21 October – 8 November

Premiered on Broadway in 2011, The Book Of Mormon was written by Trey Parker and Matt Stone of South Park fame in collaboration with Robert Lopez, co-creator of the very rude puppet musical Avenue Q, so it should come as no surprise that it is somewhat lacking in refined good taste. Nevertheless, one may still gasp in astonishment at the audacity of a show that finds comedy in such unpromising material as famine, AIDS, parasitic disease, FGM and warlord oppression. Religious faith is fearlessly satirised, leaving one to ask ‘Is nothing sacred?’ The answer here is a resounding ‘No.’

All that decidedly robust comedy is delivered in a show with high production values, including good tunes snappily choreographed, and engaging performances from a uniformly strong cast. Elder Price (Daniel George-Wright – clean-cut all American) is self-centred and ambitious – he dreams of being transferred to Orlando, with all its Walt Disney World attractions. Upon qualifying as a missionary, he is paired with the far less ambitious Elder Cunningham (Sam Glen – endearingly needy), an anxious social misfit who is more familiar with Star Wars and Lord Of The Rings than he is with Mormon doctrine, and given to telling fibs whenever caught in a tight spot.

This odd couple find themselves transferred to a group of missionaries who are failing utterly to convert anyone in Northern Uganda, and the show’s clever scenic design swiftly transports the action from glossy Salt Lake City to a shabby, disease-ridden Ugandan village. When the villagers sing an upbeat number entitled Hasa Diga Eebowai there are seeming echoes of Hakuna Matata from The Lion King, but The Lion King it is not. The song has a very different meaning from ‘no worries,’ with middle fingers defiantly pointing skywards to a God that has brought nothing but misery.

One of those miseries is the threat posed by the local warlord, determined to impose FGM on the village chief’s daughter, Nabalungi, portrayed with great charm and with a powerful singing voice by Nyah Nish.

Among the indignities she suffers is being repeatedly misnamed by the Mormons – she is variously called Neutrogena, Nutella, and even, poor thing, Nigel Farage.

After a series of hysterically funny misadventures, it is the hapless Elder Cunningham who brings about a happy conclusion to everyone’s troubles. His penchant for making up far-fetched stories proves to be the means by which not only the entire village converts to his own unique, newly-invented version of Mormonism, but the warlord becomes an enthusiastic peace-loving convert too.

If you are prone to taking offence, The Book Of Mormon is not for you, for it is unsparing in its mockery. But look closer and you will see that it is no mere exercise in ruffling the feathers of the easily affronted. Those well-intentioned if somewhat misguided Mormon missionaries are depicted with more than a touch of affection, and the show concludes with an acknowledgement that religious faith, if not taken too dogmatically, can be a powerful source both of social cohesion and of solace. There is a delicious twist in having the villagers explain to the missionaries that religious teachings are best interpreted as metaphors, not literal truths. Co-creator Matt Stone has called The Book Of Mormon ‘an atheist’s love letter to religion’ but there is little doubt you are more likely to leave the theatre laughing at the show’s outrageously irreverent jokes than in solemn contemplation of its tolerant, all-embracing liberal message.

★★★★★  Mike Whitton,  23 October 2025

 

 

Photography credit:  Paul Coltas