Twin Films
Jesus Christ Superstar
Godspell
Howdy and hallelujah, my twins. I hope you’re staying healthy and happy and hydrated as Summer unofficially begins. This week I wanted to finally explore a theme I’ve had planned for ages, a theme my brilliant mom brought to me (with very specific films in mind), a theme centered upon a fascinating filmic phenomenon that has materialized both intentionally and completely by accident for over 100 years: the occurrence known as the “twin film.” To quote Wikipedia (every teacher’s least-reliable source that has now become one of the only trusted databases on the toxic, AI-riddled internet), “twin films are films with the same or similar plots, produced and released within a proximity of time by two different film studios. The phenomenon can result from two or more production companies investing in similar scripts at the same time, resulting in a race to distribute the films to audiences. Some attribute twin films to industrial espionage, the movement of staff between studios, or that the same screenplays are sent to several film studios before being accepted. Another possible explanation is if the films deal with topical issues”—as when two, near-identical documentaries about the failed Fyre Fest were released simultaneously. Screenwriter Terry Rossio notes that there are always film projects with similar subjects being developed in multiple studios, and that usually only one of them makes it into production in a given period of time, but twin films are as exceptions to this tendency. The first recorded occurrence of twin films happened in 1920, when two films titled Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde were released, and the first occurrence I personally noticed was with 2011’s completely unrelated but shockingly-similar Friends with Benefits and No Strings Attached. Not all sets of twin films are created equal, and some occurrences result in one film toppling the other in terms of cultural relevance and memorability, as with Jurassic Park and Carnosaur, or Twister and Tornado!. For a weekly blog that focuses solely upon 2 films that are connected by specific themes, it’s shocking that it’s taken me this long to cover Twin Films, but perhaps I was overwhelmed by my viewing options. Some examples include, but are not limited to: You’re a Big Boy Now / The Graduate (1967) , Yours, Mine, and Ours / With Six You Get Eggroll (1968), Betrayed / Talk Radio (1988), K-9 / Turner and Hooch (1989), King of New York / New Jack City (1991), Robin Hood / Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991), Kalifornia / Natural Born Killers(1994), Tombstone / Wyatt Earp (1993) Priscilla Queen of the Desert / To Wong Foo (1995), Braveheart / Rob Roy (1995), Antz / A Bug’s Life (1998), Deep Impact / Armageddon (1998), Saving Private Ryan / The Thin Red Line (1998), Last Days of Disco / 54 (1998), Entrapment / Thomas Crown Affair (1999), 10 Things I Hate About You / Hamlet (1999), Finding Nemo / Shark Tale (2004), Capote / Infamous (2006), The Prestige / The Illusionist (2006), Happy Feet / Surf’s Up (2006), Repo! The Genetic Opera / Repo Men (2010), Jobs / Steve Jobs (2013), Olympus Has Fallen / White House Down (2013), Elvis / Priscilla (2022). It doesn’t make a film any less original, per se, to have an almost identical version be made and released in near-tandem, it just makes both films more interesting to this viewer, and provides a glimpse into what was being discussed culturally at the time of each set of releases. For tonight’s exploration of Twin Films I’m taking us to church, and discussing two films that were conceived and unleashed during the height of the great Christian rebrand of 1970s, the new-age Jesus hippie revolution that produced The Living Bible (a No Fear, Shakespeare-esque slang version of the Bible) and tonight’s two, groovy, modern musical retellings of the life and “passion” of Jesus.
As with my discussion of Monty Python’s Life of Brian, I must preface these reviews with a disclaimer that I grew up as a half-assed Jew, and my only knowledge of the Bible comes from pop culture. So any inaccuracies or misrepresentations of this tale as old as time are not meant to be offensive or intentionally obtuse—for I know not what I do! These films are both musicals with little-to-no dialogue, they were both released in 1973, and they both feature a white Jesus with radical, totally tubular ideas. Let’s begin with my least favorite of the two selections, a very popular movie-musical with very little (intentional) comedic relief within its existentially dreadful, sonically-redundant story, this is Norman Jewison’s film adaptation of Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s hit musical Jesus Christ Superstar. Unfortunately, I do not have time to get into the complicated backstory behind this musical, how the producers considered Mick Jagger, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Barry Gibb, Robert Plant, and Ian Gillan for the titular role, or the socio-political implications of the fact that this film was shot entirely on location in the then-brand-new country of Israel, but I can assure you, the making of this film and the reception of it was fascinatingly fraught with issues (and I’m not just saying that because I hate Andrew Lloyd Webber.) As my mom pointed out, the Bible is famously full of violence, so it’s pretty wild that any telling of this story could be rated “G”, but that’s what this meta, melancholic, and messy adaptation gave us. This film immediately subverts your expectations of a Jesus story, as we witness a bus full of long-haired, colorfully-dressed hippies arriving in the desert, seemingly setting up an entire civilization with nothing but pots, pans, tapestries, instruments, guns, mirrors, and a giant cross. “This is hella Manson,” my sister remarked as she walked by, observing this rag-tag crew of disciples and followers landing in the desert along with Judas (Carl Anderson), Mary Magdalene (Yvonne Elliman), and Jesus, the alleged “superstar” himself (Ted Neely). Judas kicks it off for us, with a song about how Jesus has changed since he gained so many followers, anxiously belting out “you’ve started to believe the things they say about you, I don’t like what I see, they think they found a new messiah and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong.” Judas is disturbed by Jesus’ whole “son of god” narrative and how it’s overpowered his messages of social justice, which is fair. Where Judas begins to just sound bitter is in his shit-talking of Mary and her former profession, but Jesus just goes about his day, as Mary Magdalene and Jesus make googly eyes at one other. Meanwhile, temple priests led by Caiaphas (Bob Bingham) and Annas (Kurt Yaghjian), are afraid that Jesus’ popularity will undermine their authority and lead to conflict with their Roman occupiers, so they plan to have Jesus executed. As each song presented itself, sung technically well and danced impressively despite the undoubtedly miserable desert heat, I grew bored very quickly. But this is to be expected for this critic and Lloyd-Webber-hater, and the monotony and repetitiveness of each lyric should’ve been no surprise. “At least it’s not Cats”, I said as a mantra, as I experienced each drawn-out, overwrought song. Call me old-fashioned, but I like my musicals with catchy numbers, with more showtunes and upbeat group spectacles than bummer ballads, but Lloyd Webber is a bit of a bummer ballad man—a quality I can only blame on him being straight, but I digress. I didn’t mind listening to Carl Anderson or Yvonne Elliman sing, I didn’t hate the final number which features the most famous song, and I particularly loved King Herod’s (Josh Mostel) gluttonous-Hugh-Hefner-esque number about not being that impressed by Jesus. I enjoyed the colorful, flamboyant costuming which included armed guards donning purple tank tops, I enjoyed the bizarre juxtaposition of tanks and machine guns alongside togas and sandals, and I kinda loved the fact that Judas (whether intentionally or not) is the real main character here. I did not enjoy the redundant, lazy songwriting, the lack of a single catchy song, or Ted Neely’s Led Zepplin-esque style of singing, but, as I’ll say one, final time, Andrew Lloyd Webber is just not my cup of sacrament. Jesus Christ Superstar was visually interesting, narratively kooky, and for the time in which it was made, pretty radical. And, in it’s defense, it is not as bad Cats.
According to my research, 1972–1973 was a period of purportedly declining interest in religion worldwide, but it was also filled with a plethora of religious-themed movies, such as Jesus Christ Superstar, Gospel Road: A Story of Jesus, The Holy Mountain, Brother Sun, Sister Moon, Siddhartha, Greaser’s Palace, Marjoe, and even The Exorcist. I’m just an agnostic, kinda Jewish, reformed musical theater student who is picky about musicals, so for me to give a damn about a musical about Jesus, you gotta do some wild stuff. Jesus Christ Superstar was only slightly wild to this critic, and the same could be said for tonight’s next 1973-Jesus-Christ-musical-thru-a-groovy-lens film, but at least the songs here were much better—this is David Greene’s film adaptation of John-Michael Tebelak and Stephen Schwartz’ musical Godspell. Godspell, based on “the Gospel of Matthew”, opens on a chaotic and cacophonous New York City, where traffic jams and crowds are outta control, and the Twin Towers are still under construction. Suddenly, the voice of god bellows, “My name is Known: God and King. I am most in majesty, in whom no beginning may be and no end”, and John the Baptist strolls into the city, rolling a rainbow-colored wheelbarrow and shofar behind him. We then zoom in on a handful of busy New Yorkers, all caught-up in their day jobs—a waitress at a diner, a garment trader lugging a rack of clothes, a ballerina dancing, a model going to an audition, a taxi driver, a parking attendant, a student, and a woman window-shopping. They all spot this colorful, bearded gentleman roaming the streets, and they all suddenly drop what they’re doing and follow John to the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, where he baptizes them and clothes them in garments that look like they came from the set of Big Comfy Couch or Sarah Sherman’s closet. Suddenly, Jesus appears, and he’s once again played by a white guy, but at least he’s also a real-life Jew, gay icon Victor Garber. As if under a spell from god(…), this group of people follows Jesus to a scrapyard, where he declares he came not to “abolish the law and the prophets, but to complete.” Jesus explains to everyone that those who keep the law will earn the highest place in the Kingdom of Heaven, before the cast acts out some parables like the Pharisee and the Publican (about a self-righteous Pharisee who thanks god he is not like other men), and the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant (which tells of a master who cancels his servant’s debt). Unlike Jesus Christ Superstar, the Jesus in Godspell spends a good deal of time preaching and telling tales of morality—some of which I was familiar with, others not so much. A large portion of Godspell features the cast performing mini-plays of biblical stories, which were executed in a variety of silly ways with a variety of silly, makeshift props. As they detail each story, these theater kids really look like they’re having a ball, especially Jesus—who sports brightly-colored clown makeup which he paints on his disciples. I loved how intentionally funny this film was, how each song was different (and not agonizingly repetitive), and how the majority of this film showcases completely empty NYC streets, aside from our vibrant cast. New York is really their playground, and it is all is far more peaceful and joyful than I was expecting, until the expectedly-sorrowful third act kicks in and Judas shows up. In Godspell, Jesus feels more like an equal than a cult leader, the songs are jazzy and warm and compelling, and overall, I enjoyed this viewing experience far more than the one before it. I was charmed and tickled by the earnestness and energy on display here, and as wonderful as this film’s cast was (with passionate performances by David Haskell, Katie Hanley, Merrell Jackson, Joanne Jonas, Robin Lamont, Gilmer McCormick, Jeffrey Mylett, Jerry Sroka, and Lynne Thigpen), I would give anything to see the original Toronto cast of Godspell, which included Andrea Martin, Eugene Levy, Gilda Radner, and Martin Short. It was fun to watch a musical that means so much to my mom, it was fun to witness this sweet, uncomplicated, though sometimes confusing depiction of such an established story, and it was fun to see Victor Garber as Twink Jesus. As much as I poke fun at and criticize these films, there is no doubt that these two far-out portrayals of Jesus and his teachings are unique, refreshing, and far more progressive and open-minded than the average right-wing evangelical’s ideas. Coming at this from a Jesus-novice perspective, I may be incorrect, but I felt that both of these films sought to underscore the fact that no man is greater or more powerful than other men, not even Jesus himself. And in a time when greedy, oppressive zealots are louder than ever and the name of Christ is invoked often in such offensive and hateful ways, I’ll take hippy Jesus any day of the week. I don’t think these Jesus films are particularly dangerous or anti-Semitic (as some critics have proclaimed), but I do think they’re very, very funny, and just a tad bit twee considering how brutal the Bible (and the consequences of its followers’ zealousness) has historically been. Well, I suppose that’s enough groovy god-fearing for one week, and if you made it to the end of this review, bless you. Until next time, may peace and joy and good movies be upon you.
