In an effort to discover which of her mother's three former lovers is her true father, a twenty-year-old woman invites all three men to her wedding. Here, the premise has been advanced by one generation and moved from Italy to a Greek isle. There, Gina Lollobrigida was a war widow who for twenty years persuaded three American GIs to pay support for a daughter each believed he had sired. Campbell, whose premise was clearly borrowed for this musical.
To be more accurate, credit Johnson and Melvin Frank, key screenwriter of the 1968 movie Buona Sera, Mrs. That same act's high point occurs without the benefit of any chorus at all, when three reunited middle-aged girlfriends improvise a pajama-party version of "Dancing Queen."Ĭredit English playwright Catherine Johnson for coming up with a hybrid plot that incorporates 22 ABBA songs. The most elaborate production number in Act 1 amuses with just a handful of dancers in snorkeling masks. There's only the barest amount of scenery. For the better part of the evening, it is a cunningly staged exercise in restraint, a minimalist musical in which a simple red feather boa can be as theatrical as a crashing chandelier or an onstage helicopter. People like it.Īnd although there's much to like, the big surprise here is how small Mamma Mia! is.
The musical has been running in New York for nearly a year now, so - in addition to the relentless hype - much of its popularity also must be credited to positive word of mouth.
Even as you read these words, Mamma Mia! is Broadway's hottest ticket - even more sought-after than The Producers or The Lion King. Mamma Mia!, the international megahit that cobbled together around 1970s disco-pop songs written and recorded by the Swedish quartet ABBA, is the most hyped musical in years. If, by now, you aren't aware that Mamma Mia! is being presented at the Fox, you've spent too much time searching for that lost Ferris wheel in Forest Park. By way of illustration, consider a tale of two theaters. It's hard to see a play if you don't know it's happening. That's the name of the game (to borrow an ABBA song title) when it comes to luring bodies into theater seats.