Like any musical Mahindra Colleges' version of Mamma Mia was presented as an ambitious extravaganza featuring a large cast, complex choreography and an exciting stage setting. This production cut costs a little and set a new benchmark for the idea of economy. The budget was so low that this reviewer’s check of the receipts shows that there was change from 500 rupees. The costumes for example were a steal as, apparently, was the guitar.
Unfortunately though this theatrical offering was more of a tragedy than a musical. Some of the singing was great and some was tragic, some of the acting was great and some was tragic. And so on.But did anyone care? Not this audience. Not these actors. Everyone had a truly wonderful time.
So some examination needs to be made of the criteria used by any critic. What should we admire? Do we demand only perfect skills and accomplishment in acting and music? Do we need to respond on an intellectual level to take home a powerful message to nurture and reflect on? Is it enough to engage the audience and dance around and have fun?[1] Is it the process and the spirit in which the actors nurture and support each other?
This event is best described as a satire of the genre rather than the real thing. In this way it echoed Phyllida Lloyd’s original film that contained the barest of plotlines, designed only as a vehicle for the actors and for the irritating insistence of the music of the ‘70s Scandi band Abba. On a more metaphorical level it mocked the frivolous side of college life, just as Karen’s April Fool’s Day satire mocked the school’s ‘Guiding Principles.’ Not surprisingly of course most members of the community preferred the obliqueness of the sugar-coated satire that Mamma Mia presented. At this level the performance worked perfectly well.
There was inevitably some confusion at the beginning. If members of the audience were not familiar with the story then it would seem very hard to establish what was happening. If you’d grown up on a remote island like Sibo, there was no reason you would be familiar with the film or Abba. The scenes changed so often that it was hard to interpret whether the pace of the play was directed by Power Cuts or whether the actors had merely stopped briefly to check the cricket scores. The introduction of abseiling skills on the walls around the stage added creatively to the drama.
All the actors deserved credit for their infectious enthusiasm and some for their bravery, and some for their skills. When the actors played themselves – the parts of the character that represented themselves – the audience responded with enthusiasm. When they acted the part that the plot demanded, they appeared more wooden and the audience was respectfully quieter.
Miika and Ricardo reached sublime heights in a variety of ways. The role of the Chorus in Greek tragedy is well understood and Mamma Mia’s chorus was no exception, directing and corralling the actions and thoughts of both characters and the audience. Their timely interventions gave a coherence to what could have been fragments of the story. Urbano looked interested in connecting with any of the girls on stage, but finally settled, just in time, for the well-meaning Trusha. If there was a star then it must have been Sanni, who grew in the role once she abandoned her Meryl Streep role. Given a choice between Rounak, Ricardo and Miika it might have been wiser for her to draw lots.
Maria and Gesa’s lesbian scene was the only deviation from the plotline of the original film and reflects Mahindra College’s fascination with gender identity. Perhaps a sequel could continue the exploration further through a pantomime of Priscilla Queen of the Desert, the film that first lampooned and glorified Abba’s music.
This reviewer felt that, while certainly not the most polished of performances, it was indeed most enjoyable . On this hill, under these stars, at this time, for this audience, it simply worked.
[1] It is an interesting by-line that the original meaning of the word Wada comes from the acronym of “We All Dance Around.”
Jack Forbes
Faculty TOK 
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