Simon Zealotes in Jesus Christ Superstar

There was an incomprehensible remake of “Jesus Christ Superstar” in 2000. I rather liked “King Herod’s Song” in the new version. I haven’t see much of the rest of it. I did see “Simon Zealotes” or George Bush in the desert in the new version and it sucked. Jesus acts like he just discovered that some people can be fanatical. Simon Zealotes sounds more like a killer than a fanatic. He lost all the charm of fanaticism.

I loved the original version of this song, in the 1972 movie. For many years it was, with some qualification, my favorite 3 or 4 minutes of film.

Simon and his followers appear from nowhere and surround Jesus, and Simon Zealotes, played magnificently by Larry Marshall, tells Jesus that he now has the opportunity to rally his followers and lead a military insurrection against the Romans. He tempts him with power and glory, and advises him to “keep them yelling their devotion, but add a touch of hate at Rome”. His people will win themselves a home, and Jesus will be remembered forever. Simon’s followers dance frenetically throughout this scene, and it is clear that Jewison staged the dance over and over and over again until the dancers were exhausted– in the last few cuts you can see them flailing about and sweating and losing equilibrium as they try to move faster and faster. Judas (Carl Anderson) watches from a distance, disturbed.

By the way, no, the music and singing was not recorded during filming. It was recorded in a studio in England. The singing that you hear is not coming from the dancers on the screen.

It’s a brilliant scene– all the more brilliant for Rice’s remarkable insights into Christ’s response: he tells Simon that he doesn’t understand power or glory, and that, to conquer death, you only have to die.

At the time the movie came out, I took Simon Zealotes to be a leftist revolutionary, promising political and social paradise to his deluded followers, ready, in chapter 2, to become a fat, corrupt King Herod. And he probably was meant to be a Che Guevara type. Today, you might just as well take him for George Bush: with a complete and utterly foolish belief in the power of force to bring lasting peace and justice. But in George Bush’s version, Jesus does grab a Kalashnikov and joins the gang.

I liked the original version much better than the TV movie version released in 2000. Not surprising, really: the original was made by Norman Jewison. And Larry Marshall (Simon Zealotes) is fabulous. Not everyone can take him. I’ve seen ridiculous comments on Youtube about how he looks like “an ape”. Would you have preferred Danny Bonaduce? Or Barry Gibb? Some people confuse art with tranquilizers.

I think he is absolutely hysterically beautiful.

Somewhere in the desert in Iraq, George Bush isn’t dancing anymore. He continues to wave his Kalashnikov. He still thinks he can stop the pagans with bullets and technology and Burger Kings and Walmarts. And the girl in the tight brown pants kicks her leg up so high you want to jump into the air with her and twirl and sweat and scream and keep yelling your devotion.


One of the things I loved about the original version: there is a girl in an orange skirt with short brown hair. As the camera pans over the group near the end of “Simon Zealotes”, she moves out from behind another dancer, without even looking up: here I am.  Obviously, the dancer, the fanatical follower of Simon Zealotes, is not supposed to be “aware” of a camera.  And that is exactly what I found quietly endearing about that moment: just a quick, discrete flash of the dancer’s ego, which she accomplished without even seeming to look up.

Another girl wearing low-cut slacks tugs on them several times, after executing a high leg kick. Why? Were they falling down? I can’t tell you why but I didn’t mind the girl in the orange dress. There was something charming about that moment of vanity. But I was annoyed with the other girl: a true zealot wouldn’t have cared if her butt-crack was showing or even if her pants had fallen down.

It hurt the illusion of the film because unlike the girl in the orange dress, it was gesture of concealment rather than exposure.

The actor playing Jesus, Ted Neely , married the girl in the brown tights.

Jesus Christ Superstar (Film)

Looks, let’s get this straight about Jesus Christ Superstar. It is not what most people think it is. I don’t think it is even what Norman Jewison, the director, thinks it is. Least of all is it what Andrew Llloyd Webber thinks it is, though he wrote the music– nothing he did elsewhere in his career substantiated the promising intrigues of this modest little opera and film.

In short, some interpretations I’ve heard, which I think are wrong:

1. the movie is very “spiritual” and has led a lot of people to Christ. Look, it may be true that the movie has led some people to Jesus, but it’s not a very spiritual film at all. It’s very much about politics and power and organized religion as a social force. But God makes no appearance in this movie– he is conspicuously absent. The cheesy image of the sheep at the end (I’ll bet Jewison wishes he could take that one back.) is misleading. Jesus dies on the cross and, in this version of events, he stays there, leaving his followers and antagonists to wonder just who he really was.

Did you know there is even a web site devoted to very pious paintings of Ted Neely as Jesus? These are paintings of an actor playing Jesus, as if he really were Christ. Strange.

There are dozens and dozens of productions of this very expensive show– many of them by churches or religious groups. Even stranger. I mean, it’s agreeable– and certainly an improvement on the usual drivel many churches’ mistake for art, but it’s still somewhat surprising.

2. the movie is about a bad man, Judas, and how he grew jealous of Jesus’ popularity and betrayed him, only to be disappointed when he becomes a “superstar”. Oh please! Judas hangs himself because he realizes that he has caused the horrible death of an innocent man because he misunderstood the motivations of the Scribes and Pharisees. He thought Jesus was getting carried away with his mission and posed a threat to the foolish, innocents who surrounded him. When he realizes that the Pharisees and Scribes mean to kill Jesus, he understands that a) he has been just as foolish as Jesus, b) he has become the tool by which manifest evil will be committed, c) he is going to remembered as the man who betrayed the holiest man on earth.

3. the movie is about the different paths by which people come to find God. As I said, there is no God in this film. There are some stories about dark clouds blocking the sun during the crucifixion scenes, and about Norman Jewison running around modern day Israel pointing at archeological digs and shouting, “God is here”, but Jewison didn’t understand the opera, and tried to put a bit of a new age spin on things. Didn’t wash.

Significant Changes From Rice’s Original Script:

Original Caiaphas: “What you have done will be the saving of Israel,”
Movie Caiaphas: “What you have done will be the saving of everyone,”

Original Jesus to Pilate: “There may be a kingdom for me somewhere if I only knew!”
Movie Jesus to Pilate: “There may be a kingdom for me somewhere, if you only knew.”

Original Jesus, as he is mobbed by the poor and the lepers: “Heal yourselves!”
Movie Jesus: this angry, frustrated outburst is omitted.

Original: nothing
Movie: awful, schmaltzy song led by Peter and Mary on how they miss the guy: “Could We Start Again”. I believe the song was written for the original and then wisely omitted. The movie, needing an extra few minutes of scenery, resuscitated it, to ill effect.  The action, Jesus and Peter and Mary strolling in the hills, is cringy.

What does it mean? That Jewison tried to put a “correct” spin on the movie? Rice’s lyrics clearly imply that Jesus is deluded, and has begun to question his own mission. His irritated outburst at the mob of lepers and poor betrays a deep frustration with the demands put on him by an endlessly needy and desperate populace, and raises doubts about Jesus’ confidence in his ability to meet those demands. Then Jewison tries to make it sound like Jesus is one up on Pilate. And he tries to make it sound like Caiaphas is paying Judas an ironic compliment, when Rice meant to suggest that the betrayal is significant only to Israel.

What is the movie about? It’s about an extraordinary, complex man whose gifts and ideas generated intense responses in the people around him. The story constantly shifts focus from one constituency to another, from his disciples who hardly grasp what he means and hope to be famous some day, to Herod who finds him a curiosity, a joke, to Pilate who discerns the worth of the man, but sees him as a danger to himself, to Mary Magdalene doesn’t know how to love him, to the priests who see him undermining their legalistic authority. The utter clarity of the schematic should be apparent to everyone: all of the parties are self-interested, except for Jesus. Jesus is a shock to “Israel in 4 BC” as he would be today. He was the very definition of the word “provocative”. And you don’t have to believe that he was the literal son of God to understand this.

Without developing a theological treatise here, you could do worse than encapsulate the nature of his message thusly: blessed are the weak. This particular phrase has become a modern cliché, but it’s fundamental subversiveness should never be underestimated. All around us, we proclaim “blessed” are the strong, the successful, the rich, the able, the triumphant, the popular, the creative, and so on. To understand the subversiveness of Christ’s message, try to picture Pat Robertson standing in front of his earnest Republican cohorts, or Madeline Albright in front of the U.N., or Eminem at the Grammys, or Colin Powell in Jerusalem: blessed are the losers. Aint gonna happen.

On the other hand, picture former President Carter hammering a shingle on a house for Habitat for Humanity. Every president of the U.S. claims to be a God-fearing Christian, but Carter is the only one I know of who actually might be one.

The tragedy of the movie is that when Christ resists the temptation to play to the self-interests of those around him, they do him in. And so it will always be. I doubt if the reaction to Christ today would be any different. Those Christians who rave about how they can’t wait for his return have one serious problem: they won’t know him. If Christ returned today, he would not say, “blessed are the cheerleaders…”

And that’s what is being done to the original rock opera itself.

The movie was reasonably faithful to the opera (which was recorded before the show was produced anywhere) at least partly because it had to be: it was an opera. The terms were relatively fixed.

But do a quick search on the internet and you’ll find that it is being appropriated by people who don’t seem to understand or care what it means.