JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR: Decoding the Seminal Musical

MARIA MAGDALENA

I don’t know how to love him.
What to do, how to move him.
I’ve been changed, yes really changed.
In these past few days, when I’ve seen myself,
I seem like someone else.

A woman with whom, according to Judas, Jesus should have nothing to do. She plays an important role as a symbol of conversion. She’s used to having many men in her life, men who were part of her work, with whom she shared nothing beyond physicality. Suddenly, she meets Jesus and falls in love with him. She struggles to cope with this newfound feeling.

She feels lost because one man has turned her world upside down, treating her with respect and offering his friendship. Yet, he is a man, as she says, “just a man,” like any other… but she loves him. For the first time, she has been overwhelmed by emotion, losing control over it. She desires Jesus, but at the same time, it frightens her because he is not just another man in her life, but the one who made her start to experience happiness and pain together. Desire is largely overcome by perceiving the other person on a completely different level, yet her desires still waver between physicality and spirituality.

CAIAPHAS

I see blood and destruction,
Our elimination because of one man.

Caiaphas is an exaggerated character. Everything about him suggests that he is a servant of Satan, from his voice to his demeanor. He closely resembles Jafar from Disney’s tales of Aladdin. Beyond the visual similarity, they share the same way of acting—plotting, driven by envy and jealousy, with a high opinion of himself. Caiaphas claims to foresee that Jesus will cause bloodshed and destruction. While fear of this determines Judas’s actions, for Caiaphas, it’s just a cheap excuse. He is the archetype of evil, symbolizing all those worst, primal human traits that one allows to dominate. For him, it’s simple—Jesus must die because he is a threat, bringing new values. These are values that are incomprehensible, foreign, and disruptive to the established order. The most disturbing thing about this character is that he might not even understand what he truly is; he sees himself as a defender of order. He is limited, unable to comprehend the nature of either good or evil, as he lives in the reality he inherited. He doesn’t ponder the meaning of anything; his path is dictated by trivial norms. The tragedy of this man is that he doesn’t realize he is a slave to the power he possesses. What shackles Pilate seems like liberation to him. He is a slave, unaware of his slavery, making it hard to respect him. Evil can be alluring, electrifyingly fascinating, but not when its essence is someone who is dominated by it. So, let’s not be deceived by Caiaphas and think that what drives him most is the vision of blood that might flood the world, with Christ as the cause.

HEROD

Jesus, I am overjoyed to meet you face to face.
You’ve been getting quite a name all around the place.
Healing cripples, raising from the dead.
And now I understand you’re God,
At least, that’s what you’ve said.

So, you are the Christ, you’re the great Jesus Christ.
Prove to me that you’re divine—change my water into wine.

Get out of here!
Get out of here you,
Get out of my life.

I wondered if it was worth mentioning this character at all. To a large extent, he is a puppet, a jaded satire of an aesthete. Nevertheless, the character is so interestingly crafted by Joshua Hosteler that it’s hard to completely ignore him. He is a clown, greedy for entertainment and sensations. He’s quite repulsive, tanned to a brown shade, unable to stand being ignored—a great scene when soldiers and Jesus hurriedly leave him behind, and he amusingly runs after them, full of anger… Herod is a child of the circus. Illusions amuse him, and he is willing to believe as long as he sees it with his own eyes. At that point, it wouldn’t matter if it were true or just a trick. He would happily see Jesus as his court jester. It’s hard not to get the impression that if Christ performed even the smallest miracle before his eyes, Herod’s initial cynicism would turn into an attempt to draw Jesus into the entertainment world of this repulsive character. This man symbolizes those who seek easy thrills in the world, hedonists who don’t base their stance on philosophical foundations but see only one layer of pleasure. And that layer is stopping at the level of a spoiled child’s development, unable to negate reality in any way other than stomping their foot. Herod would be a completely harmless character if the malice of fate hadn’t entrusted him with power. However, it’s difficult to determine if power limits him in the same way it does Pilate or Caiaphas. Herod is limited by his jaded lifestyle and intellectual shortcomings, and power is merely a means to ensure he can continue to exist in such conditions.

…INTO YOUR HANDS, I COMMIT MY SPIRIT…

This film sparked protests and stirred controversy. The figure of Jesus has become an icon, a sanctity that should not be open to any discussion or reflection. As a result, he has become a dead figure, lost somewhere between fossilized slogans and thoughtless faith.

A very accurate analogy of this stance is also depicted in the film. During the piece The Temple, we see Jesus overturning the stalls in the temple. For modern Catholics, this is likely synonymous with standing against debauchery and corruption… but what could it have been for those people at the time? They were used to buying things in the House of God, accustomed to everything being for sale there. Suddenly, a madman runs in, claiming it’s his house, scattering everything around. It must have been similar with the reception of this musical among those who criticized it. Trained in a certain standard understanding of religion, accustomed to the shaped image of Jesus’s sanctity, they may not have been ready to accept him as an idol of a screaming crowd. But that’s what he must have been to the people of his time. He was what stars and directors are to us… someone you love when they’re on top and leave when they’re down, when they no longer meet expectations.

Webber and Rice accurately observed this. They proposed a portrayal of a man of flesh and blood. A man who loved, suffered, truly lived, and made a choice. That choice here becomes a heroic act. It provokes Jesus’s resistance, anger, bringing a moment where he is not submissive to his Father. He wants to know why he has to die; he wants a guarantee that his death won’t be in vain. He is overcome by doubt and demands explanations. Yet, he uses his free will consciously. He plays the cards dealt by God, but does so in a way that makes this man believable. This is emphasized most strongly—the humanity of Christ. He is like many idealists—starting with the noblest plans but admitting that he has changed, that they have become overwhelming—he cannot help every sick person (There are too many of you! Leave me alone!), he cannot change the way people think, he gives the crowd truth and goodness, but they see in him a leader who will shed the blood of oppressors… it turns out differently than he anticipated. And yet, despite this, he must sacrifice himself. Sacrifice for a world that will continue to lean towards the abyss. This provokes his bitterness, his resistance. He wants to live! On the cross, he still asks his Father why he has forsaken him… the final acceptance of his fate comes with the words, Into your hands, I commit my spirit, he lowers his head, fulfilling what he taught at the beginning—that to conquer death, one only needs to die…

Thanks to this portrayal, the viewer can identify with this character, feel empathy, without being separated from him by the boundary of cult or doctrine, which would prevent them from truly connecting with him. We also don’t fully know who this person was—a fantasist, an idealist who placed too much faith in the human race, a madman, or the Son of God, who knew the plan perfectly and understood that it had to be this way, and that his death wouldn’t make people better. The answer to this question doesn’t matter much; it’s hard to find in the film. The movie doesn’t resolve this issue. It’s merely a proposition, a suggestion for reflection, a request to consider what faith truly is, to ponder others’ reasons, and to realize how painful the clash between idealism and brutal reality can be. Finally, it’s a suggestion to see Jesus as the man he was, a man torn by emotions, sometimes doubting the divine plan. A man who ultimately wins, comes to terms with death, and decides to show trust. Easy? Certainly not, but it turns out that it is possible—possible to overcome one’s own weaknesses and doubts.

COULD WE START AGAIN?

An important issue that the film brilliantly portrays is the judgment of history—the fact that future generations will associate certain figures with specific actions, often based on surface-level understanding, unable to delve into their psyche or analyze the motivations behind their decisions. Judas is synonymous with betrayal, and Pilate with sentencing Christ. Yet here, this trio—Judas, Pilate, and Mary Magdalene—are the ones closest to Jesus. They are the ones who saw something beyond mere idol worship, who tried to push away their love for him, striving for independence, but ended up being deeply changed by him. When the performance ends, the young people board a bus, laughing, talking, and patting each other on the back. Only these three pause, turn around, and look at the cross. Mary wanted to reject the love she felt for Jesus, not knowing how to love him, as he had taken away her independence, making her feel something she had never felt before for a man.

Judas experiences similar dilemmas. He betrays Jesus, regrets it, still loves him, and before his death, asks, Does he care about me? Pilate, when trying to save Jesus, loses his confidence, momentarily sheds his cynicism, and becomes angry that Christ doesn’t fight for his life. The governor passes the sentence, driven by the pressure of a crowd eager for excitement, another spectacle, another sensation. This is what people crave—emotions. The apostles, too, think about how when the Gospel is written one day, they will be remembered forever… but this trio achieves something more. They cherish him, rebel against the fact that their feelings for him render them unable to function independently. They need him, but at the same time, Mary can’t protect him from his fate, and Pilate and Judas contribute to his death. Each of them would change a lot if the story could start again. Others, too, realize that Jesus has proven his point; they see that he has won, but they understood his plan too late. His life can no longer be saved. Yet, they are not ready for him to leave. They still need him.

DO YOU THINK YOU’RE WHAT THEY SAY YOU ARE?

The film intertwines the modern with the ancient, highlighting the timelessness of this story and underscoring the fact that despite the many centuries that have passed, only a few have truly understood why this man chose to die. Most people, instead of listening to what he said, decided to hear only what they wanted. Thus, the film is set in an authentic, desert landscape, with the ruins of an ancient city in the background, and modern clothing mingles with historical attire. There are tanks, and spears transform into guns. Judas is Black, Mary Magdalene has striking Indigenous features, and Herod looks like he just escaped from a tanning salon. You can pay with modern banknotes, and turn death into a grand spectacle. Historical accuracy or faithful representation of the Gospel is irrelevant. What matters is the cult of the individual—their defeat in life and their eternal presence in the consciousness of future generations. Jesus, like many idols, has endured.

Every time I look at you I don’t understand
Why you let the things you did get so out of hand.
You’d have managed better if you’d had it planned.
Why’d you choose such a backward time in such a strange land?
If you’d come today you could have reached a whole nation.
Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication.
Don’t you get me wrong.
I only want to know…

He died young, appreciated by few during his lifetime (apart from the hysterical adoration), yet his fame became eternal. The film shows that this was not what he sought, yet it was the one thing he could not overcome—adoration. This adoration turned into doctrine. Had he chosen a different time, as Judas suggests, he would have had easier access to people and likely wouldn’t have died on the cross but instead become a television star. However, that was not his goal.

The film also serves as a powerful illustration of a study on power. It shows how easily one can become a slave to that which is supposed to grant freedom.

Christ rejected power, even though it was offered to him by the crowd. He was the only one who did not allow himself to be assigned a predetermined role, which is why he triumphed over what, despite good intentions, both Judas and Pilate could not.

A point of interest is the ending, where the cross is silhouetted against the setting sun, and a shadowy figure ascends the hill. Given that in this story Jesus is portrayed as a man and the question of his divine nature remains unanswered, the allusion to resurrection seems intriguing. If we refer to the cult status that this figure has been surrounded by, it could emphasize how quickly he became an idol after his death. However, considering the scenery and the lack of witnesses, this ending seems to emphasize the ultimate victory. A victory over both life and death, which brought him eternal glory. What we must remember, however, is that this was the victory of a man.

Written by Iwona Kusion