There's only one reason why someone may not enjoy this feast of flourish. You've to hate the music of ABBA. And to hate ABBA you've to belong to another planet.The idea rocks. The ingenius screenwriter together a film that strings together a kaleidoscopic cluster of ABBA's most cherished numbers within a fey airy blithe-spririted plot of a young girl on a scenic island who invites three of her potential fathers to her wedding.Mama (mia) is the majestic Meryl letting her hair down, crooning one imperishable ABBA track after another as though her life depended on her ability to rustle up one or the other of the scintillating Swedish quartet's melodies at the drop of a hat.
Joining her in her journey into the region of abiding music-magic are her screen-friends who bring to the table a tempo and tenor that goes beyond the vibrancy enthusiasm and gusto of a homage to one of the most enduring pop-cultural phenoemena of all times.
Mama Mia is more. It tells us how music more than any other form of diversion and entertainment, can be cool and cathartic.
Naturally the plot is muslin-slender. And just as pretty to look at from the outside and inside. The songs pilot and manoeuvre the mellow magical characters into a state of suspended splendour.
The middleaged characters acquire a state of youthful exuberance as they jump on top of beds tables and rooftops to belt out one delightful nostalgia-soaked ABBA melody after another.
See Mama Mia not just as tribute to the music of ABBA. See it as the consummate treatise on the power of music to heal and nourish the soul.
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