Far be it from me to cast the first stone, but there’s nothing about
“Godspell,” the Stephen Schwartz/John-Michael Tebelak musical based on
the Gospel according to St. Matthew, that convinces me it deserves the
resounding worldwide success it has had for the past 35 years. I must
be missing something. What does it take to make watching a group of
young street people act out New Testament parables not seem like an
elementary class in theater games for actors?
The answer is not forthcoming in this rather perfunctory production
under the earnest direction of Daniel Goldstein. Perhaps because the
original concept is so deeply rooted in the simplistic conceit of
flower children philosophy and so permanently defined by its naively
considered metaphysical insights that there is probably no way to make
this show any better than what Goldstein, his artistic collaborators,
and the technical staff has conscientiously wrought upon it.
The ubiquitous scaffolding that has saved many a production set
designer (in this case, the work of David Korins) from thinking beyond
the elemental has for added visual appeal the glow of scattered work
lights. On the stage are the obligatory collection of ladders and
pails, a clothes rack, a trap door for the occasional
now-you-see-me-now-you-don’t effect, and a six-piece band perched on
what looks like a junk pile in the corner. Lighting designer Ben
Stanton, however, pulls out all the stops to give different glows and
hues to the enthusiastically performed numbers that come and go with
the necessary concession to tradition.
Enthusiastic is also the best way to describe the work of the
personable and talented young cast, who occasionally elevate some of
the skits and songs out of the ordinary. Stephen Schwartz, the show’s
composer, who seems to have found his place among the more
commercially successful contemporary composers of American musical
theater (“Wicked,” “Pippin”), is credited with providing some new
lyrics. But where or when they are introduced was difficult to tell
considering the shrillness of the theater’s electronic enhancement
that made much of what was sung incomprehensible. An attempt by cast
members to go into the aisles to provoke clapping-along is only lamely
considered.
The basic structure of the show remains true to a toddler’s
Bible-school format with a little satire and sex thrown in for G-rated
titillation. Although the Paper Mill Playhouse production employs all
the facile theatrics, vaudevillian-like shtick, and youthful
playfulness to fulfill the needs of the show, it never becomes more
than the ho-hummable circus-y Saturday morning sermon for the easily
converted. In all fairness, the audience responded to the puerile fun
with frequent outbursts of applause. The inherent irreverence at the
core of the show may appeal to those unable or unwilling to consider
the source, and that’s okay.
Perhaps times have changed us just enough to resist what is basically
childish humor. A soft shoe between Jesus and Judas donning straw hats
and canes is fun, as is the Baptism scene in which a water spout pours
from the rafters into a barrel from which John the Baptist performs
the ensemble inclusive ritual with a sponge.
Some of the text performed as rap gets our rapt attention. Less
amusing is the belabored song “Turn Back O Man” that finds seductress
Julie Reiber wiggling her derriere in the aisles aggressively enough
to have sent one little boy running up the aisle not only to escape
her but also to avoid the fling of her lethal red feather boa. Having
one of the company’s many fine voices, Anika Larsen puts over the
show’s big hit tune “Day by Day.”
The juices really begin to flow when Sarah Bolt takes the show by
storm with her dynamic takes on the gospel-esque songs “Learn Your
Lessons Well” and “Bless the Lord, My Soul.”
An endearingly energized Robin De Jesus, most familiar for his role in
the delightful 2003 indie film, “Camp,” about teens at a theater camp,
gets his juices flowing through the physically empowering “We Beseech
Thee.” It’s almost enough of a high to get us through the drone of the
last few minutes with the obligatory Crucifixion. And where is the
resurrection when we need one?
– Simon Saltzman
“Godspell,” through Sunday, October 22, Paper Mill Playhouse,
Brookside Drive, Millburn. $19 to $68. 973-376-4343 or
www.papermill.org.
