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Time Out
02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Time Out
Mamma Mia! The Party
For the price of a ticket to 'Mamma Mia! The Party', an immersive Abba-themed dinner experience set in a ropey taverna on an idyllic Greek island, you could fly out to an actual idyllic Greek island and probably find a ropey taverna playing Abba songs. Okay, there are some practical reasons why you probably wouldn't do that on a school night. And sure, it's not like these are the only expensive theatre tickets in town. But the fact is most London theatre shows have a bottom price of £15 or thereabouts; 'Mamma Mia! The Party' starts ten times higher than that. Of course, dinner theatre is a somewhat different game to theatre theatre. And the fact is that there are plenty of people who can afford it: the London debut of 'Mamma Mia! The Party' is a roaring sellout success already. Masterminded by Abba's Björn Ulvaeus, it's an established hit back in Stockholm. Which is not really a surprise: people love Abba, and 'Mamma Mia! The Party', though not formally affiliated to 'Mamma Mia!' (the blockbuster musical), is pretty much the same idea, except with the plot mostly replaced by food. After a prodigious wait to get in, we're spirited away to an attractive, convivial mock-up of a taverna on the island of Skopelos, where the 'Mamma Mia!' movie was filmed. The wittiest touch of the whole production is to make it 'post' the film: the walls are bedecked with dodgy mocked-up Polaroids of the cast of the show posing with Meryl Streep et al, and the wafer-thin plot revolves around the premise that British make-up artist Kate (Steph Parry) fell for local restaurateur Nikos (Fed Zanni) when she was working on the film, and stayed. Most of the show sees them bickering over the burgeoning romance between her nephew and his daughter from his first marriage, which she is all for, and he is against, in very flouncy Mediterranean fashion. It is extremely pantomime, down to the cheesy audience interaction and the jokes by Sandi Toksvig (who has adapted the original Swedish script). Obviously nobody cares about the plot, though. There is a three-course Greek meal, which is pretty good (really great tomatoes – like, REALLY great) and a lot of Abba songs. There are, to be precise, 35 Abba songs, if you count the fact they do 'Mamma Mia', the song, twice. This is clearly good news if you like Abba, which presumably you do. And the performances are mostly a hoot, performed with a campy élan that sees the waiting staff break out into set-piece dance routines, accompanied by the deployment of various bells and whistles, including, at one point, pyro that comes out of the fountain in the centre of the room. What can I say? I had fun, but I couldn't get that price tag out of my head: you're effectively paying for an expensive simulation of a cheap night out. Personally, I think it's preposterous, but at the end of the day it's your money, money, money.
New York Times
28-03-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Ode to a Gen-Z Situationship
I met Jacob at an overcrowded Abba-themed dance night. He was wearing a faux-fur head wrap. He seemed so young. I was 33. Still, I thought he was cute. When we locked eyes on the smoking patio, I thought the feeling was mutual. We got to chatting. Jacob said he worked 'in music,' which I took to mean he sometimes played the guitar. He asked what I did, and I brushed off the question. I didn't feel like talking about work. A week earlier, my ex had moved out of our apartment. After six years together, he said, 'Anna, I don't think this is working.' And just like that, we were over. There were plenty of reasons. We argued too much, had different timelines for children. And then there was the sex — or lack thereof. Couples therapy helped with the arguing but not the intimacy. When he finally handed me his key, I sat in my half-empty apartment and cried. Now, with Jacob, I thought about how most of my friends were starting families and buying houses. And here I was at Abba Night, drinking a vodka soda. He asked for my number. I gave it to him, not expecting much. The next day, he asked if I wanted to get a drink. We met for margaritas. I was early. I realized that I barely remembered his face. All I knew was that he seemed young. As I waited at the bar, I wondered just how young. Finally, he appeared, looking like he was dressed for Coachella — baggy cargo pants and chunky, layered necklaces. I could barely meet his gaze. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
