This is ABBA-solutely fatuous: a camp, spandex-thin celebration of friendship and a certain Swedish supergroup that starts from an implausible premise and gets steadily dafter. The debut play by actor Ian Hallard, who also stars, it details the foundation and demise of a gender-flipped ABBA tribute band in the West Midlands in 2015. Mamma Mia! Imagine that as a pitch to producers.
The show is inoffensive, insubstantial, very sporadically amusing and breezily directed by Mark Gatiss, who happens to be Hallard’s husband. After a tour and a run at the Park Theatre it now finds itself improbably filling a hole in the West End for a short run.
Old school chums Peter (Hallard) and waspish Edward (Anton Tweedale) accidentally hook up on Grindr. Edward was out and proud as a teenager: Peter was circumspect about his sexuality but an unashamed ABBA megafan. Edward is married to an older man, while Peter still cagily insists he’s bisexual on the basis of a teenage hetero encounter. “I had a falafel wrap for lunch,” observes Edward acidly. “Doesn’t make me a f***ing vegetarian.” That’s one of the better gags.
The two men didn’t fancy each other as teenagers and don’t now: indeed, they seem to have little in common besides school and sexuality. But in a wildly unlikely move they decide to put an act together to help out Peter’s lesbian stage manager friend Sally (Donna Berlin), who has an open slot at a local theatre after a cancellation.
To distinguish themselves from countless other ABBA soundalikes they decide to drag up as Agnetha and Anna-Frid, and to recruit squeaky blabbermouth Jodie (Rose Shalloo) as Bjorn and quirkily prim Scot Mrs Campbell (Sara Crowe) as Benny, the bearded “vague blob” behind the keyboards. Further stretching credulity, the band proves a success, but it is threatened by Christian (Andrew Horton), an Aussie whose ABBA obsession matches Peter’s, and a wrecker of relationships.
It’s utter nonsense from start to finish, though nerds will doubtless delight in the references to obscure songs (Head Over Heels, Move On) and ABBA arcana. The characters are thin and usually defined by a single characteristic, the relationships are unconvincing. The friendship between Sally and Peter is fractionally more believable than that between Peter and Edward. Crowe proves herself easily the best comic performer with her deft timing.
There’s no point in me giving too severe a kicking, though, to a show that so clearly knows its audience. Hallard’s script is good-hearted, soused with affection and nostalgia, and with the knowledge that ABBA fandom brings with it an embrace of naffness. It features the voices of Miriam Margolyes and the late Paul O’Grady as Peter’s Nan and a radio DJ. Hen dos and the hardcore ABBA-solutists should keep it alive for the next three weeks.
