The Book of Mormon has been called the greatest stage musical of the 21st century, thanks to a years-long advertising campaign, nine Tony Awards and a cynical belief that no show satirizing the Mormon Church can be all bad.
Given how young the century is, that honor seems premature. What can be said with certainty is that this swift, raw, often riotous show is almost sinfully entertaining.
The national tour of The Book of Mormon arrived at the Stranahan Theater Tuesday night for a six-day run. Popular opinion brands it the must-see show of the year, but if you miss it you probably won’t go to hell.
The strength of this irreverent satire by South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone (along with Avenue Q co-creator Robert Lopez) is that it borrows musical conceits from any number of past stage hits — The Lion King, Rocky Horror Picture Show — and couches them in a plot that would have been banned in Boston, Des Moines, and Salt Lake City 50 years ago.
Theatrical convention has long held that religion should be celebrated in a pious way (think The Sound of Music), not taken for a joyride. Mormon throws out convention by focusing on Elders Price (Findlay native Gavin Creel) and Cunningham (Christopher John O’Neill), two fresh-faced young men being sent on their mission by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Price is the proverbial Golden Boy who dreams of being stationed near the Magic Kingdom in Orlando. Elder Cunningham is your classic nerd, an outlier endowed with the sloppy exuberance of a puppy.
They are like mismatched socks, suddenly paired together, and sent not to Florida, but to Uganda.
A couple of uptight white guys dropped into the AIDS-ravaged Dark Continent? That’s the first satirical smack down, as Parker and Stone lampoon the notion of Mormons —- any religion, really — saving the souls of a populace that would seem to have more pressing concerns.
Once abroad, the neophytes encounter some fellow elders who’ve had no luck baptizing the locals. Price is still shocked that he’s been sent to the Heart of Darkness. Elder Cunningham is happy to be anywhere but home with his smothering parents. And the rest of the gang — lead by peppy Elder McKinley (Peter Mitchell) — pivot between a fervor for their religious calling and a need suppress their physical desires and “Turn It Off.”
It’s one of several infectious songs that embody everything from traditional tap to tribal dances. Some of the titles and lyrics can’t be quoted in a family newspaper. Suffice it to say, those with deep conservative leanings might find a few of the tunes tantamount to cultural water boarding.
The Ugandan villagers are a feisty lot, led by the sweetly upbeat Nabulungi (Alexandra Ncube) who falls under the sway of the missionaries.
Critic’s Rating: 4 stars
What: The Book of Mormon
When: 7:30 p.m. today, 8 p.m. Friday, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturday, and 2 and 7:30 p.m. Sunday
Where: Stranahan Theater, 4645 Heatherdowns Blvd.
Tickets: $38 to $88 from the box office, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. weekdays and 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Saturday. Information: 419-381-8851 or stranahantheater.com.
Parents' guide: Mature subject matter and language. Appropriate for adult audiences.
Contact Mike Pearson at: mpearson@theblade.com or 419-724-6059
Not only do the natives deal with poverty and a plague, they face constant intimidation from a rebel general (Corey Jones) hellbent on circumcising the female villagers. Not a common occurrence in musicals.
By fusing so many controversial themes — religion, poverty, genital mutilation — with 1930s let’s-put-on-a-show production values, The Book of Mormon definitely crosses a line, but not in a bad way. Sure, the resolution here is as predictable as anything ever seen on Broadway, and despite their upbeat delivery, few of the songs will register the longevity of those from, say, Oklahoma.
Mostly this show succeeds on concept and execution. Creel and O’Neill (O’Neill is like that kid in middle school who stood too close in the lunch line and breathed on you) are the standout actors here, with a spirited assist from the giddily flamboyant Mitchell, and Ncube’s potent vocal chops. And if the plot isn’t exactly a love letter to Joseph Smith (missionaries aren’t allowed to question even the most basic tenets of their faith), neither is it a blistering indictment.
If per chance the plot doesn’t grab you, the energy level of this particular company surely will. They sing and dance and cavort at a frantic pace, helping to redeem a second act that can sometimes seem sluggish.
If you’ve seen South Park, Team America, Orgazmo, or anything else by Parker and Stone, you already know they don’t believe in sacred cows. So it is with The Book of Mormon which doesn’t so much laugh at God as at man’s routinely flawed interpretation of His will.
First Published December 18, 2014, 5:00 a.m.