‘Book of Mormon’ at the Forrest (third review)

And then I met Joshua. He’s a bright-eyed ten-year-old kid (full disclosure — he’s not a relative. In fact, he’s the son of one of my husband’s colleagues from Minneapolis). We were having lunch with his parents this week, and when I mentioned en passant we’d seen the show, we became instant royalty. “You saw The Book of Mormon?!” he exclaimed, awestruck. At first, I thought he was going to bow down and kiss my feet. Instead, he and his 14-year-old brother jumped up from the table and burst into song from one of the show’s numbers:

“What did Jesus do when they sentenced him to die?

Did he try to run away? Did he just break down and cry?

No, Jesus dug down deep, knowing what he had to do,

When faced with his own death, Jesus knew that he had to —

Man up….”

His parents turned red-faced (their performance had stopped conversation in the restaurant). But that did not curb their sons’ enthusiasm. They proceeded to sing the entire song. To his parents’ relief, there were only four stanzas, and miraculously, the f-word was not mentioned, although it was the most frequently used word throughout the show — outnumbering “the” and “and.”

As it turns out, Joshua and his older brother have already memorized the entire score, in anticipation of the national tour’s arrival in Minneapolis.

“You can’t take these things seriously”

What compelled me to weigh in on this show for BSR was Joshua’s reflexive choice of song, not to mention his passion for the entire score. You already know the plot of this preposterously profane musical, about a crew of Mormon missionaries who venture into Africa to convert the natives. Allegedly, it’s a screwball satire on religion, written by the hip creators of South Park. “Man Up” is a number that the missionaries sing in reference to Jesus Christ as he was facing his crucifixion. In fact, it was one of the more benign songs in a score that includes a number called “Hasa Diga Eebowai” — translated as (heaven help us) “Fuck You, God.”

Why has this show captured a young person’s fancy? “It’s funny,” explained Joshua. “Why?” I pressed. “Because it’s ridiculous,” he replied. “O.K.,” I said, “but you’re Jewish, you don’t believe in Jesus Christ. How would you feel if the show made fun of your religion? “I’d laugh even more,” replied Joshua. “You can’t take these things seriously. Or personally.”

What Joshua taught me is to look at The Book of Mormon as a phenomenon of popular culture — an American one, specifically, in which nothing is considered sacred, and any aspect of the human condition is fair game for satire. In London, Michael Billington of the Guardian called it a "safe, conservative show for middle America.” This patronizing comment notwithstanding, Billington is right in noting that its popularity is spreading like wildfire, as this sell-out Broadway show goes on national tour. American billboards publicize it as “The Best Musical of this Century” (although I wonder if the advertisers get the joke).

The question is: Why do audiences go wild for its profanity, for its rule-breaking irreverence, for its “can-you-top-this?” vulgarity and offensiveness? It contains songs that make fun of rape, AIDS, female mutilation, and torture, as well as religion (list incomplete). What’s happening? Have we out-swifted Jonathan Swift?

Out-swifting Swift

That leads me to the next question: What topics today are sacred in the theater? 9/11? Theresa Rebeck and Alexandra Gersten-Vassilaros treated it in their play Omnium Gatherum. Nazism? Mel Brooks got there first in The Producers (remember “Springtime for Hitler”?). Physical deformities? Martin McDonagh exploited that in The Cripple of Inishmaan. Terrorism? Again, McDonagh addressed it in his wickedly funny Lieutenant of Inishmore, as did Christopher Durang in Why Torture Is Wrong, and the People Who Love Them.

The dictionary definition of satire is a literary work that holds up human vices and follies to ridicule and scorn. It may provoke laughter, but satire is essentially a serious genre, and these five substantial, above-mentioned works adhere closely to that definition, offering keen insights. The Book of Mormon, on the other hand, trips over its own determination to be outrageous and dissolves into sheer silliness. The show may be entertaining while you’re watching it, but forgettable by the time you get home. It’s a quick comedic fix, that’s all.

So what’s the next topic that theater will attempt to satirize? ISIS’s beheading of children in Iraq? The Israel/Gaza tragedy? The Holocaust? Aren’t there any topics left that are sacred? Or does the popularity of The Book of Mormon teach us that everything’s up for grabs?

How do we teach our children that there are some topics that deserve our respect — that should be “untouchable,” beyond satire? “Don’t take it personally,” Joshua said. But in the end, it’s up to each of us to define “sacred” for ourselves, and, in the words of the Crosby, Stills & Nash, “Teach Your Children Well.”

“Lighten up,” I imagine Joshua advising me. Maybe I’d better do that, if I want to survive in the 21st century. Meanwhile, I can’t help remembering the usher I spoke to at the Forrest the night I attended The Book of Mormon. “I’m a devout Catholic,” she said. “So I do my job, and get people in. Once they’re seated, and the house lights go down, I wait outside in the lobby until intermission.”

For a review by Naomi Orwin, click here.

For a review by Steve Cohen, click here.

For a review by Tara Lynn Johnson, click here.

To read Dan Rottenberg’s review of the Broadway production, click here.