I saw it only once, but memorably early, two and a half weeks after 9/11, and still remember how much it meant to everyone inside the Winter Garden that odd night. I sat near the late great Governor Anne Richards of Texas. Even after giving ourselves over to the first act, the loud entr'act frightened the house, and then we giggled nervously and guiltily. That's how on edge NYC was. How hard it was to find a collective tone in a response to anything. The show's silliness was a balm, and it pushed people to reconnect, smile, again if guiltily, to stand, breathe, feel alive and in a great place -- a Broadway theater in a still extraordinary if deeply wounded city -- at a scary moment, during weeks when no one knew if New York could rebound, let alone do so with needed predictability. I remember vividly how no one knew what sort of recovery would come, what it would look like, when or if. So "Mama Mia" -- loudly, aggressively entertaining, joyously demanding our participation in a shared cultural experience, asking that we embrace its pleasures, holds a very special place in my heart. I was never tempted to go back. That weeknight, the warm, still air in Times Square fouled still from the unspeakable tragedy, we all walked out and maybe -- only maybe -- thought: "we will get through this." "Mama Mia" went on to represent many other things. Yet for some, it remains a healing part of an era unlike any other. Farewell, impact not forgotten.
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling
Updated On: 9/13/15 at 09:21 PM