Jesus Christ Superstar West End Reviews

Sam Ryder, with his sinewy appearance, flowing locks and natural non-hipster beard, looks as though he was born to play the role of Jesus (amazingly, he was also a trainee carpenter in his youth). Today it is all-too easy to see the part as a psuedo ...

Sam Ryder, with his sinewy appearance, flowing locks and natural non-hipster beard, looks as though he was born to play the role of Jesus (amazingly, he was also a trainee carpenter in his youth). Today it is all-too easy to see the part as a psuedo hippy wellness guru, but Ryder's West End debut brings raw vulnerability and real passion to the role. His vocal range and control are highly impressive, particularly when you bear in mind he has never had professional singing lessons.

Sheader’s approach is to re-emphasise the boldness, to let the music carry the drama, and to let character emerge. The approach pays dividends in Ryder’s Jesus, a performance defined by his popstar presence and by the soar of his voice in that fa...

Sheader’s approach is to re-emphasise the boldness, to let the music carry the drama, and to let character emerge. The approach pays dividends in Ryder’s Jesus, a performance defined by his popstar presence and by the soar of his voice in that falsetto register. People respond to him because he seems genuine and nice; he brings both those qualities to his portrayal in his West End debut, but also finds true drama as the show reaches its un-triumphal conclusion of sacrifice and suffering.

Drew McOnie’s muscular yet expressive choreography remains a marvel, especially for the zealous, convulsive mob (led by the magnetic Charley Warburton). Tom Scutt’s design features towering scaffolding as well as indelible details like gold glitt...

Drew McOnie’s muscular yet expressive choreography remains a marvel, especially for the zealous, convulsive mob (led by the magnetic Charley Warburton). Tom Scutt’s design features towering scaffolding as well as indelible details like gold glitter hurled at Jesus during his flagellation, or glistening liquid silver poured over Judas’s hands. Tom Deering gets a thunderous rock sound out of the phenomenal onstage band; along with Lee Curran’s blinding stadium floodlights, it adds to a thrillingly visceral experience. The climactic “Superstar” is extraordinary in its juxtaposition of euphoria and sheer horror.

There are some handsome tableaux, including a nifty Last Supper recreation, but amid Drew McOnie’s pleasing but impressionistic choreography on Tom Scutt’s ancient-meets-modern set you may lose track of which imposing fella is which: is that grav...

There are some handsome tableaux, including a nifty Last Supper recreation, but amid Drew McOnie’s pleasing but impressionistic choreography on Tom Scutt’s ancient-meets-modern set you may lose track of which imposing fella is which: is that gravel-voiced man Caiaphas or someone from The Matrix? Is that Pontius Pilate, losing some of Tim Rice’s lyrics in the sonic soup? (It is: an otherwise tremendous David Thaxton.) I would have welcomed a more tangible early tension between Jesus and Tyrone Huntley’s Judas — their standoffs sometimes yards away from one another, to fill the set — but Huntley is a highlight, making real human complexity poke its face out of this megawatt machine. Desmonda Cathabel is an easy presence as Mary Magdalene: Everything’s Alright flows like water.

Besides, just as the score, exhilaratingly, keeps changing gear and mood, so Ryder ambushes us with surges of emotional force – turning with irritation on his groupies (dressed like hippy commune vagabonds), and with reproving yet compassionate ire...

Besides, just as the score, exhilaratingly, keeps changing gear and mood, so Ryder ambushes us with surges of emotional force – turning with irritation on his groupies (dressed like hippy commune vagabonds), and with reproving yet compassionate ire on Tyrone Huntley’s hectoring, haunted, pitch-perfect Judas. The attention to inventive detail is unflagging, and everyone’s on song: Desmonda Cathabel is sensational as Mary Magdalene; David Thaxton makes his mark as Pontius Pilate, another figure who feels trapped by fate.

But the first thing that hits you here is the sound, which contains Greek levels of melodrama. It’s a shame it stays at a single, fever-pitched high, flattening the emotional drama. Still, there is the glory of the signature song, Superstar, and th...

But the first thing that hits you here is the sound, which contains Greek levels of melodrama. It’s a shame it stays at a single, fever-pitched high, flattening the emotional drama. Still, there is the glory of the signature song, Superstar, and the vocal blast of both Ryder and Huntley is a sound to behold. Rock and electric guitar crisscrosses choral church music and there are flecks of jazz and gospel. The voices really do raise the roof, especially Ryder’s. He gets a standing ovation for Gethsemane, Jesus’s confrontation with God.

All in all it’s a good production that slots into the Jamie Lloyd era of Sexy Lloyd Webber very nicely indeed. The problem, I’m afraid, is the lead. A year ago Lloyd directed Evita at the Palladium and it was made by an astonishing turn from Rach...

All in all it’s a good production that slots into the Jamie Lloyd era of Sexy Lloyd Webber very nicely indeed. The problem, I’m afraid, is the lead. A year ago Lloyd directed Evita at the Palladium and it was made by an astonishing turn from Rachel Zegler. Sam Ryder has been given the same stage and just isn’t in her league. He’s a pop star – but we needed a superstar.

Characters sing into hand-held microphones and, for the crucifixion, Ryder’s Jesus is lashed with electrical leads to a pair of crossed mic stands. His first appearance is also at the mic, with his guitar, and Ryder cuts a suitably rock-star figure...

Characters sing into hand-held microphones and, for the crucifixion, Ryder’s Jesus is lashed with electrical leads to a pair of crossed mic stands. His first appearance is also at the mic, with his guitar, and Ryder cuts a suitably rock-star figure throughout, entirely apt and at home in this environment. But as an actor, Ryder doesn’t quite convince; there’s a posturing, presentational flavour to his performance. And vocally, while he unsurprisingly has no difficulty soaring to the falsetto heights of the role, he’s less comfortable in the lower register, where there’s not only a lack of firepower, but sometimes of audibility, the words blurry and breathy.