'Godspell' innocence is up against today's war footing

By Joseph T. Rozmiarek
Advertiser Drama Critic

Christ (Chris Veatch, seen here in a rehearsal of the play) is surrounded by demons in a "Godspell" scene. Advertiser library photo

Especially when director and choreographer Brad Powell chooses to open it with prolonged video footage of the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center. Also because it's performed on a military base while troops are poised on the brink of a war overseas.

An on- and off-Broadway success 30 years ago, "Godspell" is loosely based on the gospel of St. Matthew and features the songs "Day by Day," "Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord" and "Save the People." Act One is filled with parables. Act Two centers on Jesus' crucifixion.

But it's a contemporary retelling, taking place in a New York junkyard where John the Baptist (Elitei Tatafu Jr.) summons up ragtag street people to prepare for their savior's arrival by baptizing them with a squirt gun. Jesus (Chris Veatch) arrives and gathers the group into a commune of performance artists who recreate Bible stories through theater games.

Veatch and Tatafu sing and act with conviction, and Powell softens the clownish aspects that are often used in the show. Veatch takes calm possession of the central character, making Jesus a focal point, but keeping him purposefully distanced. Jenny Kimura solos nicely on "Day By Day" and the cast does good ensemble work. Lina Jeong Doo's small instrumental combo is well balanced against the singers, and the ACT staff seems to have finally conquered the quirks in the sound system.

Songs become the centerpiece of the first act, liberally supported with comedy, dance, mime and slapstick. (The Marx Brothers and the Three Stooges are prominently featured.) There's a game of charades in response to the question "if a man sues you for your shirt?" and the parable of the Good Samaritan is done with finger puppets.

But this gives a stop and start quality to the first part of the show, which plays a long 90 minutes. The audience is invited on stage during the intermission to share paper cups of wine, but at least some of us decided to skip the crucifixion and call it an early night.

You can't fault the message. "Godspell" promotes joy and love over sadness and fear. It argues for forgiveness and tolerance.

But Powell's staging jams it up against images of collapsing skyscrapers and stunned firefighters, making it extremely difficult to "turn the other cheek." And the twentysomethings in the cast who are trying to capture the childlike wonder of born-again flower children are only yards away from their even younger counterparts in camouflage uniforms, grimly carrying out heightened security procedures outside the theater.

Granted, when it was new, "Godspell" played out against the reality of the war in Vietnam. For anyone who lived through that period, however, 1970s naiveté no longer applies to either alternative, and willing acceptance of that naivetŽ is absolutely essential to the production's success. ("Unless you become as little children. ...") Sadly, neither the cast nor the audience seems able to capture the required mental state.

Today, most of us are working to integrate disparate images and messages into a personal moral path. In this context, the unsullied conviction of "Godspell" feels out of tune with a complex reality that seems not to allow much room for innocence.