2 weeks Ago By Laura Slattery
The show, which revolves around a ridiculously misguided mission to spread the word of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Uganda, is notorious for its grown-up material, with its reputation hinging on the ability of audiences to differentiate between jokes that are “about” awful things and jokes that invoke awfulness in the course of targeting something else completely. The troubles of the Ugandans – they’re busy dealing with the horrors of female genital mutilation, Aids and gun-toting generals – throw into sharp relief the naivety of the Mormon missionaries’ fervour, with their white-saviour conviction and Lion King-esque view of Africa mercilessly sent up before they even leave Salt Lake City. [ The Book of Mormon: ‘We put all of these subversive things into a familiar box for people.
And we swear a lot’ Opens in new window ] As might be expected from a musical co-directed by its choreographer (Casey Nicholaw, alongside Parker), the dancing and movement are key vehicles for the satire, with highlights of the first half including parodic tap-fest Turn It Off, the comic reversal of Hasa Diga Eebowai (a take-off of Disney’s pollyannaish number Hakuna Matata) and Man Up, a song that has our logic-deprived Mormons reinterpret the Crucifixion through the casual toxicity of 21st century-speak. But it’s after the interval that this show really gets going, with the dazzling Spooky Mormon Hell Dream, in which Jesus informs self-centred Elder Price (Adam Bailey) that he’s a “d***”, and the hilarious I Am Africa, in which Elder Cunningham (Sam Glen) namechecks a certain Irish frontman-turned-activist to much audience spluttering. Glen has tons of fun in a role that was originated by Frozen star Josh Gad and bears some bumbling resemblance to Father Dougal.
Elder Cunningham is a fantasist who hasn’t actually read the Book of Mormon and winds up blending tenets of his religion with elements of Star Trek, Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings . In a joke about American ignorance, he also repeatedly butchers the name of Ugandan heroine Nabulungi (a wonderful Nyah Nish) with increasingly ludicrous variations that generate some of the biggest laughs of the night. Among the script revisions introduced in 2021, the Ugandan characters have been afforded more agency, while an attempt by Nabulungi to send a text on a typewriter – always a dubious inclusion – has been wisely jettisoned in favour of an iPad prop and a gag about Facebook misinformation.
The question remains whether The Book of Mormon, which premiered on Broadway in 2011, has aged, not in terms of its potential to offend, but in terms of the relevance of its satirical intent. Sadly, even a brief glance at Donald Trump’s White House confirms that cultural imperialism, male egotism and committed narcissism – all components of religious zeal – remain rife in the corridors of power, and, as such, more than deserving themes for a solid skewering with bonus mirrorballs, jazz hands and joyous songs. The Book of Mormon runs at Bord Gáis Energy Theatre until May 3rd Laura Slattery is an Irish Times journalist writing about media, advertising and other business topics.
