar (2000)
THE SET-UP
CW: some discussion of suicide
So, I love musical theatre.
If you didn’t know this about me, well, now you do. I had a recent reflection that my love for musical theatre might be partially related to my autism: don’t have to guess about character motivations when they sing about them! Themes literally come with musical cues! It’s great!
Anyway, like any self-respecting theatre fan, I have a complicated relationship with Andrew Lloyd Webber. Listen, I’m basic, I can enjoy me some Phantom or Cats or Joseph. But my one true ALW-penned love is and probably will always be Jesus Christ Superstar. I think it’s awesome, so much that I wrote a paper on it for a religious studies class I took in my undergrad. It chronicles essentially the last week of Jesus’ life, right up until his death on Good Friday.
And specifically, today, we’re going to dive into the 2000 filmed version of it, because it was the first version I saw when I was about 13 or 14, and therefore it has a special place in my heart. Is it the best version? No. (For my money, see if you can find a bootleg “slime tutorial” of the production that went to Broadway in 2012, it’s the best by a huge margin and I will not be taking feedback). But I do come back to this version again and again, so let’s dive in.
How do you like your Jesuses? (Jesusii?)
THE MESS
So first of all, this film is set in the modern day (more or less). I unironically think this is great, even as it does absolutely age it at times. Jesus spends the first act wearing beige cargo pants and a white tank (before he swaps to robes), the apostles mostly look like punks, and the Roman guards are wearing this cool combo of armour and riot gear. They look like cops, essentially.
On a related note: whoever did the set design clearly decided that subtlety was for cowards. The walls are covered in spray paint reading “Revolution” and “Abattons le facisme”. Just, y’know, in case you hadn’t figured out that the bad guys dressing like cops was meant to be symbolic.
If you’re not familiar with JCS (and I’m going to assume that you’re not), the play opens with Judas Iscariot laying out his criticisms of Jesus (“you’ve begun to matter more than the things you say”) and begging him to calm TF down before they all get destroyed by Rome (“Don’t you see we must keep in our place/We are occupied, have you forgotten how put down we are?”). Here we learn three important things about Judas: 1) he cares deeply about Jesus, 2) he cares deeply about the apostles and the people at large, and 3) he is kind of a coward.
Right here, we get one of the big themes/theses of this play: “strip[ping] away the myth from the man.” One of the things I love most about this show is how it gives an extremely human version of Jesus, but we’ll get into that as we go.
Anyway, Jesus doesn’t have a chance to respond to these critiques before the apostles interrupt them, demanding to know “what’s the buzz?” (another great phrase I should work into my vocabulary, tbh). Jesus quickly gets frustrated with them; his first line in the whole damn show is “why should you want to know?” Mary Magdalene appears and tries to calm him down with some cold water.
This works well enough until Judas interrupts to call Mary a slut (as you do) and criticize her for wasting resources. Obviously this is all more or less canon, but there’s something about watching it play out with real people (and sung, no less), that makes it all kind of hilariously melodramatic. Jesus defends Mary, and he and Judas have it out, very loudly and in front of all the other apostles, before finally Mary leads Jesus away to rest.
Something that changes between adaptations is how these lines are performed and meant to be read. In this particular film, there is clearly no love lost between Judas and Mary; he actually shoves her to the ground while slut-shaming her. It’s totally unprovoked and I cannot read the staging of this as anything other than jealousy, which we’ll come back to, because oh my god.
Okay, so, let’s pause here to talk about the actor playing Judas, a man named Jérôme Pradon. I am obsessed with his performance. I don’t honestly know how to explain why; he’s not a great singer, his voice is a little (okay a lot) pitchy, but he is selling the absolute shit out of every second he is on screen. One of the most validating experiences of my adult life was inviting a fellow non-binary lesbian over to watch this film and having them say, unprompted, about 20 minutes in, “I’m obsessed with him.”
Anyway, we cut from the argument to what I can only describe as an evil boardroom, in which the pharisees are discussing the Jesus problem. There’s this fun thing the casting usually does here, where the main two, Caiaphas and Annas, are total opposites musically. Caiaphas’ role is written for a deep bass, while Annas is something I believe is called a counter-tenor, which is the high range for men. It just creates a really nice tonal arrangement. Anyway, they decide collectively that Jesus needs to die.
This is not related to anything, but I met the man who plays Caiaphas here, Frederick B Owens, once. He was extremely nice and a little confused by my fervent love of this film.
Next we get to Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem. Again, subtlety is for cowards, but this one’s written into the script: the crowds are so excited by Jesus that their demands go from “won’t you smile for me” to “won’t you die for me” (with a little twist of the melody, even). Jesus looks horrified, Judas gives him a glance like “I fuckin told you you piece of shit.”
The cops I mean Roman guards attack, the crowd manages to force them back, and then they look to Jesus to lead them. Specifically, Simon Zealotes (played by a man named Tony Vincent, who’s sporting the most hilarious bleached liberty spikes I’ve ever seen) tries to tell Jesus that he should start an uprising. This is portrayed more as a power trip (“you’ll get the power and the glory”) than as an anti-oppression movement, and Jesus is horrified, and scolds them all, at which point people begin to trickle away.
There’s a little side point here where we see Pontius Pilate (who’s totally ripped) in bed, having just awoken from a dream about sentencing an innocent man.
Next up: Jesus’ arrival at the temple. Again, the set design and direction go hard in a way that’s almost cartoonish. Sure, people are like, gambling and selling drugs and dancing in sexy clothes (as you do), but they also appear to be selling atomic bombs?? Sure, okay, I think this is maybe meant to be symbolic. Anyway, Jesus screams at them, and breaks a television. Then, he bemoans that his time is almost done. We keep seeing flashes of this, that he seems to know what’s coming, and that he seems sad and exhausted by it.
Outside the temple, Jesus is approached by a sick person, usually referred to and/or portrayed as a person with leprosy. This is actually one of my favourite scenes in the play. The music starts out really slow, with one person, then another, then another, approaching him, asking him to help them (“Will you touch, will you mend me, Christ?”). As more and more people appear, the music picks up, becomes frantic, overpowering, as Jesus is overwhelmed by the amount of people asking, demanding, to be helped. Finally, he cries out, “Heal yourselves!” I just think this is a great moment of using music to convey story, and a humanizing moment for Jesus. It’s unkind, of course, but we can see the pressure he is under.
Anyway, the crowd scampers, and Mary Magdalene appears, calming him down. She gets him to sleep (if we take things literally, which we probably shouldn’t do with a play, in the middle of the street). Then she launches into her big ballad, “I Don’t Know How To Love Him.” It’s a nice song, it provides a break from the intensity of the previous scene, and it gives Mary a chance to talk about herself. Essentially, she doesn’t trust men, but she loves Jesus, and she’s scared of that.
Judas appears, and has no lines, but with body language he clearly communicates his disapproval of Mary’s feelings. This is an interesting part because productions can kind of do whatever they’d like during this musical interlude, and usually it seems like they have Judas witness some part of this interaction, and have it be the last straw leading him to betrayal. Here, he mocks Mary again, and then is clearly rejected by Jesus as a result. The camera lingers, a little hilariously, on his sad face.
So then, naturally, Judas goes to the pharisees to sell Jesus out. This piece is mostly full of justifications: he’s doing this to save everyone, and also, Jesus wouldn’t mind! He keeps saying, increasingly desperately, “just don’t say I’m/damned for all time.” I’ve got bad news for you, buddy. Anyway, he tries to refuse the payment, but Caiaphas convinces him he can give it to charity or something. I really like how the music cuts out, and Judas slowly, reluctantly, reaches up to take the silver, upon which point we get some DRAMATIC STRINGS, and tells them where to find Jesus.
Intermission! Er, it would be, but this is a film. Carry on.
Now it’s Last Supper time, but first the apostles sing a nice little tune about how much they love being apostles. Jesus almost immediately kills the vibe by saying things like “for all you care/this bread could be my body.” I joke, but I do actually like the framing of this — he seems completely disillusioned by this whole Messiah thing, and though he clearly knows that he’s supposed to die soon, he doesn’t seem to know what comes next (“Look at your blank faces/my name will mean nothing ten minutes after I’m dead”).
Jesus calling out Peter is one of my favourite funny things in Real Bible, because it is just so completely unprompted, and this adaptation doesn’t fail to disappoint. Sometimes actors deliver this part with pity, and we’ll get to Glen Carter’s portrayal of Jesus later, but this Jesus is just straight up PISSED and I can respect that.
Judas speaks up next, fed up with Jesus’ vague insinuations of “one of you betrays me,” and they begin shout-singing back and forth. Another of my absolute favourite moments of this play, I think all the lines hit. Jesus says, “why don’t you go do it?” and, “you liar, you — Judas.” Judas hits back with, “you want me to do it/what if I just stayed here and ruined your ambition.”
The argument is intercut with the apostles’ song from earlier, which just completely takes on this vibe of “oh no, mom and dad are fighting at the dinner table again.” By the end of the argument, Judas sobs out the opening lines of the title song, “Every time I look at you I don’t understand/why you let the things you did get so out of hand.” He grabs for Jesus, but then pulls himself back together and leaves.
So now we have Jesus’ big number, aptly titled “Gethsemane.” It starts out with him questioning, “Will no one stay awake with me?/Peter, John, James” and then, quieter, “Will none of you wait with me? Peter…John…James….” I love this, I think it’s a great way to take the Bible scene and make it heartbreaking.
Anyway, we see Jesus really struggle with the knowledge that he’s about to die. Again, obviously this is present in Bible, but the song lets us stay with his doubts, lets him rage against God. And, I think it’s kind of interesting that we don’t see any response. The angel from Luke does not appear to him. Eventually, he accepts his fate, but the rage is still there; he says, “Just watch me die” and “I will drink your cup of poison/Nail me to your cross and break me” before finishing with, “Take me now, before I change my mind.” The implication that he’s still reluctant, that he’s accepted it but he’s not happy about it, I find to be incredibly compelling.
Judas shows up with the Roman guards to arrest Jesus. Here we have the kiss of betrayal and — okay. Listen. I cannot read the minds of people involved in this production, obviously. But I cannot imagine any alternative explanation to the direction and acting here than “Judas is in love with Jesus.” That’s been the implication up till now, I would argue, but then he goes in for the slowest, most lingering kiss I’ve ever seen in this show, missing the liplock by what looks like milimetres. I thought I was losing my entire mind when I saw this the first time.
Jesus asks, tearfully, “Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?” and then Judas hugs him. I really love this moment, too, because Jesus very slowly embraces him in return, and it feels like forgiveness.
They’re pulled away from each other, and Jesus is arrested. The apostles, particularly Peter, try to come to his defense, but he tells them to “stick to fishing from now on.” Then, Jesus is dragged through the streets, the crowds mocking him with questions like they’re paparazzi interviewing him. This is done to the same melody as the Temple/Beggars scene earlier. The pharisees look at him once, ask him if he’s the son of God, to which he responds, “You say that I am,” upon which point they send him to Pilate for trial.
Here is perhaps as good a time as any to mention the interesting bit of what Jesus is called throughout. Some of this I think is just down to what fits with the verse (Je-sus is obviously two syllables, Christ is one), but I also find it interesting to look at where one is used versus the other. For example, Judas usually says “Jesus,” and the pharisees ask, “What then to do about Jesus of Nazareth?” - both treating him like a person (albeit one who is a Problem and must be Dealt With, by the latter). In comparison, Simon Zealotes, the beggars, and the crowd at his arrest all call him “Christ.” These are all moments where Jesus is dehumanized or raised above personhood (which is essentially the same thing). Judas also switches in the Last Supper to calling him “Christ,” and continues that for the rest of the play.
Next up, we get Peter’s Denial. This is pretty straight-forward, but I like that Mary Magdalene and some of the other apostles witness this and call him out on it.
Jesus is brought before Pontius Pilate, who is somewhat interested in him, but then pretty quickly decides that he’s not Pilate’s problem. He literally “not my circus, not my monkeys” Jesus, and sends him off to King Herod, while we get a minor key rendition of the crowd’s number from earlier.
King Herod is played by the late, great, Rik Mayall, and honestly, I have no notes. He seems to be having a great time, and this number is kind of supposed to be our last comic relief before things go deeply downhill for everyone, it’s upbeat and fun. Again we see the dehumanization in full force (“So, you are the Christ”) as he demands Jesus perform miracles for him, which of course he does not. He tries to be threatening and fails, and ultimately sends Jesus back to Pilate.
Mary Magdalene and Peter then sing a duet called “Could We Start Again, Please?” where they basically talk about how sad they are for what’s going on with Jesus. I really like this number, I think their voices mix prettily, and here, it’s overlaid with shots of Jesus getting beaten by the Roman guards. The counterpoint is jarring and, I think, the point.
Importantly, Judas witnesses the abuse, and goes to the pharisees to protest this treatment. The pharisees essentially tell him to STFU, that the plan worked and everything is fine, actually. Caiaphas tells him “you’ll be remembered forever for this.” Judas is thrown out, where he crawls pitifully on the floor and begs Jesus to forgive him. Interestingly, here, he also calls out to Christ, not to Jesus. Again, I love Pradon’s performance here, the way his voice and his face convey the horrified realization of what he has done.
He then collapses into a reprise of Mary’s earlier song, “I Don’t Know How To Love Him.” I don’t have anything to add to that, I’m not sure how to read this other than as explicitly romantic. After pondering if Jesus loves him back, he suddenly comes to a realization:“my mind is in darkness now,” he says, a direct conflict with his first line in the play, “my mind is clearer now.” He rages at God while he prepares to hang himself, and directly calls out, “You have murdered me.” Which, I mean, yeah, if this was all God’s plan, that’s pretty shitty for Judas, and I really love that he just straight up calls this out.
So Judas kills himself, and the rope is then repurposed as holding Jesus, which is a great piece of set design/direction. He has been brought back to Pilate, who questions Caiaphas and Annas about this. They urge him to sentence Jesus to death (“we need him crucified, it’s all you have to do”).
Pilate is not thrilled about this, but he begins to interrogate Jesus, as well as the crowd, who are also baying for crucifixion. A minute or so into this, we hear the opening strains of his song from earlier, and he clearly is reminded of his foreshadowing dream. His demeanour changes to one of panic; he starts trying to defend Jesus, then orders him to be flogged to appease the crowd. The 39 lashes are counted out for us, with Pilate becoming obviously increasingly upset as he goes. I love how this is staged: members of the crowd run up with fake blood on on their hands, and smear him with it in tune with whip sound effects. Once more, subtlety is for cowards!!!
Finally, Pilate approaches Jesus, begging him to speak, to say something in his own defence, entreating him with his first name, too. Of course Jesus refuses, attempting to comfort him (“You have nothing in your hands…Everything is fixed, and you can’t change it”). There’s a fun bit of direction here too, wherein Jesus touches his face with a bloody hand, which of course stays as Pilate gives up and washes his hands of the whole thing.
Then we’re onto the final(ish) number! Jesus gets the crown of thorns, and a cross to carry, and then Judas shows up, now in bright red leather. I’m not sure if this is meant to symbolize that he’s in hell now? Or if it’s good, because prior to this he was in all black? Anyway, he sings the title song, basically questioning Jesus’ choices and identity. In my opinion it’s a kind of grim song, but it’s done with a ton of pizzazz.
I like how this is staged, too, though it’s honestly also a little baffling to me. The paparazzi are here, Judas seems to be mocking Jesus while the cameras are “on” (when he’s singing), but when it cuts to the backup singers doing the chorus, Judas’ demeanour shifts drastically, and he tries to talk to Jesus. I wish I was better at lipreading, but it seems like at one point, he’s saying “I’m sorry.” It’s unclear if this is all a hallucination on Jesus’ part, but it seems like Judas is unhappy about being roped into it all. Also, here, he calls out to “tell me, Jesus”; he’s come full circle (musically, at least).
Finally, Jesus is put up on the cross, and he more or less recites all the various death quotes from the Gospels before dying. I think it’s fascinating that there are no miracles performed here, and we don’t see the resurrection. Instead, we see him taken down by his followers, and wept over, with Mary and (presumably?) the ghost of Judas there as well (dressed in black again). It’s just this very somber, very human note, and I like it a lot.
Judas, about to give us all a speech on why Drugs Are Bad, Kids
THE ACTUAL BAD STUFF
Most notably: antisemitism. This is straight from the Bible and our friends Sir Andrew and Sir Tim did not do anything to mitigate it. So we’ve got our evil (Jewish) pharisees, who are directly blamed for Jesus’ death, in addition to the Jewish crowds, while blorbo Pontius Pilate gets pathos and regret, plus lines like, “You Jews produce Messiahs by the sackful.”
I’m a little uncomfortable with the attire worn by the majority of the cast in the Temple scene. A lot of it is clearly meant to evoke The Orient (TM), and I mean that in the crudest sense: many men are wearing turbans and keffiyehs, and many of the women are wearing head coverings as well (though not, from what I can tell, anything that is specifically Muslim). In a historical setting where everyone was wearing the same fashion, I would care less, but given that the rest of the fashion is very Western, this just feels a little gross.
The role of women; obviously Bible also doesn’t have a lot of agent-ful women, but again, we didn’t really improve much on that here (certainly not by 2025’s standards). Renee Castle does a great job playing Mary Magdalene, but I think the role itself is a little one-note, and unfortunately this particular adaptation does really double down on the whole “she’s a sex worker” thing rather than emphasizing the “she’s an important leader on par with Jesus and Judas” part.
Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: Glenn Carter as Jesus. I don’t think he does a bad job by any means, but he doesn’t quite have the range I want. He’s clearly a musical theatre guy, but this is a rock opera, and (in my opinion), the role is better served by someone who can also channel that. He’s very angry, right off the bat, which I find a little off-putting. He also doesn’t look at all like “Jesus.” Obviously the popular image we have of Jesus as a bearded white dude is wrong, so him being a beardless blonde man is no less inaccurate, but I don’t know that it complicates that image in an interesting way, really.
I also don’t love the guy who plays Pontius Pilate, Fred Johnson. He goes a little too big and hard, in my opinion, though he certainly looks the part they’re going for (like a burly cop or military dude). He also yell-sings quite a bit, and in particular, mangles his last line, so that it sounds like he calls Jesus, “an innocent papaya” (the real word is “puppet”).
Ultimately I think the message of this production (and this play, really) ends up feeling a little confused. All the inter- and intrapersonal stuff works for me, but I’m not sure what we’re meant to take from it in terms of political movements. The Romans are clearly oppressive, but I think we’re meant to empathize with Judas’ concern about pushing back, and be horrified by Simon Zealotes’ approach. The message kind of seems to be “idk man, just endure it I guess and maybe someday it’ll get better.” Jesus goes to his death and I guess we’re meant to take that as being in service of a broader goal, but as a non-Christian, I don’t really buy into it as anything more than deeply tragic.
Anyway, completely unrelated to the above: Free Palestine.
IN CONCLUSION
Oh Jesus Christ, I wrote like 4000 words about this ding dang musical.
Welp, honestly, I don’t know what else to say that I haven’t already gone through. I love this musical despite its flaws, I think this adaptation has some really cool things going for it, and I think that if you like musical theatre/this musical in particular, you might enjoy it. Or if you just like watching men be VERY SAD and a LITTLE GAY.
I give the 2000 adaptation of Jesus Christ Superstar 4.5 innocent papayas/5.