ABBA play London in the fourth dimension (2024)

At the end of the first song, as fans were loving the incredible technological feat of the beginning of the concert, Benny Andersson presented a conundrum that sent everyone's heads spinning: "To be or not to be? That's no longer the question." The ABBA star addressing the 3,000 or so jubilant spectators with a faint smile was only 33 years old. He looked as real as life itself, but this version only existed as a hologram or, to be exact, a three-dimensional projection of a computer-generated image. The concert management insisted against using the word "hologram."

Whatever the technology, it worked. For an hour and a half, ABBA was on stage, dancing, singing, thrilling the crowd. But not just any ABBA: the four members of the Swedish band, now in 2022 aged 72 to 77, appeared with their 1979 outfits and faces, when they were the hottest sensation. Everything was on cue: the disco clothes, the unbeatable hits (Mamma Mia!, Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!, The Winner Takes It All...) and the irresistible urge to dance.

From the audience, it was almost impossible to tell that the four characters moving around the stage were not actually there. Between songs, they talked to the audience, took breaks, and made jokes for the fans. Only the close-ups displayed on the giant screens and mixed with other graphics were reminiscent of a video game and slightly too smooth to look real. But these little details were easy to forget between the spectacular light show, the pumped up volume and the simple pleasure of seeing one of the most famous pop groups in history. "To be or not to be" was indeed no longer the question; ABBA had invited concert goers into the fourth dimension: time.

A virtual goldmine

"The last time we played in London was in 1979," Benny Andersson's avatar reminded the crowd. The majority of the crowd was old enough to remember. In the hall, the grey-haired music devotees clapped their hands, the bald strutted, parents had brought their adult children to do the Dancing Queen together.

Debra Leigh and Orna Rowson were 12 and 16 years old when ABBA was at its peak. They were too young to see them in person. "It was the big concert I missed," Orna said, enthralled by the performance. She was already looking forward to the future: "After ABBA, I am sure the next concert of this kind will be the Beatles or Queen." A new lucrative business has been born: with tickets that can exceed 150 euros, hotel packages close to 400 euros, and a glass of wine at the entrance at 8 euros, ABBA will find their project very profitable.

Somewhere between a 3-D movie and an amusem*nt park

This phenomenal business idea was born five years ago, initially based on holograms then on a technology developed by the special effects company Industrial Light & Magic (ILM), and also used in series and films like Ultraman and The Batman. For five weeks, the four members of ABBA were filmed by 160 cameras while singing, dressed in special suits full of sensors. This "real" base was then digitally transformed: hips were slimmed down, wrinkles erased, and the years were rolled back. "That's the magic of this experiment," said Ludvig Andersson, the show's co-producer and Benny's son. "When you see this show, it's not a copy or people pretending to be ABBA. It's really them."

A building has been built especially for the occasion. The ABBA Arena, located in the former Olympic Park in London, all wood and right angles, is a beautiful architectural achievement that probably houses a technological monster in its bowels. The show is more than a concert, it is somewhere between a 3-D cinema (with two "sessions" per day on weekends) and an amusem*nt park. A tour of this whole construct would be too complicated to organize, so it is not on the agenda for the time being.

Like watching a movie

The crowd was won over before they'd even arrived and the hits were duly served up. The new songs did not work as well, with a crowd that simply wanted to travel to a late 1970s time capsule, as one enjoys a sweet treat. After the stunning first few minutes, the magic cracked slightly. A real band was on stage to counter the feeling of watching a movie but several songs were only accompanied by a cartoon, without the four avatars.

ABBA decided to give a nod to their 1974 Eurovision contest appearance, when the group was suddenly revealed to the world with Waterloo. To do this, they simply projected clips from that time and the impression of being taken out of the concert and watching a documentary gradually crept in. Maybe the realism was deliberate, a moment taken to remind us that this breathtaking show was not real.

At the end of the show, in a final twist, the four "real" members of the group appeared to greet the crowd. The wrinkles were back, the backs slightly bent. Yet these figures too were simple computer-generated images. The crowd didn't mind and applauded wildly. They knew all too well that they were greeting video images of people who were neither present nor real. But did reality matter?