On The Book of Mormon
(June 13, 2011) The Tonys weren’t bad. More significantly, they weren’t worse than last year. Seemed for a while there that we were stuck in a big downward spiral. But the Beacon didn’t dwarf everything, the show didn’t drag too much, Harris and Jackman’s number was fun, and even that Memphis performance was better than 2009’s touring Mamma Mia cast. And yet I still wanted to punch a bunch of people in the teeth. Because I had to hear over and over again how Book of Mormon is “changing the face of Broadway” and “revolutionary” and “shaping musicals for the next 10 years.” Bullshit. It’s an incredibly traditional show. Some of it has a conscious eye to the past: the Rodgers and Hammerstein parodies in “Joseph Smith American Moses” and “I Believe,” the tortured key change that “You and Me” lifted from Wicked. By and large, the score follows conventions that have been with us for fifty years. An early I Want song. A big ensemble number to introduce the setting. A first act finale reprising the major musical themes. Sure, the love story is only perfunctory, but writers have been jettisoning those for years; what’s more, it’s a buddy comedy - the love story is only ever secondary to the bromance in the genre anyway. Even the content is familiar. Yes, it’s probably the most profane show to win the Tony, and certainly the first one that spends so much time on the clitoris. But sticking toes outside a matinee audience’s comfort zone is hardly a great leap forward. Even the show’s eventual conclusion is old hat: the stories religion tells us may not be strictly true, but they are created by and respond to people’s needs. That’s Feuerbach. Revolutionary, in 1848. That it’s such a traditional show is, I’d venture, why it’s become such a hit. The familiar format assures the audience’s comfort. There’s a big build in “Turn It Off,” right where they’d traditionally go into a tap break, and they do. In the middle of the first act, we get a quiet I Want moment for a supporting character, see “Little Lamb” in Gypsy. Expectations are set up and met, reminding you that you’re ultimately in safe territory. So when something “shocking” is tossed out, say the reveal in “Hassa Diga Eebowai,” it’s like your grandmother saying “fuck.” Naughty, but ultimately kind of cute. Book of Mormon deserves its Tonys. The creators clearly know how the form works and had the skills to succeed in it. But don’t tell me they’re reshaping anything. To do so denies a debt to and, more importantly, the vitality of a long and marvelous tradition.
