THEATER REVIEW : ‘Superstar’: What Did They Sacrifice? : The misdirected ‘rock opera’ relies on nostalgia to carry the show.

G o, go, go, Jesus!

That doesn’t have quite the right ring to it, obviously, so Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 2-decade-old “Jesus Christ Superstar,” a tragedy at heart, isn’t quite so ripe for revival as “Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat.” The latter, accompanied by its “Go, go, go, Joseph!” pitch, is inherently better-suited to lick the problem of being similarly carbon-dated by positioning itself as a camped-up kids’ show.

Nor does “Superstar” have the gimmicky potential of some of Webber’s other musicals to sell itself as a special-effects bonanza--although, in place of the famous hanging chandelier of “Phantom,” it does offer the very impressive spectacle of a hanging Judas Iscariot.

How, then, to make a really relevant sale of “J.C.” to the ‘90s? There’s not much evidence that anyone involved with the touring production of the seminal “rock opera” now playing at the Universal Amphitheatre wasted too much quality time considering this equation. But to the extent that they have, the producers seem to have figured that the only way to treat a musical with refrains like “What’s the buzz, tell me what’s a-happenin’ ” is as a nostalgia piece for the boomer rock audience.

A certain amount of hokum is inherent in the piece at this late date, certainly. Still, a score this influential and this enduring deserved at least an attempt at imaginative staging. And it’s not at all clear how much this creaky “Superstar” owes its ‘70s-period-piece aura to deliberate nostalgia-mongering and how much that’s just a de facto product of its presenters’ outdated sensibilities. It’s an only minimally unthawed pop Eucharist.

The retro feel isn’t due just to the tie-die canopies and psychedelic light displays in and around the lobby. Ted Neeley and Carl Anderson, as Jesus and Judas, respectively, have been resurrected from the Broadway and movie versions of 1971-73. The good news--no pun intended--is that they neither look nor sound too long in the tunic for their parts twentysomething years later. (When that cross is lifted up near the end, it’s reassuring to find that Jesus hasn’t developed even the hint of a paunch.) They didn’t by any means transform the piece in Tuesday night’s opening, but they didn’t disappoint.

Anderson has the best, most dynamic part, of course. Judas is really the Everyman protagonist as well as the antagonist of the savior of the world in Tim Rice’s lyrics, which are generally ingeniously clever, if often sophomorically sacrilegious. For most of the show, in contrast, Jesus is a bit of a stiff, ascribable at least as much to the book (not to be confused with The Book) as Neeley’s underplaying.

Part of the original fun of “Superstar” was that, besides being the risible “Last Temptation” of its day, it had some seminal heavy-metal moments. Probably a lot of today’s musicians first grooved to the 40 bars of guitar noodling that made the 40 lashes a guilty pleasure. Jesus’ ravaging of the temple provided a good example for Nirvana’s instrument-smashing. And when Christ finally cuts loose a little and starts wailing at the Father he thinks has abandoned him in “Gethsemane,” it provided a lot of grist for future metal-head falsettos. Hitting all the high notes full force, Neeley does some splashy stunt-singing in this number, though you can’t help feeling this was the role Axl Rose was born to play.

The music isn’t as powerful at the Universal as it needs to be, though. (It rarely is compared to the original, pre-Broadway album that was “Superstar’s” purest form.) The 10-piece pit band never quite rocks out the way an old fan of Webber’s score might hope for on the riffier material--though “What’s the Buzz” is obligingly funky enough--and the synthesizers make a scrawny substitute indeed for real orchestral strings in the lusher stretches, which remain Webber’s most haunting themes.

Even less successful, with a couple of exceptions, is the look of the show. The apostles look like Robin Hood’s merry men, and leap about accordingly. When the high priests remark that “this common crowd is much too loud,” they might be speaking of the women’s colorful dresses. Judas is repeatedly tormented by three women in red who serve no function other than to imply that hell is full of Solid Gold dancers.

The director, Tony Christopher, is also the choreographer. And though one does hate to judge a man by his credits, having danced with Liza Minnelli and Cheryl Ladd, toured with “Godspell” and directed “The Adventures of Conan” at Universal Studios aren’t really the prerequisites likely to lead to a thoughtful rethinking of a show as difficult as this one. But then, as the venue might indicate, this production hardly seems aimed at the regular theatergoer.

The simplest moments are best, like the softly satirical “Could We Start Again, Please” as a simple candle-lighting vigil, or Judas’ suicide in front of a stark red screen. The crucifixion--combined, taking the usual extrabiblical license, with Jesus’ ascension--is garishly but effectively staged.

Rock singer Dennis DeYoung of Styx enjoys a decent turn as Pontius Pilate, and Leesa Richards (replacing the originally advertised Irene Cara) is a tender Mary Magdalene. But the show finally finds the courage of its own badness when Laurent Giroux whoops it up by playing King Herod as a sinister drag queen in an over-the-top style more apropos to “Rocky Horror Picture Show’s” Frank N. Furter, a sudden, unfortunate intrusion of attitude in a staging that theretofore hasn’t bothered with one. Shortly afterward, when Jesus murmurs, “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they’re doing,” it’s clear that no production ever had a better built-in epitaph.

* “Jesus Christ Superstar,” Universal Amphitheatre, Universal City, Tuesday-Sunday, 8:15 p.m., Saturday matinees 2:15 p.m., Sunday matinees 1:15 p.m. Ends June 6. $24.50-$34.50. (213) 480-3232. Running time: 2 hours, 20 minutes.