Eugene O’Neill Theatre, New York There is an extended sequence showing Hitler enjoying oral sex with the devil, a blown up x-ray of a rectal blockage caused by a religious text, and its central song involves characters literally sticking up their middle fingers to God: it is safe to say that this Broadway musical is not Les Miserables. Predictably, it is the work of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the permanently sniggering but deceptively brilliant duo behind South Park. The musical – The Book of Mormon – is their Broadway debut. Less predictably, it has become the most critically acclaimed new musical for years. Jon Stewart, host of the Daily Show, described it as “so good it makes me angry”, and Ben Brantley, the New York Times’s notoriously difficult-to-please theatre critic, apparently underwent a religious conversion during the show, using the kind of evangelical language in his review that the show mocks, beginning with “heaven” and ending with “paradise”, with an “ecstatic” along the way. Only heavy prayer will get you tickets – that or celebrity status: the night I went Sandra Bullock was sitting in front of me, an experience only slightly more surreal than hearing a whole auditorium singing along to a chorus that goes: “Fuck you, God, in the ass, mouth and cunt.” Sandra’s shoulders shook delightedly. This terrific musical follows two Mormons, the narcissistic Elder Price (Andrew Rannells) and the socially awkward Elder Cunningham (the wonderful Josh Gad), who are sent to Uganda to convert the natives. It’s a classic buddy movie set-up combined with the equally classic tale of Americans bossing around other countries, from South Pacific to The Three Amigos. But the joke here is what happens when religious and cinematic idealisation meets reality: “Africa is nothing like The Lion King! I think that movie took a lot of artistic licence!” wails one Mormon upon arrival. It’s hard to convince people of the relevance of a religion when even its devotees occasionally struggle to explain why a warlord is threatening the village’s women with clitoridectomies. The music, written by Parker, Stone and Avenue Q’s Robert Lopez, is catchy, catty and scatological, as was Parker and Stone’s brilliant 2004 film, Team America: World Police. Some critics have marvelled at the show’s “surprising sweetness” but the pair’s longtime fans will raise no eyebrows. Although fearlessly offensive, the two are always deeply moral, even occasionally sentimental, and this show is no exception. The have-it-both-ways conclusion tells us religious prophets were probably all lonely fantasists with self-esteem problems, but if it makes people happy, so what? Parker and Stone reserve their real bile for a far more offensive target: The Lion King. As if poor Julie Taymor hasn’t suffered enough this year with the humiliating debacle of her deservedly vilified Spider-Man: Turn off the Dark, her more successful Broadway musical is held up for constant ridicule here. The animals in The Lion King shrugged away their worries with Hakuna Matata but the Ugandans here find that their problems (“We haven’t had rain for several days / 80% of us have Aids”) need more so they opt for a cheerful Hasa Diga Eebowai or Fuck you, God. Even Taymor’s Spider-Man collaborator, Bono, gets an always deserved kicking: “I am Africa! / Just like Bono, I am Africa / Africans are Africans but I am Africa!” sings a distinctly unAfrican Mormon. The Book of Mormon is funny, it’s fun, the sets and music are excellent and, most of all, it’s smart as hell. Spider-Man, weep and learn. Rating: 5/5 Broadway Theatre New York South Park Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark Sandra Bullock Bono United States Hadley Freeman guardian.co.uk