Review: Jesus Christ Superstar at the Lyceum, Sheffield

Couldn’t we all do with somebody to believe in, a leader to get behind, a threat to the establishment with a new message of hope?

It’s been more than half a century since Jesus Christ Superstar exploded into being in 1971, first as a rock album and then as a Broadway musical, penned by a pair of precocious unknowns… a long-haired composer by the name of Andrew Lloyd Webber and his lyricist Tim Rice.

It was a brash, flamboyant, controversial smash – and it’s been resurrected many times since.

This electrifying production, which won an Olivier for Best Musical Revival, began as an epic outdoor staging at Regent’s Park in 2016, and now comes indoors for a UK tour which has already thrilled audiences across the US.

At the Lyceum in Sheffield until Saturday, the set is a cross between a rock band’s stage and a city’s bridges – riveted steel girders beneath which the down-and-outs and drug dealers might dwell.

It’s grungy, gritty and dark, and a choreography of punchy, interpretive dance delivers a sense of foreboding from the start.

Jesus is played by the incredible Ian McIntosh, last seen in Sheffield in 2022 as Deco in The Commitments. His character follows a similar arc here. He doesn’t initially seem someone who could be a charismatic superstar – until he starts to sing.

Brilliant two years ago in The Commitments, he is out of this world in this. His searing vocals, awesome range and heart-stopping falsetto are breathtaking.Judas, played by Shem Omari James, is a troubled soul, full of bravado yet weakly selling out his friend for 30 pieces of silver.

When he collects his dirty money and the silver explodes onto his arms, staining his skin and his conscience as blood on his hands, it’s just one of many powerful pieces of imagery – the brilliant Last Supper scene among them – in designer Tom Scutt’s visually stunning set.

The other disciples aren’t saints in robes either, but gang members and a hooker in hoodies and sweatpants, youths on the fringes of society, looking for direction.

The rapid non-stop pace of the show leaves little time for applause, which is a shame. Every performer deserves acclaim.

Hannah Richardson is vocally gorgeous as Mary Magdalene, while Timo Tatzber is insane as Herod – hysterically deranged like King George in Hamilton in his huge gold cloak, his slaves’ decapiated heads dancing on platters.

Ryan O’Donnell as Pontius Pilate appears like a rock star, all dry ice and electric guitar, handing Jesus to Herod with the callous screeching reverb of a mic drop.

But like Jesus he is just a man, an ordinary face behind the mask, doomed to take the blame for the rest of time.