The Book of Mormon (Capitol Theatre) ★★★★★

Book, Music & Lyrics by Trey Parker, Robert Lopez & Matt Stone. Capitol Theatre, Sydney. From 15 Jul, 2025.

I had no intention of actually reviewing The Book of Mormon. After a very hectic week (lots of shows, lots of writing, lots of day job work, lots of real-world dramas), it was meant to be a simple, fun night at the theatre with a friend—something I didn’t have to think about too much. I wasn’t invited to review it, so there was no obligation, etc. This one was just for funzies. So why am I writing this now?

Because it was completely, filthily, fucking five-stars worth of brilliant!

When I saw the show originally (back in 2013), I remember cackling my arse off but doubting it would work as well a second time around. Many of the laughs then came from the “oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-they-said-that-on-stage” shock factor. Would any of it be funny when you already knew what was coming? And that’s true—the incongruity of hearing a bunch of words I won’t repeat in the middle of brassy Broadway numbers is still there, but now it gets a wry smile rather than a shocked guffaw.

What I’d forgotten is just how sharp everything else about the show is. The book of The Book of Mormon walks a gossamer-thin line between lovingly poking fun and raucous abuse of the Church of Latter-Day Saints (and all religion, really). The genius move is digging beneath the intellectual self-denial of spiritual belief to explore the suppressed, complex emotional lives of believers. From Elder Price’s vanity and self-serving sense of destiny to Elder Cunningham’s hunger for approval. Even the intense profanity has a deeper point about entitled white saviours, racist caricatures, and the gap between words and deeds. Casey Nicholaw’s choreography is genuinely a standout (despite my pet hate—the accursed fake, amplified taps and claps).

And the new cast are sharp. So fucking sharp! They have real “first cast” energy, not “touring cast 14 years after the debut” energy. Sean Johnston completely nails the physicality and tone of the optimistic-and-over-entitled Elder Price. And his vocals—Jesus Christ! Nick Cox brings the schlubby Elder Cunningham real comedic charm while perfectly nailing the choreography and vocals. Together, their dynamic powers the show and gives it a stronger emotional core than I expected beneath the mountain of crude jokes. But it doesn’t stop there. The entire ensemble is both in on the joke and performing like their lives depend on it. The big production number “I Am Africa” is jaw-droppingly ridiculous and impressively precise.

As the stink of aggrieved religious conservatism creeps into the political arena overseas, The Book of Mormon remains a breath of fresh air. Will it offend? Quite possibly—hearing an ensemble sing “Fuck you, God” while joking about female genital mutilation isn’t exactly mainstream family entertainment, even in 2025. Will you laugh? For sure. Should you book? Fuck yes.