‘The Passion’: Jesus’ Final Hours as Halftime Show

On the seventh day, Fox didn’t rest. It took the greatest story ever told and turned it into a halftime show.

The network’s semi-live, semireligious musical pageant “The Passion” on Sunday night recalled a lot of modern television spectacles meant to circumvent the DVR — Super Bowl halftimes, “American Idol,” New Year’s Eve broadcasts. And every time poor Trisha Yearwood had to stand up in the New Orleans twilight and sing a song she wasn’t really suited for, it recalled nothing so much as a shopping mall grand opening.

Like “Idol” (the final episodes of which were relentlessly promoted during the two-hour show) and other reality and music formats, “The Passion” originated in Europe, specifically Britain and the Netherlands. There, its structure — a live, modern retelling of the Passion of Christ built around contemporary pop songs, paired with a procession carrying a large cross along a route ending at the production’s stage — could claim some distant familial connection with the medieval passion plays.

Not so in New Orleans, where the slick, relatively gaffe-free broadcast was designed not to arouse any unruly emotions or to offend any particular religious sensibilities. The script written for the host and narrator, Tyler Perry, included some attempts to cast the city’s post-Hurricane Katrina history as a resurrection, but it was notable mostly for the wooden, studiously neutral way it told the story of Christ’s last days. (“Welcome back to ‘The Passion’ and a pivotal moment, the trial of Jesus.”) Matthew, Mark, Luke and John had nothing to worry about.

The oddly bifurcated production featured prerecorded music videos — in which singers including Jencarlos Canela as Jesus and Chris Daughtry as Judas acted out the story of Christ’s betrayal and death — mixed with live segments on a shiny white stage featuring Mr. Perry’s narration and Ms. Yearwood’s five numbers as Mary. The songs, mostly pop-rock ballads by artists like Train, Imagine Dragons and Hoobastank, demonstrated that generic love and breakup lyrics can be adapted to almost any circumstance, even to describe Christ’s pain on the cross (which was also graphically described by Mr. Perry, in one of the show’s stranger moments).

Occasionally a lyric needed to be dropped or amended, as in the hilariously incongruous “We Don’t Need Another Hero,” sung by Mr. Canela and Seal (as Pontius Pilate), when Tina Turner’s “beyond the Thunderdome” became “beyond the life we know.” Seal, who was the only performer to project any real charisma, sang a second song, Tears for Fears’ “Mad World.” One musical number stood out: Rodgers and Hammerstein’s 1945 showstopper “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” which got a loud response from the live audience even though Ms. Yearwood’s voice wasn’t nearly big enough for it.

Around the music, meanwhile, the show maintained its rally-like atmosphere. A field correspondent (Nischelle Turner) reported peppily from the cross-bearing procession, and when Mr. Perry got to stretch out a little, talking about sacrifice and resurrection, the crowd began punctuating his narration with cheers. The broadcast achieved its one theatrical coup at the end, when Mr. Canela appeared on the roof of a nearby Westin (other institutional product placements included a Marriott and the Steamboat Natchez) to sing Katy Perry’s “Unconditionally.” This inspired what may have been the one really genuine moment, when the audience members pulled out cellphones to record the rooftop scene, just as they would if the resurrection happened today.

If “The Passion” catches on, perhaps it will become the way new generations learn about the biblical story, serving a function previously filled by Hollywood films starring Charlton Heston. Of course, those studio epics are still being made, as a commercial for the “Ben-Hur” remake with Morgan Freeman proved. The advertising load included a number of faith-related items, though in one of the evening’s most refreshing moments, it also included a Verizon spot featuring the outspokenly, hilariously atheistic Ricky Gervais.

After all the bland, packaged uplift, the show ended with the cast onstage clapping along to a number that actually embodied both the religious message and the particular setting of the evening, Yolanda Adams’s spirited rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In,” backed by the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. Finally, some passion.