There's no getting around that Mamma Mia! is -- as a friend who used to denigrate commercial Broadway product once put it -- crap.There's no defending it on artistic or intellectual grounds. It's a loud, glitzy excuse to shoehorn a bunch of ABBA songs into a ridiculous plot. Like so many new Broadway musicals, the show overwhelms the audience with volume, assuming that decibels will murder dissent. But is Mamma Mia! hateful? Far from it. The writers and performers are, if nothing else, cheerily blatant about the show's dumbness. Just watch how the estimable supporting actresses vamp and dare the audience to guess which song they'll sing next (it turns out to be the lovely, and hilariously choreographed, "Chiquitita").
Louise Pitre is a find as the mother confronted by three ex-lovers, any of whom might be the father of her marriage-minded daughter. No question, hearing a dozen ABBA songs puts those melodies in your head for a few days. Maybe if the volume weren't so shrill, we could even appreciate the show's copy-cat orchestrations, cribbed from Ulvaeus-Andersson's shimmering originals. Certainly the show's airy setting (including a touching, moonlit finale), and its brisk, goofy pace would be easier on the brain if it were easier on the ears.
