Abba, The Crown, and Deepfake Entertainment

“How does it feel to see the future?”

So when I pick a Abba Travel Souvenir T-shirt. “This is the future of entertainment,” she said of the show I just watched, with mystery and awe on her face. “I think so,” I replied as I handed over my card. She might be right, but I’m more remorseful than ecstatic.

Don’t get me wrong: Abba Travel, the live arena event currently occupying Pudding Mill Lane at the end of East London is nothing short of a miracle. In a dizzying technological rebirth, the Swedish supergroup is reborn back in 1977 as the extraordinary “Abatar”. As if by magic, the whole spectacle is completely bewildering. Despite the occasional bumpy syncopation of the Sims characters on these figures (and the band’s voice and body movements mimicked by the band members, who are now in their seventies), the voyage is a dizzying miracle.

I felt overwhelmed with happiness and nostalgia as I joined the audience on a steamy rendition of “Fernando” on a steamy Monday night. I embrace the energy of hen night, dance down the aisle, and channel my inner Agnetha. My daughter is a huge Abba fan and she’s getting hoarse from singing with all her might. As I was traveling home on the Docklands light rail, I wondered if I could take serotonin.

Who needs real bodies on stage when you can build convincing simulants?

But do I see the future of entertainment? I wish I hadn’t. Apparently music executives all over the world are now planning holographic extravaganzas, and at £100+ per ticket, Abba Travel Business models are addictive. I can only imagine the 40 million Licks we might see from the Rolling Stones in the future. Unlike the 3D mania of filmmakers about a decade ago, the concept of live performances is about to enter a new era.

Like so many things we live in right now, this is the age of deepfake entertainment. With the film industry’s acquiescence to the Marvel Universe and the ubiquity of gaming aesthetics, it’s only a matter of time before live performances become objects of technological manipulation. Who needs real bodies on stage when you can build convincing simulants? Why destroy your vocal chords during a punishing residency when you can play it on tape?

Even harder to replicate is the euphoric mood that only Abba fans can bring. I imagine the excitement for music holograms may burn, but fall out of favor quickly. More enduring, however, is how blurred our cultural reality has become. We are cautious about the veracity of our news (witness this week’s false positives of a Polish missile attack). But deepfake entertainment has now permeated every aspect of culture.

Whether CGI, blue screen, holographic or pure fiction, the line between real and imagined is blurred in entertaining chopped salads. It’s especially pernicious in shows that present events as true history.Series 90 crown Arriving last week was accompanied by a barrage of complaints about the series’ wildly fictional diversion. Former prime minister John Major has vehemently denied meeting King Charles to discuss the then-prince’s frustrations with his succession. (He doesn’t seem too concerned about the cast of Jonny Lee Miller, who brings uncomfortably sexy glamour to even the darkest of political leaders). Complaining about misrepresentation seems pointless at this point in the Netflix series. But it’s frustrating that audiences are increasingly less concerned with authenticity in their fiction.

We seem to be caught in a cycle that places a high value on making things “look” real. Whether it’s Dominic West in the right tweed or a laser-cut Abba, as long as everything looks right, we don’t seem to care much about substance.On TikTok I watch compare and contrast videos where you can watch dramatic reenactments crown (and other “true stories”) alongside videos of contemporary live footage. The parody, wardrobe, and tone of voice are all so good that you hardly know which one is real. Entertainment has become a bizarre hybrid in which the gap between the virtual and the real shrinks to the width of a hair.

But while many are now exploring the limits of what can be done to change audience perceptions, there are also a growing number who still crave the tangible and the real.

As I write this, I’m in the pre-sale queue hoping to snag tickets to Blur, who will play a solo concert at Wembley Stadium next summer. The last time the band played a full repertoire together was in 2015, and a reunion over the years seemed unthinkable. Pulp also announced a string of dates after not playing together for nearly a decade. The band’s sudden announcement of next year’s date has the pulse of a million Britpops racing. See Damon, Alex, Graham and Dave on stage again? That would really be a miracle.

jo.ellison@ft.com