This is a review of an Oz highschool production of the musical Godspell. It has some relevance to topics under discussion here.
Do you like loud, cheerful music? Do you enjoy bright, colourful lights and eye-searing costumes? Does the thought of thirty-five chirpy individuals leaping enthusiastically across the stage make you quiver with joy? Then Godspell is certainly the musical for you. Set in a thick, choking layer of smog – sorry, the ruins of the World Trade Centre – Godspell (incidentally, the old English word for gospel), tells the gospel according to Matthew as a series of amusing parables that will leave you with an irrational urge to be moral and Christian in an amazingly happy way.
While Godspell was originally written with a cast of eight, this production used twelve, plus extras – thirty-five in all. There were only two recognizably biblical characters, namely Jesus and John the Baptist/Judas – or at least, they were supposed to be recognizable. Poor John-boy and his ilk were tragically sundered so that where there had been one character, there was now two, leaving them mere shadows of their former selves. While this made it possible for more people to be involved, it fragmented the characters, leaving them dull, cardboard-like and less distinguishable from one another. When all the characters are dressed the same, it’s nice to be able to tell them apart by their personalities. When the characters don’t have personalities – well, you’re in a bit of a pickle.
The cast of Godspell all wore clown costumes, a bright patchwork of different garments that supposedly represented ‘free spirit’. The character of Jesus wore a Superman t-shirt in a lovely display of symbolism and his stars ‘n’ spangles pants supported the ‘America, America’ theme that pervaded the production. (By the end, the people in the front row of the audience were talking with a twang and asking for the nearest Mickey D’s.) In fact the only character not dressed in colourful tatters was Judas. Black and white were his colours of choice in an outfit more reminiscent of a gangster than a clown. This was a somewhat unsubtle move on the producer’s part. Do you see the Bad Guy? He’s the one wearing black. As it was, the characters were so anonymous that any clue as to who they were was appreciated. It wasn’t until halfway through the first act (for the viewers who weren’t quite so quick on the uptake) that it became apparent that Jesus was Jesus, and the identity of John the Baptist remains a mystery to this day.
It would be easy to label the costumes as simply ‘flower-child’ as the producer himself did, but the truth is that no-one wore that sort of rag-tag get-up, even in the swinging sixties. The costumes were deliberately unreal, and added to the sense of surreality that pervaded the whole production. Coloured lights were used with the greatest of zeal, mostly to good effect, and the smoke flowed thick and fast from the smoke machine. While the gloomy environment added to mood, a little restraint wouldn’t have hurt. While the cast must suffer for the sake of their art, it is generally considered bad taste to cause your audience to choke to death.
The set itself was simple, supposedly set in the rubble of the Twin Towers but resembling more your average junk yard. Shredded paper was strewn on the ground, an American flag jutted at a jaunty angle and some scaffolding at the back supported the chorus. Pictures of the flag and the bald eagle projected on the wall alongside a projection screen completed the decorations. Arguably the most significant part of the set was the chicken wire fence that surrounded it. While it was distractingly obstructive and at some points downright irritating, it made an undeniably powerful statement. The fence created a physical barrier between the audience and subsequently the real world, and the world the actors created on the stage. It created a definite sense of distance between ‘them’ and ‘us’. Regrettably, this marvellous effect was spoiled by the fact that more than once the actors came out. At points of high emotion the actors would rattle on the fence as if the were trying to ‘break through’ but couldn’t. Then at other times, for no apparent reason they would come skipping merrily out into the audience. It was confusing and if it was supposed to represent ‘breaking through the barrier’ it certainly wasn’t obvious.
Godspell’s music was fantastically musical. The band played loudly but not badly, and the singers were enthusiastic. The songs themselves are quite literally forgettable, but listening to them will not make you want to chew your own ears off – always a bonus. The actors/singers were surprisingly good: Some people sang brilliantly, some were wincingly awful, but on average the cast were quite talented. The songs you may well walk away whistling will probably be the patriotic numbers played before the performance and during intermission (notably ‘Land of the Free’). Whether it was repeated for the benefit of those in the audience who missed the pro-America themes or because ‘American Pie’ and ‘America’ were the only other American songs the director could find is a mystery, but the songs were on the whole pleasant.
The underlying problem with Godspell, one which had the unfortunate effect of eclipsing all other good and bad points, is that it was ultimately done in very poor taste. In a bold and frankly contemptible move, the musical opens with footage of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Centre. The director was apparently trying to highlight Godspell’s underlying theme of destruction and rebirth, and show how much people have healed since September 11th. He might have been forgiven his incredible gall if he had indeed succeeded in linking the fall of the Twin Towers with Godspell in a moving, meaningful way that reminded the audience of the tragedy of that day, but left them filled with renewed faith. While the audience was indeed left with feelings of hope, it was not so much hope for the future as hope that the performance would be over soon.
What the director actually produced was a heavy-handed attempt to generate emotion, with little or no relevance to the actual musical. The ‘America’ theme felt tacked on, seemingly completely unrelated to Godspell itself. There appeared to be no point to the theme, which in turn implied a lack of concern for the events themselves. While this was probably not deliberate, it nevertheless reduced the musical from a reasonably entertaining production to a highly displeasing excursion into the realms of tastelessness.
A similar case can be made about the necessity of the projection screen in the background. Apart from the Twin Towers segment, it regaled the audience with images of leaves, parties, cities and random anonymous people. (Let’s not even mention the incredibly tacky ‘flying through space’ introduction.) One of the parables was echoed by a silent movie version of the same story. The sequence was amusing but confusing if you tried to keep track of both the acting on stage and the faster, out-of-sync images on the screen. Rather than providing an engaging backdrop to the performers, the screen was distracting and felt like it was there simply because it could be there. It was actually least offensive when it simply displayed the Godspell logo. The musical would not have suffered if the screen had not been there at all.
While the words ‘highschool musical’ do not inspire feelings of great confidence, the cast of Godspell displayed a surprising level of talent. However, just because you get your eggs from prize-winning hens doesn’t mean you won’t make God-awful souffle. The overall impression of Godspell was that without the dubious attempt to tie the whole production to the appalling tragedy of September 11, and with better execution, it could have been a highly enjoyable piece of brain candy.
If you’re thick skinned, easily amused and enjoy shiny things, go forth and be swept away by the crazy crazy fun of Godspell. You won’t regret it.
