Meryl Streep saves ‘Mamma Mia!’ from sinking into an ABBA abyss

Lloyd was on the mark when she made the statement. Unfortunately, she has stumbled far off that mark in the much-anticipated film version of the ABBA musical. What could have been a breathtaking, emotionally riveting big-screen adventure often turns into a clunky ride that stumbles from scene to scene hoping to find its beating heart. In the end, it’s not the oddly choreographed, curiously edited and disjointed execution that send this ABBA homage traveling south; it’s a lack of connection Lloyd and screenwriter Catherine Johnson make with their movie audience. Unlike last year’s Hairspray, which so aptly grabbed its viewers on the inside—and allowed us to celebrate the giddiness of love and unity—Mamma Mia! emotes when it should evoke.

Several things do keep this venture afloat. One of them is Meryl Streep. It may be a cliché to say at this point, but the Oscar-winner can do no wrong. (And when all things seem to be slipping through her fingers in Mamma Mia!, you realize that is exactly the case.) Beyond Streep, one must make a case for the music here, which comes from the overly frothy, always catchy ABBA queue. When all is sung and done, you can’t help but walk away from Mamma Mia! liking it. (Let’s face it, when it comes to ABBA, can we really take anything that seriously?)

The story remains true to the stage hit, which, since it debuted in London a decade ago, went on to become a Broadway showstopper. Actually, the story originated in the ’80s when producer Judy Craymer began working with ABBA alums Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus on “Chess.” (Craymer comes back to produce here.) Thanks to a successful touring show, more than 30 million people have now experienced the production’s curious spell, which (loosely) wraps a modern-day love story set in Greece around a string of cheery, often dreamy ABBA hit songs like “Honey, Honey,” “Dancing Queen,” “Voules-Vous,” “S.O.S.,” “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme” and, of course, “Mamma Mia!”

Streep assumes the lead role of Donna, the independent, single mother who owns a small hotel on an idyllic Greek island, but most of the drama revolves around Donna’s daughter, Sophie (Amanda Seyfried). Sophie is about to get married and in her quest to find out who her father really is, she invites three men from her mother’s past to the wedding (Pierce Bronson, Stellan Skarsgård and Colin Firth, a true “Super Trouper” in this outing). Unfortunately, Sophie doesn’t tell Donna about this, but by the time Donna discovers what’s happened, she can lean on visiting gal pals Rosie (Julie Walters) and multi-divorcee Tanya (Christine Baranski). The long-time friends once crooned in a band dubbed Donna and the Dynamos.

This is a stellar cast. Baranski and Walters—always a gem—shine. Firth is marvelous, underplaying his role as a befuddled ex-love to winning ends. As for Bronson—he tanks and as such is giving the most appropriate ABBA song to sing in this enterprise: “S.O.S.” (You know something has gone horribly wrong when a former James Bond croons, and the audience can only laugh.) As for the remainder of the supporting cast, Sophie’s two girlfriends nearly drop out of sight mid-way through the film. The only supporting player that stands out is Dominic Cooper as Sophie’s fiancé. You get the sense there’s a “there” there.

That’s the problem with Mamma Mia! With the exception of Streep, you don’t believe in it. Not the way you should. (Who can forget how off things felt in Grease 2? At times, it feels the same way here.)

Visually sumptuous, Lloyd does manage to deliver the most romantic, sensuous aspects of a Greek isle. The more rewarding musical numbers—“Dancing Queen,” “Voules-Vous” and a heartwrenching “The Winner Takes it All”—make use of the amorous settings and are downright captivating. Other pieces, ones that could have been triumphant, fall flat, particularly “Does Your Mother Know?” and, sadly, “Mamma Mia!” It’s fine to have your actors roam from room to room, singing so dramatically on stage, but it only comes across as claustrophobic on film when it’s done more than one or two times.

One can see how Lloyd, who makes her debut as film director here, may have been overwhelmed by staging these outings. They never leap from their settings as they did when they were performed for the theater. Part of that may have to do with editing. Still, Lloyd does not seem to know how to best make use of a close-up or even deliver a more expansive, effecting shot of her ensemble’s work. Some numbers feel too tight when they should be set loose. Others are given too much space when they should be reigned in. And while the concept of including a communal European verve in some musical numbers is divine, we’re not connected enough to the surrounding players or the community to care too much about them or the songs they are singing.

Thank you for the music? Sure. But, next time, to use ABBA vernacular, “don’t go wasting my emotion.”

MAMMA MIA!

** 1/2 (out of four)

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