I'm an atheist who does not like musicals, so when considering my reviews of these two films -- brought back last month by the Guild Cinema -- take what I say about them with the proverbial pillar of salt.
HAIR (1979) (B) - The hit stage musical that partly epitomized the emergence of the Baby Boom in 1968 was finally brought to the screen at the end of the 1970s by Milos Forman, in a visually powerful film that must have seemed wistful and nostalgic for the previous decade even back then.
A long-haired Treat Williams (above) leads a spirited cast belting out old hits like "Aquarius," "Good Morning, Starshine" and "Let the Sunshine In," and dancing to the mesmerizing choreography of Twyla Tharp. John Savage plays the wide-eyed Oklahoma farm boy who falls in with a tribe of happy hippies frolicking in New York City on his way to Army duty in a matter of days. He also falls in love (like they do only in old-fashioned movies) with a rich girl played by Beverly D'Angelo.
This succeeds where "Jesus Christ Superstar" fails -- they don't try to sing every bit of dialogue, thankfully, and the songs have hooks and swing to them. Ringers abound. Nell Carter blasts out a couple of songs. Renn Woods sets the tone early on with a soulful version of "Aquarius." Punk chick Annie Golden is adorable as the tribe member expecting a child and not really caring whose it is. Ellen Foley pays homage to "Black Boys" in song. Charlotte Rae has a blast lusting after Williams when he crashes a high-society dinner. And devil-eyed Richard Bright stands out as an Army sergeant who gets rolled by the stoners.
Forman (coming off a long break after "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest") is in command from start to finish. He lionizes the anti-war spirit of the times, and he loads some scenes with hundreds of extras, particularly effective in the climactic crowd scene depicting a protest outside the White House. The kinetic energy created by Tharp's choreography never lets up, and rather than come off as arty or showy, it feels natural and propels the film with its inventive visuals.
The final act seems completely removed from the original stage show, as the hippies cook up a caper to rescue their Oklahoma pal from service in Vietnam. The bittersweet twist at the end feels like an homage to the death of the Sixties.
JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR (1973) (D+) - What in tarnation? I struggled mightily to understand this cinematic mess or find a hook to keep me watching. I failed.
"Jesus Christ Superstar" is the poster child for musical mayhem disguised as art. Theater people! Norman Jewison's adaptation injects modern elements into the story of Jesus and Judas during the week leading up to the crucifixion of Christ. It is bookended by scenes of a theater troupe rolling out into the Israeli desert to launch the god-forsaken production and finally loading back up onto a bus to drive off after the sacrifice of Our Lord. Whatever.
The music from Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Weber is brutally atonal at times, with nearly every word "sung." There are two standout tracks -- the title number and Yvonne Elliman's tender "I Don't Know How to Love Him" -- but most of the songs are forgettable if not irritating. The story is a mess. The character depictions are a farce. Jesus is played by blond, blue-eyed Ted Neeley.
All of this would be eclipsed and rendered as beta satire by Monty Python's "Life of Brian" six years later. As usual, the Python troupe ruined biblical epics for good. But even without the send-up, "Jesus Christ Superstar" plays as self-parody throughout.
BONUS TRACKS
Here is the cast of the 1968 musical performing "Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In" on the Ed Sullivan show and taking over the studio for the infectious conclusion:
Yvonne Elliman, iconic with "I Don't Know How to Love Him," one of the few highlights from "Jesus Christ Superstar":
The title track from "Superstar." Dig those white afros, backing up Carl Anderson as Judas:
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