MJesus Christ's superstar like his namesake comes with a famous story. There were at least four Broadway productions and many reveals, tours and adjustments by Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber's biblical rock musical from 1971. It was only last month that Great Britain saw a revival with recognition. In Los Angeles' version, Not without “counter reaction”Cynthia Erivo is the Holy Messiah. Jesus, dressed in white cloth and cool white boots, sees the betrayal of Judas (played by a magnetic Adam Lambert).
In the first half of the show, how the apostles of Jesus ask for his plans and ask him to heal them, Erivos Jesus is reserved and she does not quite make the role of her own. But immediately in the second act, after Jesus was recognized that a disciple reveals him and he asks him against God who is waiting, Erivo has the despair in Gethsemane and a delicate point of contact that feels human, but extended, helpless and determined. There is no doubt that they are in the presence of a championship of art form, of unpopular talent, while Erivo sinks to his knees and falls back to God's will – tears fill their eyes, the music simple and their crystalline voice into the night. The outpour does not feel quite deserved at first, but moving and breathtaking after real abilities and discipline to spoil the audience into a tiny standing ovation.
Judas, a juicy role that leads from rebellion to justice to grief, is a punk joy. Lambert is perfectly occupied and uses a desperation that is consistently accessible: it divides the difference between someone you would hit in a bar that has regretted and someone who was born at the gates of hell. In damn for all times / blood money, how Judas struggles with whether he reveals Jesus and tells Pharisees and priests where he is so that they can catch him, Lambert is a fluctuating flag, a lild of evil. After Jesus has been taken and Judas recognizes the pain he has worked, Lambert in Judas' death offers a window in a grief that we have all previously reached, a glimmer of hope that they are not as bad as what they have just done.
Hamilton's Phillipa Soo, which Mary Magdalene plays, brings a butter -like voice and is a clever match to Erivos and governor of Juda Pontius Pilatus (Raúl Esparza), a command present. But maybe because of these heavyweights, other moments are more unforgettable: the choreography (especially the apostles) feels relatively simple and fades into the background, and the fanfare from King Herod (played by a load-minute-cheeky Stasm, which is filled out for Josh Gad, has Josh Gad, who has covid), has a thick moment, but it has stammed, but it has a big moment that it has a big moment A big moment is, but it's a but too much brilliant.
The SET design is largely to be expected, especially a large screen that hovers in the back. Thereupon are graphics that want to be a camp, but lazy lands are more literally warehouse with a mountain chain of Rei-Type graphics, sometimes Vaporwave-like art that you would find in a Miami DJ set.
But the holiness of the Hollywood Bowl event is undeniable: as Jesus' successor fits and asks or when the orchestra with a solo -noble, a feeling of devastation seeps off, the sky above the amphitheater outdoors, a deep, serving Hau earth the stage. Despite the unevenness of the conviction of Jesus and some rushed ensemble songs, this reproduction captures the tragedy of devotion and contradictions of betrayal. “I don't know how to love him,” they sing Mary and Judas in separate scenes – and yet they know that they are doing it.