The Book of Mormon
That’s not really the title I wanted to use, but couldn’t bring myself to title this “there are maggots in my scrotum”, one of the great lines from this afternoon’s play.
The Book of Mormon has been a smash hit for a couple of year now: it is coming to San Francisco and the entire run sold out in minutes. Even here in NYC, it remains sold out far in advance and the only way I got tickets was to buy them on StubHub at a significant premium.
If you are particular religious, or fastidious, or just plain prissy, don’t see this show. It is an equal opportunity offender, heretical in all directions. The bad guy is named General Butt Fucking Naked. Your great aunt Tilly might be a touch offended.
On the other hand, if you like this sort of thing you will never see it done any better. The cast is tremendous, specifically the female lead, Nikki James. She won a Tony for this role last year for good reason.
The writing is genius–from the twisted minds of Matt Stone and Trey Parker, the braintrust behind South Park, an animated comedy series now in its 16th season.
The Lion King brought us the phrase “hakuna matata”, no worries. The Book of Mormon brings us “Hasa diga eebowai”, fuck you God. The Lion King is nicer and sweeter and suitable for kids. The Book of Mormon is funnier and has some real meaning hidden within.
I guess I’m supposed to talk about the plot. Two Mormon kid set out on their mission, sent to Uganda for 2 years to proselytize. One is very straight and square, the other is a nerd who doesn’t fit in. The nerd succeeds, the straight one has a crisis of conscience, the natives are converted and there is a big finale. If I told you too much you would think you had seen it, and that would be wrong.
Hock your grandchildren, sell your wife’s jewelry, do what you have to in order to arrange tickets. This is not a musical to miss.