SHOW BUSINESS

The Gold Rush to Golgotha

Depending on how one looked at them, the happenings in and around Manhattan's Mark Hellinger Theater last week would have confuted the claims of Jesus, or confirmed the dark suspicions of

Oswald Spengler, who liked to think that the twilight of Western civilization will be marked not by true religion, but by an upsurge of fervid religiosity. Jesus Christ Superstar, the rock opera that is rocking Broadway's new season, is show biz with a twist: Director Tom O'Horgan, who was influenced by Olsen & Johnson, has made it into a sort of Heavenzapoppin.

Inside the theater, a white-robed, rock-age Jesus Christ now strides barefoot. He arrives onstage most phallically, rising like a glittering crocus out of a chalice that somewhat resembles those silver bowls in which hotels serve grapefruit. He departs crucified on a Daliesque golden triangle that is slowly projected toward the audience by a hidden cherrypicker lift. In Jesus' company come a sweetly sensuous, cheek-kissing Mary Magdalene, a quintet of Jewish high priests who call for a "final solution" to their Jesus problem, and King Herod--a queen in full drag. There is also the traitor Judas, played by a black whose considerable talent and limitless energy sometimes upstage Jesus. Clad in silver jockey shorts, Judas returns from the dead on a butterfly-winged acrobatic bar to ask the doomed Jesus "Why you let the things you did get so out of hand?"

Outside the Mark Hellinger, police patrolled the sidewalk at curtain time on opening night while pickets marched in protest. Queues of buses continue to disgorge paying customers who have bought seats in blocks: suburban klatsches of all sorts, whole schoolfuls of children, and Protestant, Catholic and Jewish lay groups, many of whom have heard Jesus Christ Superstar on records at church or temple. Simultaneously, religious groups, often from the same denominations as those flocking inside, proclaim outrage at the show. YOU'VE GOT YOUR STORY TWISTED! JESUS IS THE LORD.

Such comments, and the attendant controversy, have had the inevitable result. Almost overnight they guaranteed that Jesus Christ Superstar, already jingling along three days after its opening with one of the largest ($1.2 million) advance sales in Broadway history, will become the one show of the season that must be seen to be believed--or doubted. Superstar tickets cost $60 a pair from your friendly scalper.

A Return to Basics

Close to 1,000,000 copies of Erich Segal's hardcover book are in print. Love Story is still number one on the bestseller list--while a 95-c- edition is the top-selling paperback. Now comes the celluloid version, manipulating audiences with contrived bathos. No wonder Love Story has enjoyed the largest opening-week grosses in the history of American cinema. No wonder that on Christmas Day, when it opened across the country, the movie broke the house record in 159 of 165 locations. In three days it earned $2,463,916--more than it cost to make.

Ryan O'Neal does an admirable job of acting, but Ali MacGraw may have performed a miracle for Hollywood. She is an echo of a time when Celluloid City really was the dream factory. For Tinsel Town, she represents not only an irretrievable past but a plausible future. To moviemakers, she is the Girl Who Made Love Story Happen after six major studios had turned it down--the actress who was moved, she says, by the script's "straight, basic, clean emotion." She is today's closest approximation of the old-style star, with the Beverly Hills mansion, the marriage to the industry and the chance to become very, very rich. This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.