THE show ends in awed silence.

We dab away tears. Applause and cheering erupt. As we turn to leave, encore-less by design, we see dozens of the audience’s high percentage of youngsters texting.

“Gr8 – u gotta c it 2” was the instant verdict. But a more honest tweet might be: “Go 4 it, tho take torch to read synopsis so u no wot t hell is hppning.”

For Darlington Operatic Society’s brave production of Lloyd Webber’s 1970 dark rock opera falls foul – grievously in act one – because of his veto on linking dialogue.

As Tim Rice’s angry lyrics can rarely be made out through the volcanic amplification of tortured electric guitar, only theology graduates can decipher the early scene-setting for the climactic tragedy of the New Testament.

Rice’s gospels are anyway famously banal (“Well done Judas! Good Old Judas!”), as in classical opera, where English sur-titles give the lie to the perceived profundity of the Italian.

Act two, though, on more familiar holy ground, is often stunning. Symbolism is more powerful, blasphemy bolder, brutality beastlier, pastiches more outrageous. These last include sexy oriental oscillation, cabaret chair-cavorting à la Sally Bowles and, triumphantly, the title-number in shimmering overdrive.

Director Scott St Martyn’s blazingly lit Crucifixion, with hydraulic elevation, electrifies.

The large cast, impressively organised for mass outpourings and mayhem (the insistent Crucify Him! choral chant is in the Carmina Burana league), is excellent.

Especially strong performances are by Neil Harland, an ungentle Jesus; Matthew McCabe, a loud, combative Judas; and Julian Pound, who plays Pilate as an impressive man. Zoe Kent, as a Mary Magadalene whose relationship with Jesus, the director insists, is not meant to be as ambiguous as we infer, sings superbly – but then she has the best tunes.

Peter Ridley