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Trey Parker, right, and Matt Stone, co-creators of the Broadway show “The Book of Mormon,” pose for a portrait outside the Eugene O’Neill Theatre in New York. (AP)
Told the creators of “South Park” were making a Broadway musical, you’d naturally expect a broad, foul-mouthed, juvenile, scatological, irreverent satire.
Sure enough, “The Book of Mormon,” which opened last night, is all that — and much, much more. It’s a fiendishly well-crafted, hilariously smart — or maybe smartly hilarious — song-and-dance extravaganza.
The show’s a hoot. The show’s a hit.
Through “South Park” (both the series and the movie) and the full-length, marionette-driven “Team America: World Police,” Trey Parker and Matt Stone have a long track record of mixing musical numbers and howitzer takedowns of all things red, white and blue. Make it very blue.
With collaborator Robert Lopez (“Avenue Q”), they’ve delivered a full-blooded tuner that rejuvenates musicals while displaying a genuine love for the form.
Wisely, the creative team avoided smarter-than-thou deconstruction and post-modern gimmicks, relying instead on a dependable, straightforward template: the mismatched-buddy comedy.
Here, the animosity that will bloom into bromance is between the roly-poly, shaggy Elder Cunningham (Josh Gad) — a nerd with a defensive, high-pitched bray — and the uptight, squeaky-clean Elder Price (Andrew Rannells), who emits the radioactive glow shared by true believers and musical-comedy freaks.
These 19-year-old Latter-Day Saints are randomly paired and sent on the two-year mission demanded by their church. But while Elder Price dreamed of shipping off to magical Orlando, Fla., the duo end up in a poor, dirty village in war-torn Uganda.
The young missionaries waiting for them haven’t made a single convert and suppress their longings and fears under neat side-parted haircuts and bright smiles. Under their own happy-go-lucky exterior, the Africans are even more resentful and dispirited, crying out their bitterness in the anthem “Hasa Diga Eebowai” — which translates as a giant middle finger to God.
It’s always something: If the intestinal parasites don’t get you, the warlords will.
Despite its title, “The Book of Mormon” is less about religion than credulity and the need to believe, as well as the singular American gift for dreaming up great stories and enduring symbols — and then selling them to everybody on the planet.
Throughout the evening, we get colorfully cartoonish peeks into the origins and tenets of Mormonism. No wonder it was the most successful faith to come out of the United States: Prophet Joseph Smith originated an action-packed saga, which the show places on the same continuum as “Star Trek,” “Star Wars” and the Disney universe.
So, yes, you can read a very clever subtext into “The Book of Mormon,” but you can also relax and enjoy the avalanche of filthy gags, butt jokes and wickedly catchy show tunes. These last incorporate everything from squealing guitar riffs to jazz-hand tap, and range from mock-inspirational ballads to Meat Loaf-style epics, especially on the brilliant “Man Up,” between Elder Cunningham and his Ugandan love interest, Nabulungi (Nikki M. James).
Co-directors Parker and Casey Nicholaw (who also choreographed) keep up an unrelenting pace for 2½ hours. Each time you think they can’t possibly top a particularly crazed moment, 10 more follow.
A “Spooky Mormon Hell Dream” complete with sequined chorus boys and giant coffee cups (Mormons can’t consume caffeine) not enough for you? The Ugandans strike back with “Joseph Smith American Moses,” a fantastical pageant in which Brigham Young ends up with a clitoris on his nose.
Those who happen to know their light-skinned Nephites from their dark-skinned Lamanites will appreciate such throwaway lines as Elder Price’s earnest “I believe that in 1978
God changed his mind about black people.”
But even if you aren’t familiar with the intricacies of Mormon lore, it’s all good. There are some 487 more jokes to come — “I’m wet with salvation,” Nabulungi hotly exclaims after being baptized by Cunningham — crammed into every nook and cranny.
By the time “The Book of Mormon” ends in an orgy of over-the-top cheer, you just can’t wait to get on that ride all over again.
elisabeth.vincentelli
@nypost.com