There is a reason Mamma Mia! has endured for a quarter-century, crossed languages and continents, and remained impervious to shifting theatrical fashions. Its glossy Greek-island fantasy and irresistible ABBA playlist are obvious parts of the equation. But this lively national tour at the Ahmanson Theatre makes an even stronger case for the musical’s staying power: beneath the sequins, platform boots, and pop euphoria lies a story about people choosing tenderness over resentment.
At a moment when the daily news stream seems engineered to keep us agitated, divided, and suspicious of one another, Mamma Mia! offers a few hours in a universe where mistakes are real but cruelty is not the default. Its innocence is not naïveté. It is a belief that people can disappoint one another, forgive one another, and still show up with love when it matters.
Jessica Crouch’s Donna Sheridan, Jalynn Steele’s Tanya, and Carly Sakolove’s Rosie are the comic, wild-beating pulse of the production. Together, they make Donna and the Dynamos the show’s most potent source of momentum, mischief, and sheer theatrical electricity.
Crouch gives Donna a terrific blend of toughness, vulnerability, and lived-in charisma; she can turn a song into a defiant anthem, then let the emotional cost beneath the bravado quietly surface. Steele’s Tanya is sleek, sharp, and hilariously self-possessed, while Sakolove’s Rosie has the gift of making every punch line feel both spontaneous and expertly aimed.
Their collective energy is the evening’s finest highlight. Whenever the three women unite, the show seems to gather speed and color. Their friendship is not merely a nostalgic souvenir from an earlier, wilder era. It is a living force: affectionate, ridiculous, loyal, and deeply sustaining.
In a culture that often frames aging women as peripheral figures, Donna and the Dynamos are gloriously central. They own the stage because they have earned every laugh, every scar, and every moment of joy.
Everyone in the cast is excellent. Victor Wallace, Leland Burnett, and Rob Hancock bring warmth and good humor to the three possible fathers, avoiding the easy trap of turning the men into mere comic props. The younger performers bring vitality and romantic sparkle, especially in the ensemble-driven numbers. Yet no one keeps the production aloft quite like the original Dynamos.
At the emotional center is Juliette M. Ojeda’s Sophie Sheridan. Ojeda’s Sophie has an openhearted sincerity that grounds the show’s frothier pleasures. Her search to identify her father is not simply a wedding-weekend complication; it is a young person’s longing for completion and wholeness in a world that can feel fractured. Sophie wants her story to make sense. Ojeda makes us feel the ache inside that desire.
Director Phyllida Lloyd’s production does not apologize for its buoyancy, and it should not. Mamma Mia! leaves the audience humming, smiling, and perhaps a little more willing to believe in one another. In a cynical time, that simple faith feels almost radical.
