All right, technically it was an opera, or a musical, or whatever it was, but Minneapolis Musical Theatre took on this British sleaze-fest with happy gusto, and the results were outrageous in the best sense of the word. The first act satisfied itself with a fictional day on the set of Jerry's show, with Carl Schoenborn channeling our head-shaking hero dealing with trannies, scat, and the KKK with an appropriately chagrinned shrug. The second act went off the rails entirely, with Jerry dead and trying to broker peace in the afterlife between Heaven and Hell, literally. As Satan said at one point, "I want a fucking apology." We didn't; we were laughing too hard.