Introduction
There is a certain comfort, in the face of instability and uncertainty, in old stories. They offer us a familiar path and a familiar destination, and companions for the journey that we have known well for many years. And yet despite the familiarity of these stories, they remain both magical and surprising to us, continually drawing in new audiences with fresh retellings of the foundational narrative. Biblical stories in particular have proven to be especially useful starting points for creators across the millennia, constantly captivating something within us that speaks to our capacity for wonder and hunger to find our place and purpose amongst an oftentimes troublesome world. These stories have been reworked, expanded, and seen from new perspectives time and time again, and yet each additional adaptation never truly feels “old”.
            Rita Felski proposes that this continual newness of old texts, their ability to continually surprise and enthrall us across time and space, is part of a cycle in which old texts become routine and through the use of new storytelling techniques, they once again regain the level of impact they had on their original audience (115). As much as humanity may change over time, there are constants that remain in our perceptions of stories that keep us coming back. As we find new ways to tell these stories, we reinvigorate that initial sense of affect. Felski’s work brings up two important affects often disregarded by literary critics: enchantment and shock. Whereas other scholars would focus on pulling apart elements of a text to unpack and examine its meaning, Felski offers a more holistic view of literary analysis that addresses not just the concrete pieces but the emotional effect that the text has on the characters within it as well as the audience experiencing it. Through the lens of affect, we are able to more fully examine the personal impact of various texts, especially those founded in ancient traditions.
            In 1971, two new musicals hit the Broadway sphere that rattled the world of both theater and religion with their previously unseen depictions of the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar both shocked and enchanted audiences and continue to do so fifty years later through films, revivals, albums, tours, and community productions. But why? What is it about these shows that at one point grasped our attention so violently, and how have they leveraged a two thousand year old story in such a way that we can’t help but continue to feel deeply moved by it? While much scholarship has been devoted to these shows’ theatrical legacy and history, little has been done to examine them in any literary sense[1], and that is the primary focus that I would like to take with these texts. As much as I’ve thoroughly enjoyed studying the legacies of the shows over the course of many years, I still believe that there is more for us to explore within the stories being told. Through these texts and this lens of affect, we are able to ask what can we learn by surrendering to our continued enchantment and shock, and most importantly, what do we lose by disregarding it?
 
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Enchantment
All theater, and by extension, all fiction, requires us to engage in a “willing suspension of disbelief,” the act of pretending that we do not know that what we’re seeing is fiction, pretending instead that it is reality. Felski proposes that modern enchantment exists in a state of double consciousness, both knowing that the experience is fiction but also allowing ourselves to feel as though it is real, a sentiment that lines up almost exactly with the suspension of disbelief (74-75). Enchantment walks a fine line between the sinister and innocent, especially when religious themes are the forces driving it, but as an aspect of the suspension of disbelief, it requires much more cooperation on the audience’s part. Roger Grainger writes of this as an act of trust and cooperation between audience and storyteller:
            We ourselves must wish to transform a record of events which never took place[5], delivered by someone whose intention is to deceive us unto [sic] thinking that they did… into something which in some way or other may affect the way we think and feel about ourselves and our relationship with the world we live in. (11)
With this framework, we can see that the type of enchantment present in theater doesn’t just happen on its own but requires an autonomous choice on the part of the audience to participate. Both shows engage in various creative ways of inviting both the audience and characters to share in the enchantment of the stories being told, and we will see how each must go about that mission convincingly enough that everybody present is engaged in the events as they unfold.
 
Godspell. The founding premise of Godspell rests on the basis of enchantment, both in film and on the stage. Some aspects of both the stage show and the movie fundamentally don’t make sense, but without being fully swept up in the head clown’s charisma and leadership, we cannot come to fully engage with, understand, and love the community forming in front of our eyes, and we cannot acutely feel Jesus’ loss at the end of the show. We must love first to properly lose. And admittedly, this is a hurdle. Godspell offers a kind of Jesus that rarely appears in our mainstream churches. Christianity largely has a habit of turning Jesus into a stoic, austere, almighty figure too far away from our existence to connect with. He has pristine robes and a golden halo immortalized in stained glass cathedrals that look down on us from on high. He is the image of unreachable, untouchable Holiness.
            But Godspell tackles this hurdle headfirst, asking us to consider what if holiness was something else? What if we found holiness in play? What if holiness were found in a worn down t-shirt and too-short pants? What if holiness knelt down on your level, held your hand, and looked into your eyes? Godspell takes the stained glass cathedrals of America, turns them to rubble, and builds a child’s fort out of the ruins. In the director’s notes, Jesus is always described as “charismatic and high energy, yet gentle and loving” (“Godspell”, Music Theatre International). He has the ability to initiate a skit and push for that playfulness while also keeping control over the situation. He doesn’t demand to be the center of attention, but people are naturally drawn to him. Despite being surrounded by a troupe of nine, he has a close, distinct relationship with each actor. It’s a deceptively difficult line to tread, but done well the effect is extraordinary. Wollman notes that this Jesus is “less a God than a cherished friend” (88). This personality allows for an intimacy between Jesus and his disciples (and by extension, the audience) that forms the basis of Godspell and brings us a new kind of Jesus, ultimately more personable and human than the one portrayed in crucifixes and stained glass windows of mainline Christianity. This is a Jesus with the power to enchant, and so he does.
            Godspell’s enchantment goes far beyond the central figure himself. Every aspect of its staging works to bring audiences as close to the action as possible. Felski describes enchantment as “a state of intense involvement, a sense of being so entirely caught up in an aesthetic object that nothing else seems to matter” where there is “no longer a sharp line between self and text but a confused and inchoate intermingling” (54). Godspell as a stage show functions in a way where there is no distinct line between audience and cast. While the cast doesn’t often directly speak with the audience as in improv shows, there is a constant sense that the characters know the audience is there. In fact, during the intermission, Jesus traditionally invites the audience on stage to share refreshments with the cast, effectively shattering the fourth wall and blurring the line between cast and audience.
            The Godspell film faced greater challenges in attempting to evoke similar types of enchantment as the intimate, low-budget stage play. With the barrier of a screen, the fourth wall was much more firm and the experience less personal for those watching it. However, it came up with a number of creative solutions to make the transition smoother.
            In the film, the opening number, “Tower of Babble[6],” is replaced with a scene that sets us in Manhattan, 1972. We find Jerry, Merrell, Katie, Robin, Joanne, Lynne, Jeffrey, and Gilmer swept up in the least enchanting thing imaginable: daily life. As each of them goes about the hustle and bustle of the city, many clearly unenthused with their activities, they see John. He appears just long enough for them to catch a glimpse of him before magically disappearing again, leaving each to shake their head and wonder if they really just saw what they saw (00:06:12-00:07:27). John’s appearance is a glimmer of whimsy peeking through the “rabble babble” of New York. Instead of philosophers vying for our attention in the opening moments as in “Tower of Babble”, it’s the city itself and everything that comes with modern life that’s overwhelming the characters and making it difficult to be their most loving and generous selves to others.
            The choice to set the opening in modern day Manhattan evokes a paradoxical sense of enchantment. Tebelak noted that they chose to set the film in New York because it was such a cultural hub that it was like a stand-in for the whole world on one island (“The Filming of Godspell”). While New York has always had a reputation for its supposed culture and glamor, it also held a certain reputation for crime and debauchery in the 1970s. “White flight” became a rampant phenomenon as wealthy white families fled the inner-city for the suburbs, and behind the scenes corruption in New York politics led to intense debt for the city in the later 70s (“NYC in Chaos”). As the characters romp around some of Manhattan’s most iconic locations as though it were their own personal playground, we are continually reminded of the less glamorous aspects of New York through visible graffiti and stray garbage lingering in the background. In this sense, Godspell also served to re-enchant the city for many viewers who may have seen it only as an image of its poor reputation. The delight that the characters bring to each location and their use of the natural architecture helps the audience see the possibility that beauty can exist amongst the rough patches of the world.
            After appearing to all eight soon-to-be disciples, we hear John’s horn blow and his voice echo across the city announcing the “Prepare Ye” opening number, something that seemingly nobody else in the city is able to hear. A glassy look comes over the characters’ eyes as they abandon everything and begin running towards Central Park. As they pass through the city crowds, they don’t look at anything or anyone else (00:07:27-00:08:21). They are each singularly transfixed on moving towards John the Baptist, and ultimately, Jesus. Similarly to how the audience would feel transfixed in the stage show, these characters stand in for us as they are brought into the world of the film. None of them know who’s calling them, or why, or to where, but they go. The scene calls to mind verses from the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke in which Jesus is gathering his disciples and asks several fishermen to drop their nets and follow him (Matt. 4:18-22; Mark 1:16-20; Luke 5:2-11). In Godspell, the characters drop everything immediately to follow Jesus. At this point, I don’t think you can call it trust or faith. They have nobody to trust and nothing to have faith in yet. They just hear a call and know they have to follow it, and they follow that call all the way into Bethesda Fountain in broad daylight to be baptized. They are nothing if not enchanted, and through their enchantment, we become similarly affected.
            The final piece of Godspell’s enchantment comes through when Jesus is finally baptized and we find that New York has become deserted[7]. The only people that remain are the 10 clowns; it’s as though they’ve entered into a new dimension—an alternate, enchanting New York existing parallel to the populated one from which the characters came[8]. In that sense, the whole city becomes the stage, and they take full advantage of it. From scaling the Accutron sign in Times Square, to dancing atop the unfinished World Trade Center, the characters end up in all sorts of magical places the typical audience wouldn’t be able to. The desertedness is never acknowledged or explained, but it doesn’t have to be. With all that’s been seen so far, enchantment has already taken over and the fantasy of Godspell has begun.

 
Works Cited
Bial, Henry. “Jesus Christ, Broadway Star.” Playing God: The Bible on the Broadway Stage, University of Michigan Press, 2015, pp. 141-173. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.3998/mpub.7427158.10. Accessed 28 Oct. 2021.

The Bible. New Revised Standard Version, Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America, 1989.

Curry, Patrick. "The Experience of Enchantment and the Sense of Wonder." Green Letters, vol. ahead-of-print, no. ahead-of-print, 2021, pp. 1-15. CrossRef, http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/14688417.2021.1928530. Accessed 28 Oct. 2021.

Felski, Rita. Uses of Literature. Blackwell, 2008.

“The Filming of Godspell (1973) Part 1/3” YouTube, uploaded by PatchesAndFacePaint, 24 June 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9DOfwCCh2w.

Godspell. Directed by David Greene, screenplay by David Greene and John-Michael Tebelak, music and new lyrics by Stephen Schwartz, Columbia Pictures, 1973.

“Godspell.” Music Theatre International, https://www.mtishows.com/godspell. Accessed 15 Nov. 2021.

"Godspell Songs.” StephenScwartz.com, 2010, p. 9, http://stephenschwartz.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/Godspell-Songs.pdf. Accessed 9 November 2021.

“Godspell Notes for Directors, Music Directors and Musicians, Producers.”StephenSchwartz.com, 2010, p.6, https://stephenschwartz.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/Godspell_Notes_for_Directors_and_Musicians.pdf. Accessed 9 November 2021.

“Interview with Andrew Lloyd Webber - UK Arena Tour | Jesus Christ Superstar.” YouTube, uploaded by Jesus Christ Superstar, 11 Nov. 2015. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFZFQPQX8Mc. Accessed 20 Nov. 2021.

Jesus Christ Superstar (Live Arena Tour). Directed for the stage by Laurence Connors, directed for film by Nick Morris, composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber, lyrics by Tim Rice, Universal Pictures Home Entertainment, 2012. DVD.

Laird, Paul R. “The Fascinating Moment of Godspell: Its Cinematic Adaptation in the Shadow of Jesus Christ Superstar and Leonard Bernstein’s Mass.” The Oxford Handbook of Musical Theatre Screen Adaptations, edited by Dominic McHugh, Oxford UP, 2019.

Miller, Scott. “Jesus Christ Superstar.” Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll, and Musicals. University Press of New England, 2011. “NYC in Chaos.” PBS American Experience. https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/blackout-gallery/. Accessed 15 November 2021.

Wollman, Elizabeth L. The Theater Will Rock: A History of the Rock Musical, from Hair to Hedwig. University of Michigan Press, 2006.
 
Notes
[1] There are several exceptions, most notably Scott Miller’s chapter on Superstar in Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll, and Musicals.
[2] Tebelak was devoutly Episcopalian (Bial 158), Schwartz grew up “culturally Jewish” (Bial 158), and Lloyd Webber and Rice both were “well-coached in the mechanics of Chrisianity…” as children (Wollman 95). While not completely unbiased in their presentations of Jesus, their focus remains entirely on Jesus the person, not Jesus the God.
[3] Wollman has noted that many of the issues with the original Broadway production of Jesus Christ Superstar came with the technological constraints of the time. Many Broadway theaters were not outfitted with sound systems capable of handling the hard rock score and voices, and the corded microphones required onstage to allow actors to be heard over the sound of the band were clunky and awkwardly disguised (100-102). Its mixed reception has also been credited to director Tim O’Horgan’s somewhat outlandish staging (Miller 93, Wollman 97-99).
[4] For instance, Pontius Pilate in the 2000 film is portrayed as a Nazi-esque general amongst a group of late-90s disciples, while in the 2012 version he is a contemporary British judge. Likewise, the Pharisees in previous versions have all been vaguely religious leaders, while the arena tour chose to make them corporate executives.
[5] In the case of Godspell and Superstar, the line between history and fantasy is a matter of debate, but the general sentiment still stands.
[6] This is a play on the Tower of Babel story from the Book of Genesis in which humanity attempts to build a tower that could reach heaven. In response, God causes them all to begin speaking different languages and scatters them across the world (New Revised Standard Version, Genesis 11:1-9).
[7] Schwartz said that this choice was to counter the awkwardness of movie musicals wherein people in regular settings start singing for seemingly no reason (“The Filming of Godspell”).
[8] See Curry, especially 6, on more about the enchantment of time and dimension.