I Don’t Know How to Love Him: The Queer Tragedy of Jesus Christ Superstar

On the surface, Jesus Christ Superstar seems like an easy film to dismiss. It is a caravan of hippies wandering through the desert retelling the story of Jesus Christ. Too blasphemous for religious folks, too religious for anyone else, and on top of all that, it’s a musical. It exists in this wonderful and precise middle ground, which is exactly what draws me to the film. Growing up I have seen myself shift from one side to the other in terms of personal beliefs, but the one thing that never changed was my adoration for the 1973 film adaptation of Jesus Christ Superstar. 

Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice teamed up to bring the rock opera to life, focusing on a story from Christianity, the death and crucifixion of Jesus Christ. It enjoyed a prosperous Broadway run in 1971 before being adapted as a film. The adaptation was directed by Norman Jewison, a Canadian film director who has had other prevalent works such as Rollerball (1975), Moonstruck (1987), and In the Heat of Night (1967). In my opinion, the film has always been the best way to enjoy the musical. It has the best overall performances, the production design is groovy, and the natural landscape allows for these grandiose dance numbers to really sing. Most importantly, it possesses a sincere, handmade quality which is the most important factor for anything, but especially films.

There are a few reasons why this film has remained at the forefront of my life. Firstly, all of the songs are total earworms, staying with you for days or weeks on end. More importantly, there is a real and heartbreaking love story buried within the 35mm. We can never really be sure what draws us to a particular film, we can only hope to analyze the aspects that we enjoy. In my journey with the rock opera, I found something that I feel would resonate with me and hopefully countless others. The frightening realization that you may be in love with your best friend.

The great Carl Anderson took on the role of Judas Iscariot in the film. He was able to bring such vulnerability and frustration to a role that was designed for hate. In the Christian story, Judas is a disciple of Jesus, and is the one who betrays him and essentially sentences him to death. The film is no different; Judas is the one who betrays Jesus and sells out his location to the Pharisees (zealots who are concerned with staying in power). However, one of the major differences is the frustration Judas feels. In the Christian story, Judas betrays Jesus from a place of jealousy and malice, but that’s not the case in Jesus Christ Superstar. Judas is frustrated at Jesus because he feels like Jesus is being ripped away from him. He betrays Jesus because he feels it is the best-case scenario for him. In his mind he is not sentencing Jesus to death—he is removing him from the situation before Jesus can stir up any more trouble. Jesus is growing in popularity, thus drifting farther from Judas. 

Take for instance the lyrics of the opening track, “Heaven on Their Minds” which is my favorite song. Judas sings the opening track, which is vital for establishing the tone of the musical. One of the lines is, “I remember when this whole thing began. No talk of God then, we called you a man. And believe me, my admiration for you hasn't died.” Judas is conflicted with Jesus and his growing popularity, yet he still adores him. This notion is furthered in the song, “Strange Thing Mystifying,” which has Judas insulting Mary Magdalene, who is the closest thing Jesus has to a love interest in the film. The first line of the song is, “It seems to me a strange thing, mystifying, that a man like you can waste his time on women of her kind.” The thing that always struck me about this lyric is the line “a man like you.” Judas is speaking from a place of reverence, but he talks to Jesus differently than any of the other followers. He speaks more intimately. I have always understood this line as saying that Judas cannot believe Jesus is even pretending to be romantically interested in someone like Mary, and once you start examining the film through a queer lens, it all starts to make sense. Mary even has a whole song about how she loves Jesus, but she cannot figure out how to get him to love her. So, it makes sense that Judas would lash out at Mary because they are both vying for the same person, even though Jesus is never portrayed to be romantically interested in anyone throughout the film. Ted Neely, the actor that plays Jesus, really commits to portraying the character as distant, his sacrifice seemingly always at the forefront of his mind. Jesus is aware of what’s going to happen to him. He knows how the plot unfolds and he is frightened. There is no room for intimacy in Jesus’ life, there is only this predestined path. Judas simply doesn’t understand this, so he lashes out at Jesus for being distant and making choices that he believes are putting Jesus and his followers in danger. It’s reiterated in “Heaven on Their Minds” when he says, “Listen, Jesus, to the warning I give. Please remember that I want us to live. But it's sad to see our chances weakening with every hour. All your followers are blind. Too much heaven on their minds.”

Perhaps the most obvious example of a queer through-line is Carl Anderson’s performance during the betrayal of Jesus. It is the last interaction the two characters share (at least while they are alive). Judas has no reason to hide anymore, opting for a kiss as his weapon of betrayal. The way Carl Anderson portrays such tenderness, relief, and sadness is stellar and is one of the most under-appreciated film performances. The most pivotal scene of the entire film hinges on him, and he delivers. He is not sinister or jealous. Instead, he is understated and tender. After Judas kisses him, Jesus sings, “Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?” As Anderson pulls away from Neely, his eyes begin to water. It’s as if in one singular moment he received his wish for intimacy, while simultaneously realizing the cost of his actions. Throughout the rest of the scene he doesn’t say a word, he just slowly tries to remove himself from the situation, but he never takes his eyes off Jesus. It is this vulnerability and the visible realization that creates such a heartbreaking moment for the audience.

All of Judas’ frustration and confusion culminates in the song, “Judas’s Death.” The song begins with Judas running to the Pharisees in a tantrum, yelling at them for beating Jesus within an inch of his life. He is repeatedly saying how he would trade his own life if it meant he could save Jesus. Eventually, the Pharisees leave him and he is left there to wallow in his own decisions. The first moment he is alone he sings the line, “I don't know how to love him, I don't know why he moves me. He's a man, he's just a man.” In the line that follows, Anderson sings it with such anguish in his voice, “When I'm cold and dead, will he let me be? Does he love me? Does he love me too? Does he care for me?” I get goosebumps every time. 

Judas has concluded his his role in a story that was always intended to be bigger than him and his only concern is if Jesus will still love him. The filmmaking in the next moments is so electric because of Anderson. We see him running along gorgeous natural landscapes, screaming to God, asking why he was chosen for this “foul, bloody crime.” Eventually, he arrives at a tree on top of a hill, which is where he ultimately chooses to end his own life, repeatedly wailing, “You have murdered me.” He didn’t know why he was in love with Jesus, because none of us ever know why we are in love. Judas fell in love with his best friend and ended up inadvertently killing him, and the only way he can justify this to himself is by saying that he was a pawn in a larger story. 

Everything Judas did was in service of Jesus’ story, but there is never one single story in life. There are no protagonists and antagonists, there is only us and who we choose to be. Judas was a person who was frightened by the love and affection he felt for his best friend, and he is a person who made decisions that he believed would be beneficial yet, ultimately, were detrimental. Through Carl Anderson, we can see the unjust nature of love. Through his wonderfully subdued and tender performance, we find a frustrated and flawed person who is trying to understand their feelings.