ABBA: Why?

I was coerced into watching Mamma Mia on Sunday, as a trade-off for making my girlfriend watch Timecrimes. Although she actually liked Timecrimes. It's pretty rad. Some might argue that my not being an ABBA fan, female, or post-menopausal puts me so far out of this film's target audience that for me to review it (i.e. rip it to shreds) would be unfair.

I don't care. It's going to be a large one.

Mamma Mia

There is a conflict inherent in watching this film. As it is a musical, characters frequently break into song, and when they do, they sing ABBA. Yet the band ABBA is never mentioned. One assumes in a world where it is normal to break into "Take a Chance", ABBA would be mentioned at least once.

Unless it's a world where ABBA doesn't exist.

If this is the case, could one just not associate with people who break into song, and then live in a world that is without ABBA? That would be heaven.

The scene is set on a Greek island. Amanda Seyfried plays Sophie, a girl who is American despite living in Greece for all of her life. She lives with her mother, Donna (Meryl Streep), who runs a hotel, and is about to marry Sky (Dominic Cooper). Sophie, however, does not know who her father is. By stealing her mother's diary, she realises her father could be one of three men: Sam (Pierce Brosnan), Harry (Colin Firth), or Bill (Stellan Skarsgard). In this musical universe, they don't have birth control. Sophie, pretending to be her mother, invites the three men, hoping to have her real father give her away at the wedding. The presence of the men causes havoc, and singing. Also in play are Donna's friends and former band members, the drunk and brassy one (Julie Walters) and the drunk and thrice-divorced one (Christine Baranski), as well as Sophie's two friends, who do so little that they deserve no further words.

The film was directed by Phyllida Lloyd and written by Catherine Johnson, as was the stage musical the film is based upon. Between them, there is little cinematic experience. It shows. The film is loud and stupid, with the camerawork resembling what a fifteen-year-old girl with a handycam might do with the material, with crash-zooms and smash-wipes at inappropriate moments, and the most obvious and unsubtle of choices at every turn. The story has as much tension as a Mr Men book, with almost no conflict save for characters keeping secrets, telling lies, and telling others to keep secrets and lie for little reason beyond the opportunity for cheap farce. The point may be the music above the story, but a modicum of suspense or surprising plot turn or two would not have undone the movie. There has also never been a film with so much squealing in it, and that includes every horror film ever made.

The singing and dancing vary in quality. Baranski, with stage experience, does fine work. Streep is likable enough, and having enough fun, to maintain some dignity when in a role with none. Seyfried is as delightful as she always is, with a strong voice to boot. Brosnan is so bad as to almost make the film worth watching for his singing alone. His voice is so terrible it makes you wish he'd been dubbed over by anyone, even the lead singer of Nickelback. The dancing is occasionally fun but more often lazy; the choreography of "Dancing Queen" consists of Street, Baranski and Walters, as well as a bunch of Greek women, skipping down to a dock. The extras on the whole are terrible, only slightly better than the chorus in a third-rate high school play. There is also a bizarre fantasy sequence - put to the song "Money, Money, Money" - where being rich is equated with the ability to drive a ship.

There's a definite audience for this film, where all that matters are the bright colours and ABBA numbers. Outside of that group, there is some mild curiosity value, a couple of reasons why the film might not be a total loss: Amanda Seyfried's adorableness; Pierce Brosnan's awful voice; the gayest stag party ever, involving shirtless men in flippers dancing on a wharf.

To be fair, it's silly and light and fluffy and harmless. It isn't the worst film of all time. An ABBA musical was never going to be high art. It's something that you can turn your brain off to for ninety minutes. Can one really ask for more than that?

Yes.

3/10

Just to be clear: I know I'm a prick. But Mamma Mia has now outgrossed Titanic in the UK. United Kingdom, what's wrong with you? You produce so much good stuff, why do you feel the need to balance that out with shit?

I have never understand ABBA. I understand that they're liked, or even loved. But why, of all bands, do they have a revival every fourteen seconds? A lot of acts were producing shitty pop music in the seventies! A lot of these acts, surely, were as campy as ABBA. What makes ABBA so groundbreaking so that they're one of the most resilient bands on the planet? If anyone cares to explain, they will be duly rewarded.*

Finally: Mamma Mia has revealed a weakness in Meryl Streep. A chink in her armor. For those who thought there is nothing she cannot do, this film begs to differ. Meryl Streep cannot pretend to drive a car against a projected backdrop for shit. For those unlucky enough to have easy access to the movie, whack it on. Skip to the scene where she's driving Christina Baranski and Julie Walters back to her villa. And wonder just how the fuck it is that the car is actually remaining on the road.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go work on my Journey musical, Streelight People.

*With a thank you.