Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber

Lyrics by Tim Rice

Directed by Timothy Sheader

Tickets from £21.50

Sourcing the humanity, the significant extremities within the zeitgeist of biblical figures, Jesus Christ Superstar, has long thundered an intentional juxtaposition to ruffle the feathers of politics, the church, misplaced adoration, and the Catholic obsession with guilt. One of musical theatre’s most successful, indeed most complicated musicals – in terms of its narrative and sung-through storytelling: never shy of controversy, Andrew Lloyd Webber and Time Rich’s notoriously vim and extensive conceptual rock-opera charters the final days of Jesus Christ’s life – and the paradigms and relationships they shared with those closest to him: Judas Iscariot, and Mary Magdalene.

A deep breath of verve and vibrancy has been caressed into the production, a UK tour of the Olivier award-winning reinterpretation from Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre. That revitalising breath has been channelled significantly into the movement, Jesus Christ Superstar has never moved like this or felt this alive. Drew Mconie’s choreography is a significant contribution to the rejuvenating essence of the show – while it maintains the powerful vocals and stoic solos, now the ensemble and dancers shake the foundations of the theatre as resoundingly as the singers raise the roof. At times, it becomes clear that it’s the production’s biggest drawback, as well as its contemporary grace, struggling with the constricting size of the King’s narrower stage, encroaching upon characters and sequences: The 39 Lashes shifts from a creatively cruel and intense moment into an overcrowded free-for-all which intrudes upon Jesus’ final agony, the thrusts and pounding of the choreography puncturing in a few last brutal, and occasionally repetitious movements.

The layers of thought which have gone into Sheader’s direction at times are awe-inspiring in how simplistic but canny it all is. From the enormous crucifix that serves as a main stage for performance, Tom Scutt’s central design piece, to the frequent artistic use of audio-cables and microphone stands, visual elements with silver paint – thrashing out against a grungy and bronze and metal-hued aesthetic cast a striking, and profoundly symbolic use in the act-one closing. Later, substituting whip snaps for additional creative flecks of glitter and the sharp crack from the audio design, the use of live-onstage musicians and microphones work to ensure the gig-theatre vibe: sweaty, cramped, anxious, and raw.

All anointed in Lee Curran’s dramatic lighting, which nails the operatic elements, the King’s Theatre is basked in the embracement of warming light to most industrial and mediating blues and orange tones, culminating, of course, in concert levels of spotlighting. All the while Scutt’s costumes, such as the Roman facemasks are adorned onto the ensemble to command a sense of ever-present authority, their chiselled statuesque faces, when paired with the combination spears/microphone plummet us from heaven’s graces into a gritty nightclub vibe for The Temple, with Michael Riley’s musical direction keeping the pace up throughout.

Vocally, Sheader’s staging of Jesus Christ Superstar is pitched to perfection – a terrifically nuanced blend of rock vocals with clarity and blissfully poignant communication and understanding of the lyrics and tone. Capturing the vision for the show is Hannah Richardson as Mary, who delivers a hypnotically tender demonstration of Mary’s kindness, loyalty, and temptation Christ is put upon through ‘I Don’t Know How to Love Him’. It’s a sublime contrast to Christ’s other love – Judas. Shem Omari James brings a soulful, even mourningly beguiling nature to their performance: Judas can see the hysteria surrounding Christ and the deviation from the original teachings. The journey Omari James embarks upon secures this as one of the more mortal, sympathetic Judas’, who manages to convey the shades of humanity despite struggling with some of the more fast-paced annunciations, leading to a room-silencing final fate.

Where Judas is often associative with the villainy onstage, it is instead the seedy and almost too contemporarily recognisable high priests Annas and Caiaphas, played with grim glee by Matt Bateman and Jad Habchi – who put a spin on the more traditional bass notes Caiaphas is known for, mixing in a superbly deep and rich voice with a few more screeching rock pitches. But the pair are only one part of the final call which seals Christ’s destined fate – the decision lies at the hands of Ryan O’Donnell’s sycophantic and broken-willed Pontius Pilate, yet still manages to capture a more nuanced and less outrightly arrogant Pilate than many others. His authority is solidified, wavering only to braying mobs who call for Christ’s execution.

Not for the first time, Julian Clary offers people the most memorable three minutes of their lives. King Herod has always been a popular, but minor role, one Clary relishes with their signature charm and delivery – a power-hungry, Queer, and camp interpretation of a Putinesque character, with just a hint of Biggins Panto magic. But that may just be the glitter.

Standing apart from the crowd and capturing brutality and rawness with their performance of Jesus that manages to defy the odds and stand toe-to-toe with Judas and Mary – roles usually edging out in front, Ian McIntosh achieves a hauntingly beautiful presence; agonising, but with a light emanating throughout the audience communicating an experience that even those without faith can sense rippling through the silence as the crucifixion rises, leading to an awe-striking finale which concludes this manic and intense rock opera, not with a shriek, but a solemn reflection.

Worth more than silver and gold, this is the opportunity to catch an award-winning production as it tours the nation. One which infuses an ambitious, if overly sized for the venue, sense of choreography and movement. Jesus Christ Superstar maintains a rightful place as a fierce and rewarding experience, with exceptionally adept vocals that not only grasp the structure of rock but the subtle nature of the emotional spectrum and weight of the story being told.