Paging Norman Borden the Mormon Doorman*

Saw two different works about Mormons recently -- "Book of Mormon" on Broadway and "Tabloid" at the cinema. While Trey Parker and Matt Stone's musical is one of the most critically acclaimed productions in recent memory, it was Errol Morris' lukewarm-reviewed documentary that had me laughing out loud from beginning to end, further proof (in my mind, anyway) that truth is always more entertaining than fiction. 

My non-love affair with musicals is no secret, yet I went into the show with an open mind and an open heart. Having grown up agnostic in the Mormon hotbed of Mesa, Arizona, I figured I would get a kick out of poking fun at the religion that makes Scientology look sane -- and god knows I had crushes on dozens of well-scrubbed Mormon boys -- so what's not to love? I'd been invited by my friend Chad to a special superfan matinee that was being taped for posterity, so spirits were extra high as co-creator Robert Lopez ("Avenue Q") came out to personally thank all the people who had been such supporters of the show. (Most people there had seen it several times already.)

Within minutes, I was enchanted with the opening number, "Hello," introducing all the cute boys singing as they rang imaginary doorbells, proselytizing the words of Joseph Smith. The play continues to show promise when Elder Kevin Price (played by the adorable Andrew Rannells) reveals that his dream is to be sent to Orlando on his mission. But just as soon as the show had me it began to unravel, as Kevin's dream proposition doesn't lead where you're hoping (were they too scared since it's still Broadway?) and as things move on to Africa -- especially in the reeeeaaaallllly long and tedious second act -- Parker-Stone's trademark "humor" wreaks its havoc of not-the-least-bit-funniness. I understand that people find them hilarious -- I witnessed the crowd DOUBLED OVER LAUGHING in the rows around me -- but no matter how hard I try, I do not see how saying "maggots in my scrotum" over and over again -- it's the refrain throughout the show -- or making the warlord's name General Butt-Fucking Naked, is the least bit clever or funny at all. To be fair, the general's name is apparently an allusion to am actual Liberian warlord from the 1990s who was known as General Butt Naked, but NO ONE in the audience would know that, so it's puerile humor at its unfunniest -- and this is coming from someone who thinks "Beavis and Butt-head" was one of the funniest shows of all time.

 

Were Beavis and Butt-head loosely based on my friend Greg and Me?

(Huh-huh -- you said loose.)

I've always believed you're EITHER a "Beavis" OR a "South Park" person. To me, Mike Judge is a genius because his characters brilliantly capture the unintentional hilarity of everyday people (see also "Office Space") whereas Parker-Stone seem to rely on artificial situations in an attempt to get cheap "laughs" (Tom Cruise coming out of a closet -- get it? -- the native Ugandans cursing their existence by saying "Fuck you, God!"), but so many people I know appreciate both, so I will just say that I thought the cast was likable and some of the music was sweet, but the show's just not for me. (I like things that are, um, funny.) If this is the best Broadway has to offer, it's no wonder I'm not much of a fan.

   What is for me is "kinky sex, religion, a beauty queen, Mormon missionaries kidnapped at gun point." This is how Kent Davin, a photographer for the Mirror, describes the story of "Sex-in-Chains Girl" Joyce McKinney, the subject of Errol Morris' wildly entertaining new documentary, "Tabloid." ("There was something in that story for everyone," Davin says.) The year was 1977 when a 20-something former Miss Wyoming and a posse of hangers-on -- including a bodyguard she found at Gold Gym in Los Angeles -- flew to England with handcuffs, a fake gun and chloroform to "rescue" her true love, Kirk Anderson, whom she says had been kidnapped by a cult. Anderson had, in fact, gone to England to do his Mormon mission, but that did little to slow the buxom blonde down, as her posse abducted him from the local Church of Latter-Day Saints and then drove him to a cottage 200 miles away, where he was reportedly chained to a bed.

   What happened next is the subject of one of the greatest tabloid scandals of all time -- she says he was a willing participant in a three-day romantic rendez-vous, he (and the authorities) say he was kidnapped and sexually assaulted, and the truth clearly lies somewhere in between -- and one of the most riveting (and really funny!) films I've seen in ages. And with its unflinching look at rape allegations, Mormonism and yellow journalism, "Tabloid" will leave you wondering if society has stood still the last 35 years.

 

*Bonus points to the first commenter to comment on this!