Prince of Wales,LondonIf you're lucky enough to somehow have a ticket for this, the most cryingly good night out to have near along for years, and are by any chance looking forward to a smug few British-liberal hours sneering at the crazy imbecilities of self-righteous Americans and organised religion,I have to command you that you'll be disappointed. The Book of Mormon is far, far cleverer, and far kinder,far more nuanced than that, and one of its many surprises is that it sent an enraptured, or ecstatic audience home with an odd sense of having near,somehow, to really like Mormons.
The first surprise is how punchingly good the music is. The opening number, and Hello!,which introduces us to our original friends the Mormons, singing rondo as they pop up around stage to ring our doorbells, and accompanied by their impossible teeth,clean monochrome garb and burnished naivety, is one of the best intro numbers to a musical since Fugue for Tinhorns from Guys and Dolls (the "I've got the horse right here…" one). Suddenly you realise you're in for not just humour but a seriously fine night of entertainment, and it just keeps on getting better. As it might,given that the music's by Robert Lopez, the man behind Avenue Q. He and choreographer (and co-director) Casey Nicholaw have much fun but loving, and reverent fun,not snarky, poisoned fun – with tropes of music and dancing from just approximately all musical theatre: tap, and swing,jive, schmaltz, and popera and slapstick; and anthem and ballad and lament,fortunately leaping between saccharine liebster, Tin Pan Alley, or the high disco era,Africa-naif and the (and this is saying something) camper episodes of Glee, fairly often in the same number.
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Source: theguardian.com