There is an old adage that tells us all that is needed to put on a feel-good musical is a charming conceit, a collection of toe-tapping tunes and a couple of irresistible get up and dance musical numbers and the cash comes rolling in, right? It is a little more complicated than that, but in the case of the misbegotten "Mamma Mia!," one out of three isn't bad.
In spite of its threadbare plot, the uberpopular musical "Mamma Mia!" has managed to turn a lot of the pre-established rules of the musical genre on its head. The disciples of the still-running stage musical should be pleased to note that the big-screen adaptation remains faithful to the source material of a mother, daughter and three possible fathers singing and dancing their hearts out to a collection of timeless bubble-gum pop classics.
It is all here (the singing, the dancing, the musical numbers on steroids, the triumph of pop tunes to articulate each of our emotions), but I should point out that in the term source material, I do not mean a full-fledged dramatic piece of art that the songs hinge upon to illustrate the main action. The dramatic plot the songs hinge upon? Yeah, right. The presence of multi-dimensional characters that gets the audience to care about them? It ain't going to happen. The triple espresso musical numbers on steroids that get people on their feet? Cha-ching.
That is right, "Mamma Mia!" is a smörgåsbord of chart-topping pop tunes strung together for no other reason than to stage a series of elaborate giggle-infested song and dance numbers. It is peddling sunshine and happiness to the masses, but industrial strength good cheer is not enough to stop it from being the latest in a long line of popular musicals to crash and burn in the translation from stage to screen. It is unapologetic fluff alright, but the proceedings are such a full-scale disaster that it is hard to imagine the part that had theatergoers singing and dancing in the aisles all around the globe.
The incidental plot centers around soon-to-be-married bastard child Sophie (Amanda Seyfried), who invites the three men she learns her mother Donna (Meryl Streep) dated during the summer of Sophie’s conception to her Grecian-isle wedding. But Sophie doesn't tell her mom the three possible dads are coming to the proceedings and lots of singing, dancing and squealing ensues. The popular ABBA tunes "Mamma Mia," "Dancing Queen," "Super Trouper," "Take a Chance on Me," and of course, "Waterloo" are all here and on it goes until the climactic race to the church on time finish, the father is outed and someone else is too.
There are a lot of over caffeinated bridesmaids and a legion of interchangeable locals on the guest list and all of them seem to be busting out to release their inner dancing queen. Donna's best friends from her girl group days (Julie Walters and Christine Baranski) are also on hand and both of them offer support primarily through squealing in delight at Donna’s predicament and chasing inappropriate men around the island until it is time for another musical number.
The major gripe is the fact that the director, Phyllida Lloyd in her first screen outing, is clueless about the medium of film. This should be a lesson: do not hire stage directors that do not possess at least a fundamental understanding of directing. There are camera shots that don't match up, a lot of slo-mo and far too much blue screen behind the actors. The first half-hour is all about supposed adults hugging, screaming and turning into teenagers at the sight of each other, frantic cutting that undermines the musical numbers and an amateurish sitcom-ish tone that drains the life out of the songs.
The best moment in the interminable first half is Streep's high-spirited rendition of the finger-snapping title tune and it turns out the greatest actor of our time can also sing. This shouldn't come as too much of a surprise since she belted out a tune with a lot of panache at the end of 1990's "Postcards From the Edge" and besides, there is nothing she can't do.
This is undemanding stuff compared to her usual fare, but it is such a rare treat to see her dancing her heart out on top of a barn, doing cannonballs and belting out go-girl pop tunes that it is as though the audience is seeing the First Lady cutting loose at the Inaugural Ball.
The engaging Seyfreid (from "Mean Girls" and HBO's "Big Love") offers a lot of charm and presence despite the fact that her character is a distinct one-note ingénue on the page. The men aren't as fortunate. The potential dads (Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth and Stellan Skarsgård) should under no circumstances be permitted to sing in public again. In particular, Brosnan's singing resembles a bullfrog going through puberty and there is a palpable sense of dread each time he opens his mouth.
Things do get better in the home stretch, and after the truth comes out in the film's lengthiest dialogue sequence, the music gets into high gear for the fun-filled finale and stretches out through the closing credits.
It is the best part of the film. If the rest of it had been as good, it coulda been a contender. Instead, it is painful to sit through.
Casey Menninger is a freelance movie critic and a regular contributor to Richmond.com. He has been a movie fan since seeing Elliott and E.T. pedal across the moon in "E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial." He and his laptop can regularly be found at Starbucks.