In a moment of weakness today, I saw the film in the Loews theater on Boston Common (one of America's greatest movie houses.) I have three basic observations:
1. Pierce Brosnan can't sing to save his life.
2. Meryl Streep can--indeed, the film demonstrates once again that she can do pretty much anything.
3. Behind the often insipid lyrics, Abba's music was original, inventive, and infectious--as everybody but music snobs has always known.
Near the end, the film makes a fleeting, subtle reference to modern DNA technology, an indication that today's audiences need to have all the threads of the plot tied up, or at least be reassured that they could be.