For those of you unfamiliar with the play, this is the story of Christ's last six days told from the perspective of Judas. Its original release raised a lot of hackles among the Christian Right. It assumes that Christ's relationship with Mary Magdelene was more than passing. It portrays Christians as a neo-military movement with Christ as the token martyr. I always assumed the most serious infraction is that the play portrays Judas as a real human being. Christians often view Judas as a rather two dimensional, almost comic-book villain without delving deeply into the motivations behind his actions. This telling brings Judas to the front with Christ, while the rest of the ensemble keeps more to the background.

I remember several years ago turning on my local Public Broadcasting Station for my usual "This Old House" fix, only to discover that they were holding a Beg-A-Thon. They said this was going to become an annual event to subsidize budget cuts from the great and powerful Oz (pay no attention to the Republicans behind the curtain). During the next Beg-A-Thon - six months later - they said that further budget cuts required them to increase the frequency of their pathetic pleadings.

In the light of their situation the Powers that B.S. began watching Jerry Lewis and learned how to stage an effective Beg-A-Thon. They learned that Beg-A-Thon rhymes with "marathon," so they increased it from a weekend to a full week. They learned that you can repeat segments because people who were watching at 3pm aren't watching at 3am. Unfortunately their implementation assumes someone watching on Saturday isn't watching on Sunday. They also learned that you can repeat segments over the next two or three Beg-A-Thons and share segment repeats with other states (but that's another issue). They learned that you can sell a $19.95 video for $120 in the name of Public Broadcasting. They also learned that the learn-ed philosopher Barnum was correct in that you can "never lose money underestimating the stupidity of the general public." That piece of knowledge led them to increase the frequency of their Beg-A-Thons. The more often they held them, the more often the Lawrence Welk fans donated to PBS.

There is one other lesson learned by the reduction in Federal Support. To attract big donations you roll out your big guns between beg breaks. Jerry Lewis knew this instinctively, but it actually took PBS a few years to grok the concept. Anymore you can pretty much expect that anything unusually interesting you wish to watch on PBS will be interrupted by furniture polish breaks.

Imagine my surprise when I saw a promo for a Great Performances presentation of Jesus Christ Superstar right after a Beg-A-Thon. Somehow I thought it would be a "Making Of..." like G.P. sometimes does. Coming on the heels of a Beg-A-Thon I never imagined it would be a full-blown original production. Still I couldn't resist, so I set the VCR. Let me say this about that: In 1971 I was forbidden from listening to the Superstar soundtrack. I was only six years old, and my mother thought it sacrilegious. I was also forbidden to watch Dark Shadows. Neither instruction held. My best friend's older sister had the album and we listened to it all the time. I thought the Superstar soundtrack was cool. How could you forget the voice of Caiaphas speaking two octaves below any known scale? (I only exaggerate slightly.) Brian Keith was on the soundtrack. He was Buffy and Jody's dad. He wouldn't hurt me. Hell, there were a couple of hit songs on the radio from that soundtrack. How could it be evil? Surely disc jockeys wouldn't subvert me...

Suffice it to say that Superstar wore a place in my psyche. I've since found that many people held it in a similar place of honor. I knew from the outset that I had Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber to thank for this piece of my life. Many years later I began to hear those names again, and to understand what a talent they represent. I live in Armpi- uh, Arkansas, and Broadway is exactly as far away as Bangkok or Saturn. Still, with the same insidious persistence that I hear of new discoveries in the geography of Saturn's rings, I also hear of new productions by these incredible talents. (e.g. I first heard Michael Crawford a few weeks before he left Phantom.)

Some years after the soundtrack I saw the movie version of Superstar. I wasn't impressed. For some reason I just didn't connect. The soundtrack was the definitive version to me, even if I had to make up my own visuals.

So while I was excited about the possibility of seeing an actual production of Superstar on PBS, I was prepared to compare it to my definitive version. As the overture played the familiar melodies I found myself being sucked into the old familiar sensations. The images were both fresh and reminiscent of the original times. I watched for familiar names, but none were forthcoming. There wasn't a single recognizable name in the credits.

In a nutshell, this is a feast for anyone this side of Helen Keller. This is the play which launched the careers of two of the most influential names in Broadway's history. This play hit the American landscape with nearly the same power as Star Wars, and changed the way people thought of musicals. Twenty years prior, Oklahoma had set the standard for musicals. By the time Superstar came out, everyone thought the medium dead. Thank God no one told Webber.

The show opens with Judas warning Christ about the dangers of his growing popularity. Judas at a glance looks like a young Phil Collins, but you quickly realize this man can actually sing. The contemporary costumes (Christ in a tank top and Judas in a black leather jacket) make the characters accessible. Stage productions often don't translate to video. The players know their facial expressions are invisible to the audience, so they express themselves with body language and voice. This is not a stage production, even though the set would work extremely well on stage. These people are performing for the camera. The subtleties given by Judas and Mary Magdelene constitute the finishing touch on a thing of beauty.

Speaking of Mary, she gives the best rendition of Everything's Alright (Yes Everything's Fine) I've ever heard. There are quiet nuances to her voice and facial expressions which nail this song cold. The way she sings to Christ and Judas makes the scene extremely fluid and wonderful to watch.

This may well be the best rendition of Annas ever. His appearance and voice are...rancid is the only word that seems to fit. Caiaphas, good though he is, may be the weakest link in the production. His deep voice parts seem strained. Understandable, given how deep they are, and it's slight enough that I won't hold it against him. His appearance and stage presence are very good. I'd like to see Avery Brooks try his hand at this role.

Simon Zealotes gives a stunning performance. He only has one song to shine, but shine he does. You can't help but notice his attractive presence throughout the play. His costuming combines with his demeanor to portray him as an eager capo in the budding Christian army.

Pilate appears first in bed, recounting a dream of Christ's appearance before him. This appearance belies the strength of the actual scene at the end of the play.

The money-changers in the temple shows the level of sophistication used in filming the production, but it's easily missed because suddenly Christ finds his voice. Prior to this you don't understand just how powerful a singer he is. His voice here steals the show from the photographers.

Mary gives a beautiful rendition of I Don't Know How To Love Him. I never cared for that particular song. She puts a lot of emotion into it, but it's still a low point to me.

I doubt there's ever been a better Judas. This fellow does a stunning job of making you feel the turmoil he's going through. He makes you feel that he really has no choice in what he does. The chemistry between Judas, Caiaphas, and Annas is wonderful. Their voices - as disparate as they are - mesh together perfectly to bring an aesthetic to their scenes which you can't normally cast.

I do wonder if the costume designer from Dark City was affiliated with this production, but I'm not going to take the time to look it up right now.

Plays require the suspension of disbelief. Musicals are even more dependent on this. The hardest part of this production in which you must suspend disbelief is the Last Supper. The Apostles song has always struck me as being somewhat bucolic. The choreography and direction make the scene work. It's simply the weakest lyric and music of the piece, and yet again Christ and Judas give outstanding vocal performances. I guess it's fitting for the apostles. After all, they're fishermen. Listening to the soundtrack I never really understood the dynamics of this scene. This production pulls it off very well. It's here we learn what Christ and Judas are thinking, and see the depth of despair in which Judas finds himself. One of the great lines has Judas yelling at Christ, "What if I just stay here and ruin your ambitions?" when Christ tells him to go to Caiaphas and betray him. That had to bother the devout Christians when it came out. It's also here that Judas first utters the words that changed modern theatre, "Every time I look at you I don't understand why you let the things you do get so out of hand. You'd have managed better if you'd had a plan."

Gethsemane starts slow, but it gets going. The lyrics are wonderful, and he delivers them very very well. I wouldn't be too surprised to find that this guy could shatter glass with his voice. You might also notice that Christ's costuming has been changing and he now appears in a more traditional robe - stark contrast to Judas who again appears all in black. Peter gets his chance in the spotlight. He's been near the action through the entire play, but never stood out until he denies Christ. Another strong performance by someone I've never heard of. Pilate a la Benito Mussolini is wonderful. The early scene with Pilate scared by a dream in his bed is stark contrast to this Pilate, but that earlier Pilate drives this one. We'll get back to Pilate in a minute.

But first there's Herod. Talk about a showstopper. Herod's scene has always been...different, but this is magnificent. This is a tip of the hat to the Great Gatsby - it's nearly a lap dance to Gatsby. Rik Mayall is superb. The set, costuming, choreography - I simply don't know how you could improve on the scene. Christ is being accused, and so far has simply responded by pointing out that his accusers are the only ones saying he's a king. When Herod starts his song and dance there's a quick shot of Christ shaking his head. It's as if this is worse than the interrogations. Herod is so far over the top the only analogy that came to mind was Noel Coward on LSD. The range of emotion he presents is amazing given how short the song is - especially when you subtract time for the zoot-suited guards to do their dance bit during the bridge.

The next scene is such a change that it's easy - but important not to - miss. Overlying scenes of the mob beating Christ, Mary and Peter sing a beautiful rendition of Could We Start Again, Please? Then Judas returns to Caiaphas and Annas to beg for Christ's release. Suddenly the same melody which has followed the Caiaphas and Annas throughout the story sounds different. It's not appreciably different, but now it sounds more malevolent. It is here that Judas realizes the true implications of his actions, laying spread-armed on the street. He sees his fate and knows that he has only one choice. His death shocks even the press into silence. And then Christ is returned to Pilate, somewhat worse for wear. This time Pilate feels more desperate. He doesn't want the job placed before him, but Caiaphas and Annas lead the crowd into forcing his hand. Pilate tries to maintain his military standing and bearing while looking for any way out to show mercy. Christ's refusal to even pretend to defend himself gives Pilate the option of claiming Christ is a madman and ordering him flogged. A sentence of 40 lashes was considered a death sentence, so Pilate orders 39. This song has always fascinated me. It's about as difficult as your average garage band riff, and the lyrics are nothing but the numbers 1 to 39, and yet it carries a great deal of emotion.

Following the beating when Christ still refuses to defend himself, Pilate is pushed over the edge and washes his hands of the matter, releasing Christ to the crucifixion which he appears to want. It drives Pilate mad to make the order, but he has no choice - just like Judas. And then we receive the fanfare which set the stage for Webber's career - his standard, if you will. The spirit of Judas comes back in red leather to sing to Christ on his way up the hill. After the first angelic refrain Judas is crouched looking into the face of Christ. As the music pulls up, Judas pulls up as if he's on strings. Even from Hell he has no choice in his actions. He ostensibly has status and rewards in Hell, and yet even then the only thing he wants to know is whether or not Christ still believes what's been said about him. The crucifixion itself is done majestically and respectfully. The final scenes show the body being given over to his followers, who gather around it on the steps, then over time they dwindle away until the only ones remaining are Mary and the spirit of Judas.

I know there was rancor because the play showed the death of Christ but not the resurrection. That never bothered me because it was supposed to be the story of Judas as much as Christ. And what more can be said? Here you have a series of performances which stand easily on their own merit. Those involved should be proud of their accomplishments. There's a brief Making Of... at the end of the production which answers some questions about the creation of this piece. You learn that they used three cameras, how the lighting was planned, what they hoped to accomplish with the costuming, and so forth. Gale Edwards mentions here that she wanted to make this appeal to younger people who don't remember it from 30 years ago. I'd like to think she succeeded.

• based upon the production staged and conceived by Gale Evans
• directed by Gale Edwards
• lyrics by Tim Rice
• music by Andrew Lloyd Webber
• Cast: Glen Carter (Jesus Christ), Jerome Pradon (Judas Iscariot), Renee Castle (Mary Magdalene), Fred Johanson (Pontius Pilate), Rik Mayall (King Herod), Frederick B. Owens (Caiaphas), Michael Shaeffer (Annas), Tony Vincent (Simon Zealotes), Calvin Cornwall (Peter), Matthew Cross (Christian), Kevin Curtin (Christian), Paul Vickers (Christian), Mykal Rand (Christian), Paul Keating (Christian), Gerard Bentall (Christian), Robert Vincencio (Christian), Grant Anthony (Christian), Simon Ward Nicholson (Christian), Peter Gallagher (Caiaphas' Assistant), Michael McCarthy (Caiaphas' Assistant), Phillip Cox (Caiaphas' Assistant), Claire Coates (Herod's Assistants), Nikki Belsher (Herod's Assistants), Rebecca Parker (Herod's Assistants)