As soon as Sophie breaks into the Abba song, I Have a Dream, we are hooked. Rachel McSweeney, who is a light on stage throughout the show, makes a perfect, pretty bride-to-be singing on a Greek Island as she prepares for the arrival of her two besties – and her potential father.

“I’ve invited my Dad,’’ she then tells her bridesmaids as she regales the story about the three men who had romantic flings with her mother 21 years ago, “and dot dot dot’’. [More]

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Richard O’Brien famously said that his Rocky Horror Show answered the question “What would make people come to the theatre on a wet Sunday afternoon in Hamilton?” Mamma Mia’s existential question this week might have been what would get people out on a cold Wednesday night in Wellington?

Judging by the queues round the block they would have showed up after a force 7 earthquake. This is my first time as a reviewer of shows for which the run has already been extended in the warm glow of public acclaim. I’m just adding another bunch of flowers to the pile.

I am conscious that Abba wasn’t just a singing group. It was a force of nature that left us with a large back catalogue of dazzlingly distinctive songs. Songs that garnered rapt world attention and gave a degree of gravitas to the word “catchy”. But that was back in the mid-to-late last century! (I recall being in the US in the days when a 747 couldn’t take off until the tape of ‘Hasta manana’ was rolling. The elevator wouldn’t work unless the invigorating strains of ‘Waterloo’ were clearly audible. Supermarket doors stayed shut until ‘Money, Money, Money’ geared up).

Yet glancing around the packed audience it is like scanning a portrait of the world population of 2025. All ages, all races, all dress styles and plenty of tacky costumes. It all appears to be a rebirth of The Sound of Music days when, as an antidote to Vietnam, the punters retired to cinemas on Sunday night to sing and try to be happy.

The show itself is the product of some pretty shrewd thinking. The Abba songbook is wide and deep; it might easily have been diluted into a half dozen passable shows. Instead, they banked heavily on loading the musical jewels upfront into a blockbuster show for the ages. So it has profitable proved. The show has not aged. Quite the opposite.

There are almost 30 top songs here that tell many human stories, often with a tone of disillusionment or despair. Bubble gum they are not.

Reciting the plot of Mamma Mia is a bit like recounting the Christmas or Cinderella stories, but here goes:

Sophie (good looking daughter of middle-aged looker Donna) is being married to Sky on an idyllic Greek island with a past of its own. She secretly invites three paternity-eligible guys (Sam, Bill and Harry, representing universal manhood) to the wedding. One of them must be her dad. Predictable and unpredictable things happen on the big day.

Might sound a bit flimsy but you can detect a real beating heart somewhere in there. A sincere pending bride with a need to know the most fundamental facts of her identity. A man-scorned mother battling to keep a decaying taverna designed by Sam in the glory days. Sundry much-married friends and relations nuzzling the romance of a wedding and hoping to be touched by the magic.

That invites a recurrent cycle of elucidatory chat quickly morphing to dance and song; rinse and repeat. There are so many levels of personal investment and Shakespearian ignorance. This manages to keep interest in the plot while leaving the cast to perform both as actors and entertainers until all is magically revealed. A triumph of making something impressively memorable out of nothing much.

This is an exceptionally clever production; one that really moves. It is in almost constant motion drawing on the wide range of moods in the songs. Humour is there in sufficient quality to make it worthwhile, often in the form of much married but still trying Tanya and Rosie. The audience do want it and make the most of it. Not a single pun or slightly off-colour double-take receives less than full audience rapture. There may be occasional plot holes and dramatic crudities but they are swept along in the walls of laughter and keen anticipation of the next song and dance (without which “who are we?”).

The choreography is simply A1 plus. It fills the stage, it guides the mood. It is ultra precise but never robotic. The characters seemingly develop under its urging. The moment I say that the ensemble excels itself in ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme’, I have to accept that their ‘I Do, I Do, I Do’ is perfection on wheels (everyone onstage is contributing) or that ‘The Winner Takes All’ is bang on (for pathos and its sheer strength of sound.)

I’ve sat through many imported musicals over the years. Most have underwhelmed. They lacked warmth, attention to detail and artistic commitment. This highly local Mamma Mia produces something that is both finely integrated and akin to the elusive wall of sound. The cast truly fills out the stage with a goodwill that spills out into the audience.

Time to name names. Gemma Hoskins’ Donna touchingly bestrides her harassed today and her fabled yesterday – and can sing like an angel. The rough and tumble relationship with daughter Sophie is crucial and is poignantly rendered. Rachel McSweeney’s Sophie is underpinned by resentment about the last 21 years but her clear-eyed view, that the story is about her mum rather than her, brings a touching resilience to bear. She comes across as a pillar of goodness that keeps it all real.

William Duignan (Sam), Glenn Horsfall (Harry) and David Hoskins (Bill) make up the cohort of unaware (but mildly intrigued) men. Construction wiz Sam is said to understand buildings better than people. Harry and Bill seem to be coming along for the ride but one of them is almost devoured by man-hungry Rosie. Their various accents (from Dublin to Dallas) wobble around a bit but they are a convincingly fragmented trio from the giddy past. They very capably make the whole thing go round.

As for Aunt Rosie (Jody McCartney), this is a stunning piece of work. She is a stunning piece of work – brilliantly abetted by Georgia Jamieson Emms’ much recycled Tanya. Two highly musical singers, they bring depth to their respective roles. Everyone would have wished to have seen Ethel Merman in her heyday. McCartney is right up there. Well done those two ladies, you are tag team of the night.

As a large commercial package, the show is designed to be integrated and visually effective as ‘a bit on the ready-made’ side. It would, though, be churlish not to recognize the director (Maya Handa Naff) for her handling of a work where the many good things are allowed to roll out gently in a most absorbable way. It would have been easy just to trot out the ironclad songs leaving the gap in between as no more than an opportunity to change costumes. The story is perhaps more serious than comic and needs to be allowed to reveal itself with dignity and charm. It certainly feels that way.

Catherine Reid’s choreography is, in many ways, the making of the show. It stamps upon the show a robust identity around a tale of a young lady who is on a search for hers. In a word, the choreo is stunning. It emboldens the actors to go on acting while dancing and vocalising, and not just lapse into a bland Greek chorus (as it were). The contribution of ‘I Do, I Do, I Do’ to the most dramatic moment of the piece will live long in memory. It artfully brings out those final bursts of ‘just belt out the songs’ musical energy that produce a justified standing ovation.

Hayden Taylor’s musical direction is massively fine. His invisible 9-piece band of musos keeps everything pounding along on all twelve cylinders. It rocks … and it rolls too. It respects the uniqueness of each song.

As for the costumes. Their design and colours are marvellous. Thank you, Lesley Burkes-Harding. One moment it is the pastels under the bright Mediterranean sun. Next you skilfully take us to 3-dimensional cabaret. The silver decked Dancing Queen trio that rampage through the final songs and encores is awe-inspiring.

Allied to that the whole look of the show fulfils all bullish expectations. The set and props man John Harding gives us a highly mobile set. One where each of the newly arriving characters tramps up what was once the orchestra pit next to a handy little jetty that re-enforces that we are all on an island. The taverna is neatly decrepit while the stylish and well-used double beds do yeoman service. Allied with William Smith’s meticulous and highly atmospheric lighting, it all feels so very right.

A show like this takes literally scores of moving parts and their names are set out in the excellent souvenir programme. So many names, so many roles, so much chipping away to make things just perfect; a beautifully balanced and heartfelt Mamma Mia.

No wonder the season was extended so quickly. Doubtless, many who were privileged to see it this week will be back for another dollop or two before it moves on.

[Photos by Hagen Hopkins]

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