This was like seeing “A Chorus Line” at the Public Theater — long before it moved to Broadway — in 1975.

 

There’s a similarity. For all the breakthroughs in the plot and characters and attitude of both shows, they’re both traditional musicals.

 

And there’s an overwhelming difference. The creators of “The Book of Mormon” are Trey Parker and Matt Stone, who invented “South Park.”

 

Consumer warning from my wife: “If you don’t get ‘South Park,’ don’t see ‘The Book of Mormon.’

 

True, this show is astonishingly vulgar. There’s a character called Butt Fucking Naked. A song about dysentery.  A “magic fuck frog” — which prompts the line, “What, you don’t think a man can fuck a frog?” One of the show’s bigger ideas is that “the clitoris is holy.” In an X-ray, the Mormon Bible is found in an unlikely place.

 

But there are two kinds of vulgarity. There’s low vulgarity, which you can easily find on cable TV, most “guy” movies and in the décor of the summer homes of Wall Street bankers. And then there’s high vulgarity, which deals with the vulgarity of our culture but serves it up with wit and wicked spin. That’s “The Book of Mormon,” the “news” shows of Stewart and Colbert, and, on a good night, Joan Rivers dishing celebrity fashion.

 

So, yes, this musical “takes on” religion — but not like Bill Maher. The core idea is really rather sweet: the two-year mission that is required of each young Mormon. Naturally, the superstar kid (Andrew Rannells) is paired with the slob (Josh Gad). Naturally, Rannells doesn’t get his first choice — Orlando — and is, to his horror, shipped off with his loser companion to Uganda. And Uganda is not, to say the least, promising territory for religion. Almost everyone has AIDS, and many believe that the cure lies in having sex with a virgin — or even a baby. A dictator kills at will. Women are routinely “circumcised.”

 

In the process of pitching Mormonism to the natives, Parker and Stone present the history and beliefs of the Church of Latter Day Saints. Is Mormon theology ridiculous? In their view, yes. (You can’t help thinking: So are the creation stories of other religions.) But not ridiculous-stupid. Ridiculous in a human, we-need-something-to-believe way. As Matt Stone has said, “You don’t go to the theater to watch something mean. That’s no fun.”

 

 

“The Book of Mormon” is fun, and then some — the second act is non-stop laughter, the funniest half hour I have ever spent in a theater. It starts with a dream sequence in Mormon Hell, which features, in time-honored “South Park” tradition, walk-ons from such people as Jeffrey Dahmer and Johnnie Cochran. The Ugandans put on an insane musical based on their understanding of the church’s creation story. (In a wonderful dig at the troubled production of “Spider-Man,” one Ugandan whispers afterward, “We’re still in previews.”) Again, you need a decent sense of humor or you’re gonna miss the laugh that follows lines like “Joseph Smith, don’t fuck the baby.”

 

The music is sensational; you’ll recognize influences that span Disney/Elton John to Phil Spector. The dancing is crisp. The sets are howlers. And none of it will be on “Glee” any time soon.

 

Another consumer warning: Homophobes, take a pass. “The Book of Mormon” is gay. Even the straightest guys have their doubts in this show. And the buddy pairings of the missionaries do not suggest robust heterosexuality. Matt Stone, again: “We spent time hanging out in downtown Salt Lake, eating at random restaurants. We’d always ask the waiters, who were usually about 25, post-college kind of people: ‘Do you know any [Mormon] missionaries?’ Every single one was like, ‘Yes, me. Or that guy right there.’ Then we’d ask if they knew anyone who was gay in the church and they’d say, ‘Yes, me.’”

 

For those who care, the musical concludes on a rather touching note — it almost endorses belief.  Stone: "We wanted to end the musical with people looking to the sky and saying, ‘Thank you, God.’ That’s the story. The whole point is that one man’s blasphemy is another man’s religion. The point we are trying to make is that once you tell people stories, they make them their own. We think you should celebrate that.”

 

Yes, we should. But a show like “The Book of Mormon” mostly brings out the naughty boy and girl in us. You leave humming the songs (especially “Assa beaga ebo nay,” which I thoughtfully won’t translate). And you won’t soon forget the animal roar that begins as the final curtain comes down and an entire audience leaps to its feet to cheer.

 

Get tickets here. If you’re planning to have a drink — they let you drink at your seat in theaters now — start saving. A vodka costs $21.