The ABBA jukebox musical Mamma Mia! opened barely a month after the horrors of September 11, and many New Yorkers seemed to need it. A fizzy rom-com set on a Greek island promising sun, sex and famous Swedish bops, the show found a teary-eyed Broadway with arms and hearts wide open. Not me. Back then, I sneered at this “distressingly ersatz…karaoke party pretending to be a musical.” My surging bile overflowed onto the audience, those “boomer patrons soul-training down the aisles, shaking their arm wattles to the beat of ‘Dancing Queen.’” Guess I was determined to be the London transfer’s Waterloo, so to speak.
Twenty-four years and many more pounds later, how’s my underarm adipose? Reader, it jiggles. What about my feelings? Have they softened toward this global phenomenon, seen by seventy million people worldwide, translated into sixteen languages and apparently unable to besmirch Meryl Streep’s career? Still not a fan.
Pretty much the version I originally scowled through, this touring production of Mamma Mia! proves the material will not age; it still has the emotional depth of a sugared-up fourteen-year-old. The opening scene is a squeal-fest between three young women, followed later by a scream-fest between three reunited middle-aged friends. Between waves of shrieking, there are ABBA songs. The farcical tale hinges on a plot hatched by Sophie Sheridan (Amy Weaver), daughter of Donna (Christine Sherrill), the American proprietor of a scruffy taverna on a Greek island. Sophie never knew her father, but after stealing her mother’s diary (boundaries!), she discovers that around the time of her conception, Donna impulsively slept with three men. Forging her mother’s hand (more boundaries!) Sophie invites the spermatic trio to her wedding to bland finance bro Sky (Grant Reynolds), hoping one will walk her down the aisle. I assume it’s called Mamma Mia! because Mamma Was a Big Ol’ Slut wouldn’t fit on the marquee.
The story being set on a Greek island, it really ought to end in an orgy of cathartic violence and the sacrifice of a few goats, but instead we get a lot of PG-13 smut, slapstick and dance choreographed to disco-era earworms “Dancing Queen,” “Money, Money, Money,” “Knowing Me, Knowing You” and nineteen others (I counted; I recounted). The title track arrives when Donna is confronted by former lovers Harry (Rob Marnell), Bill (Jim Newman) and Sam (Victor Wallace) and spirals into a psychic meltdown with such penetrating insights such as, “Mamma mia, now I really know / My, my, I should not have let you go.” Eat your heart out, “Rose’s Turn.” To be fair, there is an 11 o’clock number for Donna, “The Winner Takes It All,” when Donna realizes that she let true love (Sam) slip through her fingers. Sherrill, raw and vulnerable in a black slip in her bedroom, belts the number with operatic fervor, clearly making a play for the bus-and-truck of Jamie Lloyd’s Sunset Boulevard.
Revived—or perhaps re-embalmed—by original director Phyllida Lloyd with the dated book by Catherine Johnson (Donna’s on e-mail!), the design includes noticeably garish and aggressive sound by Andrew Bruce and Bobby Aiken, cheapish sets and costumes by Mark Thompson and a cast that does its best in the absence of subtlety or much chemistry. Sherrill is giving Jean Smart. Marnell’s British accent is tin-eared. The actors playing Sophie’s “dads” have opportunities for goofy charm, but they never get beyond cringeworthy competence. As singers from Donna’s former days in a girl group, Carly Sakolove and Jalynn Steele ham it up mightily as the female tummler and glam diva, respectively. Choreographer Anthony Van Laast serves regular courses of beefcake and cheesecake from the young and fit ensemble.
Historically, Mamma Mia! was a breakthrough moment for the jukebox musical. In its wake came numerous flops based on the songbooks of the Beach Boys, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, John Lennon and many others. There have been successes, some worth praise: Jersey Boys and Beautiful—The Carole King Story come to mind. Today, the genre is well-established on Broadway with & Juliet, Just in Time, MJ: The Michael Jackson Musical and Moulin Rouge! The Musical. What’s there to say about the mother of them all? She delivers the fan service hard. Do I wish producers had updated the book? Hired a new director who could inject subtlety and sexual frankness, toned down the wink-wink hysteria? Yup. But you have to remember this show originated in the West End; it’s just one of England’s many crimes against musical theater. Anyway, why tinker with a formula that paid off? Mamma Mia! lasted 14 years on Broadway, no doubt rescuing ABBA songsmiths Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus from abject penury. The current victory lap continues through February. I suppose it’s cheaper than a trip to Santorini.
Mamma Mia! | 2hrs 30mins. One intermission. | Winter Garden Theatre | 1634 Broadway | 212-239-6200 | Buy Tickets Here
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