“The key to [Ryder’s] success is that he plays JC with sincerity, not starriness,” the reviewer stated.
“First materialising amid whirling acolytes, he is still and aloof.
In Timothy Sheader’s immaculate production – first seen to Olivier-winning effect at Regent’s Park 10 years ago, and harnessing Drew McOnie’s pin-sharp choreography – this is a religious leader ensnared by his own cult; there’s something frightening, if hypnotic, about his volatile, restless followers.”
“For a moment, you worry that Ryder is too meek and mild a hero, even anodyne.
But daring us to be disappointed tallies with the show’s accusatory argument about the pressures of showbiz expectation.
And that achieves a blistering pay-off in the climactic title number, its infectious gospel energy offset by the visceral spectacle of a bloodied Christ being assaulted.”
“It’s as if we are implicated in the mob brutality and betrayal,” the reviewer concluded.
Visual Elements and Ensemble Choices
The visual elements and ensemble choices within the staging were likened to contemporary festival culture.
“Sheader’s production, with choreography by Drew McOnie that embraces sinewy undulation and ecstatic abandon, has the bleary, transportive mood of a festival,” stated a reviewer via Whatsonstage.
com.
“The ambivalently gendered ensemble, mostly in bejewelled makeup and crop tops, wouldn’t look out of place at Burning Man or Berghain.
David Thaxton’s Pilate has his laurels tattooed on his high-fade scalp and SPQR on his bicep.
The priests led by Bob Harms’s sepulchral Caiaphas move like a menacing, hieratic cross between Kraftwerk and Lene Lovitch.”
