Review: THE BOOK OF MORMON at Folketeateret

When The Book of Mormon first landed in Oslo in 2017, it became an instant sensation, drawing packed houses and proving that Norwegian audiences were more than ready for its mix of outrageous humor and razor-sharp satire. Now, eight years later, the musical returns to the capital in a daring new production that could easily have felt redundant — but instead bursts with fresh energy and precision. This revival at Folketeatret doesn’t just repeat past success; it amplifies it, embracing Broadway extravagance with a joy and boldness that makes the show feel funnier, sharper, and more spectacular than ever.

Clever satire on the human need for belief

When The Book of Mormon first opened, it became a phenomenon by disguising one of the sharpest theatrical satires of the last two decades as a delirious, politically incorrect comedy. Seeing it again in this new staging, I was reminded not just of how funny the show is, but of how much artistry goes into making those laughs land — and how thrilling it is when every piece of the puzzle comes together.

Even theatregoers who like The Book of Mormon often dismisses it as only being riotous, foul-mouthed comedy, but beneath the surface it is one of the most intelligent works of theatre of the past two decades. Its brilliance lies in the masquerade: outrageous gags, deliberately offensive punchlines, and cartoonish characters lure the audience into underestimating it, only for the show to reveal its sharp social critique. Trey Parker, Matt Stone, and Robert Lopez construct a satire that skewers not just Mormonism, but the human need for belief itself — the way communities invent stories, cling to them, and reshape them to survive unbearable realities. The score cleverly mimics Broadway traditions, parodying golden-age optimism and Disney sincerity, while simultaneously weaponizing them to show how myth and performance can give life meaning. The result is a piece of theatre that plays like anarchic fun but operates with surgical precision, examining faith, colonialism, and the construction of hope. Its depth is easy to miss amid the laughter, but that’s part of the design: the comedy is the sugar that makes the critique go down. Far from being just a naughty crowd-pleaser, The Book of Mormon is a sophisticated reflection on why stories matter — and how theatre itself is one of the greatest stories we tell.

The Power of Political Incorrectness

Politically incorrect humor has always been a paradox: it shocks by breaking social rules, yet it only works if it exposes a deeper truth. The Book of Mormon thrives on this paradox. Its blunt jokes about religion, race, and sexuality are not just cheap gags; they remind us that comedy is supposed to be dangerous, that laughter can puncture hypocrisy faster than moralizing ever could. For years, mainstream culture drifted toward caution — a mix of social media outrage cycles, corporate fear of backlash, and comedians themselves retreating into safer, self-referential material. The result was a comedy landscape that often felt toothless. That’s why The Book of Mormon hits so hard: it dares to say the unsayable, but it does so with purpose, using offense as a scalpel rather than a sledgehammer. Its political incorrectness matters because it reclaims comedy’s original function — not to soothe, but to unsettle, provoke, and, in doing so, illuminate something human.

In 2025, The Book of Mormon somehow feels even funnier than it did back in 2017. The jokes haven’t changed, but the world around them has: in an era where most mainstream comedy treads carefully, its gleeful irreverence lands like a shock of fresh air. What once felt merely outrageous now plays as almost liberating, poking fun at religion, culture, and human absurdity without apology. 

An Ensemble That Delivers Beyond the Laughs

The first surprise is the cast. Many of the performers here come with backgrounds in comedy, yet they don’t merely lean on timing and punchlines. They sing with confidence, deliver harmonies with polish, and, when the script asks for it, even find the dramatic undercurrents beneath the satire. It’s easy to forget how demanding The Book of Mormon actually is: the show requires its actors to be cartoonish one moment and achingly sincere the next, and this cast handles those shifts with remarkable agility.

Snorre Kind Monsson is a revelation—a star in the making. While his vocals may not reach quite the same powerhouse level as Schøyen’s, he delivers the score with confidence, precision, and warmth. His comic timing is impeccable, and he often gives the delightful impression of improvising, even when every beat is carefully measured. What makes him so compelling is that he’s not just funny; he’s utterly lovable, a natural showman who inhabits the role completely and makes it his own.

Jakob Schøyen Andersen finally proves why he is one of Norway’s most versatile performers. It is not that well documentet that he is a trained musical theatre performer. As Elder Price, he brings razor-sharp comedic timing, a magnetic stage presence, and a vocal command that elevates every number he touches. His rendition of Price is not just technically impressive but layered—capturing both the character’s polished ambition and his unraveling vulnerability. Schøyen Andersen shifts effortlessly from pinpoint comedy to genuine emotion, making his Elder Price both hilariously over-the-top and surprisingly relatable—a performance that anchors the production and reveals the depth this flashy role can hold.

When the chemistry between Elder Price and Elder Cunningham truly clicks, the entire show lifts. Their dynamic relies on a delicate balance of contrast—Price’s polished, eager perfectionism against Cunningham’s bumbling, boundless imagination. When Schøyen and Monsson lean into this tension with both playfulness and trust, the humor feels sharper, the emotional stakes more believable, and the story itself more endearing. It’s in those moments of seamless give-and-take—when their rhythm borders on improvisational—that the production transcends parody and becomes something genuinely joyous, reminding the audience that The Book of Mormon is, at its heart, a celebration of unlikely friendship. One of the biggest improvements is in the heart of the show: the dynamic between Elder Price and Elder Cunningham. At Det Norske Teatret, Elder Price never fully embodied the blinding arrogance of the self-proclaimed hero, leaving Elder Cunningham to overshadow him from the outset. That imbalance made the story lopsided. Here, the chemistry is right. Elder Price claims the spotlight with magnetic overconfidence, while Elder Cunningham is every bit the awkward tag-along, desperate for approval. This balance makes their friendship, their conflict, and their eventual growth feel more organic — and much funnier.

Comedian Jonna Støme truly impresses as Mafala, bringing sharp timing, strong presence, and unwavering commitment to the role. It’s a genuine surprise to see him command the stage with such confidence and craft, proving himself every bit as skilled as an actor in musical theatre as in stand-up.

Mimmi Tamba is no surprise in this role—I was impressed with her performance when she first took it on right after graduating, and since then she has only grown into an even more talented actress, while continuing to shine as the gifted singer she has always been. Her chemistry with Snorre Kind Monsson is delightful, and their scenes together are a true highlight.

When done right the actor playing Elder McKinleys manage to layer genuine warmth beneath the flamboyance, so that he isn’t just funny, but also unexpectedly endearing. Done right, he steals every scene; done wrong, he tips the balance of the show. Jon Sindre Fjellvang does everything above.

The ensemble deserves special recognition. Their precision, energy, and sheer joy rival any international production I’ve seen, proving that this is a show that lives or dies on the strength of its collective. What makes it even more remarkable is how many of the original cast members chose to return for this revival — a testament to just how rewarding and exhilarating it must be to perform in. The entire ensemble gives their all, throwing themselves into every number with fearless commitment. They don’t just play the comedy; they dare to make fun of themselves and the very stereotypes they portray, whether as overly eager, privileged white Mormons or as African villagers sketched in deliberately broad strokes. That self-awareness is key: it sharpens the satire while keeping the humor generous, inclusive, and irresistibly funny. Together, they create a stage picture so tight and vibrant that every joke, every dance step, and every harmony lands exactly where it should. Supporting them, the nine-piece orchestra sounds wonderfully rich, filling the theatre with a fullness that far exceeds its size and giving the production the sonic lift of a much larger band.

Faithful Yet Full of Life

Faithfulness to the original Broadway vision clearly guides the creative team, led by director Dagfinn Lyngbø, choreographer Mona Berntsen, and set and Costume Designer Stewart J. Charlesworth. While they embrace the iconic staging that has already proven its strength, they still manage to make it their own—injecting a freshness and energy that keeps the show from ever feeling like a museum piece. The set flows seamlessly, the pacing is relentless yet never rushed.

Dagfinn Lyngbø’s contribution as director goes beyond simply staging the show—he has worked meticulously to ensure the humor translates seamlessly into Norwegian, preserving the wit and rhythm of the original while giving it a local flavor that resonates with the audience. At the same time, he has clearly invested in shaping the performances, guiding the actors to deliver their lines with both precision and natural ease. The result is dialogue that lands with punch and impeccable timing, keeping the pace sharp and the comedy consistently alive.

Stewart J. Charlesworth has avoided making a carbon copy of the original sets, yet they still capture the same spirit and atmosphere. With the clever use of projections, he even enhances the comedy—whether it’s the hilarious superhero comic book featuring Jesus and Cunningham flashing across the background during “Man Up,” or the inspired choice to let Elder Price’s guilty donut become the surreal centerpiece of the terrifying Mormon Hell Dream. And while the projections add wit and variety, it’s always a thrill to see big physical sets dominate the stage, grounding the spectacle with a sense of scale and presence. These playful touches elevate the staging and show real ingenuity in blending faithfulness with fresh ideas.

Mona Berntsen’s choreography is both tight and playful, showcasing an instinct for rhythm that perfectly matches the show’s irreverent tone. What makes her work especially effective is how seamlessly the movement grows out of the text—never feeling like a break in the action, but rather an extension of it. She understands that in musical theatre, dance is not just decoration; it’s storytelling. By infusing the choreography with humor, character, and sharp timing, she enhances the comedy already present in the script while giving the musical numbers an extra spark of theatricality. The result is staging that feels alive, cohesive, and distinctly musical theatre at its best.
 

Eight Years Later: Why It Still Works
That said, it is no small risk to bring The Book of Mormon back only eight years after its hugely successful Norwegian run. The danger, of course, is that audiences might feel they have already seen it, that nothing new can be gained from another production. But this staging takes that risk head-on — not by reinventing the material, but by leaning into it. The content remains the same, yet what emerges now is almost a love letter to Broadway itself: extravagant, unapologetic, and larger than life. Where the previous version leaned into restraint, this one embraces spectacle as a virtue, celebrating everything that makes American musical theatre such a thrilling export.

In the end, what makes this Book of Mormon shine is its total commitment to the Broadway ideal: comedy that is outrageous, music that is lush, performances that are larger than life — all while retaining the satirical sting that has made it legendary. It proves that political incorrectness, when wielded with intelligence and heart, can still be both shocking and deeply human.

This is a daring revival — one that risks comparison to its celebrated predecessor, yet emerges triumphant by leaning even further into Broadway extravagance. The content hasn’t changed, but the frame has: it now plays as both a savage satire and a joyous celebration of musical theatre at its most dazzling. A riotous, extravagant, and surprisingly moving night at the theatre, this Book of Mormon reminds us why it remains one of the boldest and most entertaining musicals of our time.

 

Folketeateret
Dagfinn Lyngbø, director and Norwegian translation
Mona Berntsen, choreographer
Stewart J. Charlesworth, set and costume design

Cast: Jakob Schøyen Andersen, Snorre Kind Monsson, Jon Sindre Fjellvang, Johan Golden, Mimmi Tamba, Jonna Støme, Amanda Kara, Benjamin Windborg, Melissa Hagen, Sebastian Rasmussen, Benjamin Hiley, Sigurd Marthiniussen, Thomas Wesley Brasel among others

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