Possibly one of the most controversial, yet wildly successful musicals ever on the West End, The Book of Mormon pulls no punches as it high-kicks its way through every conceivable taboo.
Pulls no punches as it high-kicks its way through every conceivable taboo
Two missionaries fresh from training are sent to Uganda to convert the locals. Elder Price is a devout valedictorian type who actually wanted to be sent to Orlando. He is paired with Elder Cunningham, a nerdy compulsive liar with an obsession for pop culture. On arrival in Africa the two find the local villagers are less than impressed with the scripts they have learned back in Utah, and more concerned with the local warlord (General Butt Fucking Naked) and the fact nearly all of them have AIDS.
The local Mormon missionary station has managed zero converts thus far, so Elder Price is determined to prove his worth. He, unsurprisingly, fails and only manages to feel the wrath of the General. Elder Cunningham, on the other hand, reverts to type and just starts making up scripture to what he thinks the villagers want to hear – all sprinkled with references to science fiction and fantasy. He has more success, but his stories don’t go down well with the Mormon leaders. But yes, there is a happy ending.
Penned by the creators of South Park and one half of the duo that wrote Avenue Q, it should be no surprise to anyone that the show is distinctly adult in its themes. Female genital mutilation; fucking babies (and frogs); Jeffrey Dahmer and even Hitler. But here’s the thing – it’s all so very clever and achingly funny. And the music and choreography are sublime.
The Book of Mormon’s themes are undeniably Marmite. If you are the sort of person who goes out of their way to be offended, take your pearls – you’ll need them. But for this reviewer, it is my favourite show in the West End.
