Tony Awards The Book of Mormon

What's Urinetown like? To quote the show, ''let's just say it's filled with symbolism and things like that.'' A decades-long drought has made privately owned toilets a no-no, and people must do their business in pay-per-use potties. If you go on your own, you'll be banished to Urinetown — a fate that is, well, actually death. Thus, it's up to Bobby Strong (originally played by Hunter Foster) to lead a pee-for-free revolution. With one of the most provocative titles this side of The Motherf---er With the Hat and songs like ''It's a Privilege to Pee,'' Urinetown had audiences wetting their pants.

Good morning, New York City! Meet Tracy Turnblad, a chubby, Kennedy-era Baltimore teen who dreams of twisting and shouting on the local bandstand show, and Edna, her mountain-size agoraphobic mother (traditionally played by a man, like Harvey Fierstein) who must learn to strut her stuff outside. Their wacky hairdos and ecstatic shimmies are made for giggling.

What isn't funny about ''The Man'' getting brought down a peg? That's what happens when window washer J. Pierrepont Finch (played by Daniel Radcliffe in the 2011 revival, pictured) bluffs his way up the ranks at the World Wide Wicket Company. The comedy gold lives in the winks between angel-faced Pierrepont and the audience as he subtly manipulates his moneyed targets.

Two divorced theater stars (portrayed by Marin Mazzie and Brian Stokes Mitchell in the 1999 revival, pictured) reunite to mount a musical adaptation of Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew in this backstage tuner about the battle of wits and egos that is love (and good theater). He's vain. She's a diva. Their rat-a-tat verbal sparring and sidesplitting slapstick slapping (thanks to married book writers Samuel and Bella Spewack) are matched only by the fun in Cole Porter's lyrics (ex. ''He may have hair upon his chest but, Sister, so does Lassie'').

A meeting of the minds between two dirty, rotten dudes — one a dapper con man, the other an uncouth drifter — turns into an all-out war over a girl who has just as many secrets as they do in David Yazbek and Jeffrey Lane's uncouth musical adaptation of Frank Oz's 1988 movie. As one of the scoundrels says to the other, ''What you lack in grace, you certainly make up for in vulgarity.'' That's a good thing.

Chaperone opens with a lament about the current state of Broadway (and Elton John musicals) from a Jazz Age loving theater queen, then turns into a send-up of 1920s tuners when the sad hero puts on a record of a musical called The Drowsy Chaperone and the scenes come alive in his studio apartment. We're talking full production numbers---Plate spinning! Show girls! Thugs! — and barrels of laughs as a follies star (played by Sutton Foster in the original Broadway production, pictured) tries to quit the business to marry an oil tycoon. Aida it ain't.

Very black comedy, anyone? There is a dorky, skid-row florist who crushes on his ditzy coworker. There is a leather-clad dentist who loves inflicting pain. And there's a gruff-talking, flesh-eating Venus flytrap who munches her way through most of the ensemble. ''Feed me, Seymour! Feed me all night long!''

Six eccentric young outcasts compete for the title of spelling bee champ in this comic look at one of life's darker rights of passage: Middle School. With names like William Barfee (''It's pronounced Bar-FAY!'') and Logainne Schwartzandgrubenierre, you instantly feel for them. But, come on, don't those names alone make you want to guffaw?

How do you make Monty Python and the Holy Grail even funnier? Take the film's clopping coconuts, horseless knights, killer rabbits, and unforgettable lines (''Just a flesh wound'') and add a voluptuous love interest named the Lady of the Lake (a ''watery tart'') with her sexy singing Laker girls and a subplot about taking the holy quest to Broadway. The Python humor is clearly ''not dead!''

In 1959, a down-and-out Broadway moneyman and a young accountant scheme to make bank by putting on an expensive flop for cheap and running off with the rest of the money once the play closes. Their pick: A musical by an ex-Nazi called Springtime for Hitler: A Gay Romp With Adolf and Eva at Berchtesgaden. The rub: It becomes a hit. Adapted by Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan from Brooks' 1968 film, The Producers set the bar for the film-to-stage musical transfer, scoring a record-breaking 12 Tony Awards and making gobs of money.

Picture Sesame Street gone bad. Give every character a quarterlife crisis. Make grownup child star Gary Coleman their super. And hand them some drugs and booze. Now you have this early aughts musical about young New Yorkers (both puppets and people) that taught us about life (''Everyone's a little bit racist''), relationships (''The more you love someone, the more you wishing him dead''), and a sexy blond, lounge singer puppet called Lucy T. Slut.

Just how outrageous is this Mormon-missionaries tuner from the minds of South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone and Avenue Q writer Robert Lopez? There's a character called ''General Buttf---ing Naked.'' There's a song that translates to ''F--- You, God!'' Hitler makes an appearance. And a Mormon has a bible shoved in his rear. Laughing yet?

Hilarity happens when a slave (played by Nathan Lane in the 1996 revival, pictured) tries to help his young master get off with a virginal neighbor in Stephen Sondheim's Plautus-inspired romp through ancient Rome, which is full of masquerades, mistaken identities, cross dressing, some extremely athletic courtesans, and one very funny funeral.