Christopher Gray on a noisy night in the New Theatre stalls for a rousing rendition of Jesus Christ Superstar

Mary Magdalene asks whether she should scream and shout “and let my feelings out” in the loveliest and best-known song from Jesus Christ Superstar.

Rachel Adedeji, who takes on the role at the New Theatre this week, happily resists the temptation, however, and offers an interpretation of the music marked by a touching tenderness and dignified restraint.

The same, alas, cannot be said for other principal performers in this ‘in yer face’ revival of Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s sung-through musical under directors Bob Tomson and Bill Kenwright.

My perception of being yelled at from the stage began as soon as Tim Rogers opened his mouth in the key role of Judas Iscariot. Glenn Carter’s Jesus, who soon joined him, was clearly out to prove himself a match in volume.

But perhaps we should not be surprised at this, for the show is emphatically a product of the 1970s when restraint in any area was left at the door.

Wailing guitars and belting vocals were de rigueur during the decade that taste forgot. Each element is amply supplied in the ground-breaking score. Let us not forget, too, that the prototype Christ, on the best-selling album that preceded the show’s arrival on stage, was Ian Gillan of heavy metal pioneers Deep Purple.

The blockbuster stage production entered new territory not only musically but also in terms of content.

We should remember how controversial it once was to use religion to entertain. Evangelist Billy Graham was not alone in condemning the show. The graphic scene on Calvary, with the Roman soldiers hammering nails into Christ’s hands and feet, remains a tough call for members of the audience, as does the scourging (39 lashes) that precedes it.

The emotional heft of the action cannot be denied, however. A young woman in front of me in the stalls was wracked with sobs throughout the closing episodes. Musical director Tim Whiting and his band deliver the score with commendable vigour. Vocal performances, besides those already mentioned, include a fine turn from Johnathan Tweedie as a coldly effete Pontius Pilate. Tom Gilling shows us a comically camp King Herod reminiscent in some ways – size especially – of the seventies drag star Divine.

4/5