G.T.C.’S TENT-REVIVAL “GODSPELL” WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A WORD WITH AMERICA.
No recent production on Memphis stages has consumed this reviewer with more fire and brimstone than the “Godspell” revival running through March 15 at Germantown Community Theatre.
And that’s saying something given the slate of recent shows intended to prick the conscience. There was New Moon’s “The Revolutionists,” about four exceptional women dangerously collaborating in a political maelstrom. There was Voices of the South’s “The Dry Spell,” which poetically examined trans-ness. Playhouse’s “Jagged Little Pill” and “Job” dedicated fierce energy to subjects such as addiction, identity and the dangers of technology.
So, perhaps it’s a little far-fetched or slightly ridiculous to assert that a 55-year-old church camp musical full of Bible stories just might be the hardest-hitting―and unexpectedly politicized―title among the lot. As audience members dab away tears or make a joyful noise unto the Lord, one can only presume to know how the spirits move them; we all bring our own baggage to this familiar subject matter. But “Godspell’s” well-worn way of unpacking of our personal effects is, in light of current events, both strangely cathartic and painful.
As Nathan McHenry’s friendly, relatable Jesus leads the congregation through a musical crash course in New Testament parables, some old mandates, like “love thy neighbor,” find us rooting for that second coming. After all, our Judeo-Christian bombs just killed a bunch of schoolchildren in Iran. From the Epstein files, to the murder of American citizens in the streets, to the hunting and deportation of undocumented immigrants without due process, to the onslaught of prevarications and moral turpitude of our country’s leadership, it is a struggle to separate Jesus from his apocalyptic fanbase.
That a work of musical theater makes a stronger case for Christian values than those who would pin the Ten Commandments to classroom walls should be deeply disturbing to Christians and non-Christians alike.
The last thing many who fear a toxic theological takeover of our democracy might wish for is the prospect of a new revivalism. So it is with some apprehension that we enter the small suburban auditorium to find ourselves seated at an old-fashioned tent revival. As the lights dim, a bearded evangelist with a Southern accent (Joe Johnson) quietly arranges his pulpit before enjoining us to “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.”
“Godspell” typically tries to distance itself from “The Church.” Theater companies set its anti-establishment gospel message in junkyards, coffeehouses, back alleys, playgrounds, hospitals, etc. You know, places that might be considered outreach. Maybe putting it back into a church is the boldest statement scenery can make here.
If director Jaclyn Suffel intended a sly rebuke of modern religiosity, there’s no heavy-handedness in the staging itself. Whatever one’s personal takeaway from her “Godspell” (my cynicism, my review!), it is a product of the show’s guileless sincerety and heartwarming gentleness. A broken fourth wall unites audience and ensemble in joyful worship. Even when a storm rages beyond the tent flaps, a symbol of the trials to come, our shelter feels like a haven.
Suffel’s charming cast would be right at home in any church fellowship group or Sunday school class. The jug band instruments that fill the stage―a tinny piano, guitars, fiddles, a mandolin, a banjo, an upright bass, a harmonica, handheld percussion, and clever brass cameos―are playfully passed around or taken up as if the songs were improvised on the spot, divinely inspired. The actor-musicians infuse the familiar tunes with a homespun, folksy gusto. Under McHenry’s musical direction, the voices eschew musical theater polish for earnest folk-style harmonizing. Among the most achingly spiritual songs written for the stage is this show’s arrangement of “All Good Gifts.”
“We thank thee then, O Father, for all things bright and good,
The seedtime and the harvest, our life our health our food,
No gifts have we to offer for all thy love imparts
But that which thou desirest, our humble thankful hearts!”
The humble decency and wholesome thanksgiving emanating from this theatrical pulpit convey a timelessness and, yet, an urgency, that feels supernaturally relevant. It indeed “revives” something in the soul that may be wilting in our arid moral climate.
It’s worth keeping in mind that “Godspell” premiered at time in American history with many analogs to today – a dissolute president was in office, war raged in Vietnam, federal troops had just murdered protesters at Kent State and fundamentalists were flexing their political muscles. Later that year―also in 1971―the story of Jesus was again resurrected in the rock opera “Jesus Christ Superstar” (which, coincidentally, will be on the POTS stage later next month). They are companion pieces in a sense, representing a kind of collective effort by artists, by the counterculture, by discouraged youth, by humanitarians, to reclaim and redeem a politically hijacked text. What was Jesus about if not unconditional love?
In the end of “Godspell” and “Jesus Christ Superstar,” a guiltless, immaculate man is crucified for encouraging people to be nice. To love unconditionally. To shun ostentatious piety. To welcome strangers. To feed and clothe the poor. To forgive completely.
Does one leave this production of “Godspell” weeping for a slain Messiah or weeping because the Pharisees are winning the PR campaign for control of his legacy? Our complicated reactions to this sweet little piece of theater, I think, speak to the crux of not only current frustrations with Christianity in America, but the ongoing debate over the Bible’s usefulness in civic life beyond beating one’s enemies over the head with it. ✑ C.B.