I, my dear friends, am not what you call a religious person. I do like to ponder about the great beyond from time to time, mostly because I find wild speculations entertaining. The idea of reincarnation comforts me because my greatest fear is death. Yet even though the fact that I will cease to exist one day has kept me up an embarrassing amount of nights, I have never really found true solace in any sort of organized religion. Which isn’t to say I think the basic tenets of the vast majority of them are wrong. Once you take out all the patriarchal bullshit and the mythological stories, I do believe most religions boil down to one thing: Be nice. Don’t be a hater.
Having said that, I do have a strange fascination with Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Jesus Christ Superstar. Of course, as with any piece to have ever graced the Broadway stage, there are elements of the ridiculous all throughout. Jesus probably looked like the jihad terrorists that populate the nightmares of Republican everywhere, and not like the super dreamy Ted Neely. The chorus line of angels singing with Judas are a little too sexy, a little too disco, and a whole lot of fabulous. When my parents took me to see it in Washington DC, King Herod was played by a drag queen wearing a jumpsuit that conveniently revealed part of his body.
It was the first time I saw a grown man’s ass.
However, anyone who has ever seen the musical can attest that the songs freaking rock. I kind of think, though, that my total adoration for it goes beyond a fine appreciation of its aesthetic qualities or my penchant for 70s camp. Deep down, I dig the idea of finding salvation through a communal hippie lifestyle. I do find the concept of Jesus–and Buddha, or Mohammed, or any other influential religious icon–as a political revolutionary fighting for justice and equality appealing. I just wish the powers that be would follow in those footsteps, instead of reminding half of the world’s population that we’re not worthy. Because that’s how it always has been.
I don’t believe in Jesus Christ. At least not in the way he’s usually presented. But I totally believe in Jesus Christ Superstar.
The no-hands cartwheels! The insane hair flips! The slow motion cams during leaps! Larry Marshall’s pipes! The reminder that you’re totally missing the point when you use a message of love to spread hate!
Ugh, that terrifying, gut wrenching moment when you realize your slutty days are over because you’re head over heels over a dude.
Judas comes down on a crane, dressed like Black Elvis, to ask Jesus why he wasn’t more of a fame whore. Amazing! Also, where can I get those wigs?
Happy weekend everybody!