Jack Hopewell’s Jesus is part golden-throated rock god (think Robert Plant with a dash of Axl) with a guitar slung over his shoulder, and part fragile, holy vessel. Crowds bow before him in ritualistic self-flagellation (Ashley Andrews choreographs the fever-dream movements). Even as the mob thrills at his demise, he resists nothing. He steps straight into destiny, practically daring us to watch: “See how I die!”
Elvie Ellis plays Judas in the North American tour of "Jesus Christ Superstar." (Evan Zimmerman)
The show belongs as much to Judas as Jesus, and Elvie Ellis rides that arc like it’s a soul-shaking odyssey — from intimations of guilt (“Damned For All Time/Blood Money”) to whispery, taunting falsetto (“I Don’t Know How to Love Him”) to becoming, strangely, tragically, the story’s most wounded figure, even with hands stained with the betraying powder from 30 pieces of silver.
Ellis delivers his role with cracked, aching conviction: “God! I’ll never ever know why you chose me for your crime — your foul bloody crime — you have murdered me!” Cue the choir’s icy Gregorian “Poor old Judas.” OK then. Poor old Judas.
Faith Jones completes the holy trinity as Mary, soothing Jesus (“Everything’s Alright”) while wrestling her own trembling contradictions (“He scares me so / I want him so / I love him so”). Her shimmering soprano hovers at the crossroads of desire and devotion — warm, soulful and spine-tingling.
Isaac Ryckeghem’s sunglasses-sporting Caiaphas unleashes a bass-baritone so deep it sounds piped in from the underworld (“This Jesus Must Die”). Deliciously menacing. Erich Schleck’s Herod, all Joker grin and chalk-pale swagger, mocks Jesus with a cabaret-tilt sneer: “Prove to me that you’re divine — change my water into wine.” Jesus declines the party trick. Instead, he submits to a rock-and-ruin finale that becomes its own roaring revelation.
Keith Caggiano’s set looks like the archaeological ruins of a sacred apartment block, dotted with jutting crosses and portals where performers appear like echoes from history and rock lore alike. The lighting turns the stage into a gallery of biblical iconography — and the final tableau is pure visual poetry: Jesus silhouetted on the cross, fog rising, light blasting through his departing spirit. It’s a mic-drop ending for an already volcanic show.
