Did Mama Mia Here We Go Again Do Well
W atching the original Mamma Mia! in 2008, I had something approaching an out-of-torso experience. Having initially scoffed at everything from the contrived join-the-pop songs plot to Pierce Brosnan'south unique song stylings, I felt my feathery inner cocky depart from my dour exterior and showtime dancing in the aisles. One infinitesimal I was a miserable critic; the next, everything had gone pink and fluffy. Every bit I said at the time, never earlier had something so wrong felt so right.
A decade afterward, this sequel-prequel hybrid (a surprisingly smart combination) produces similarly head-spinning results. In the 1979 sequences, Lily James plays the young Donna, graduating from Oxford (via a High School Musical-mode rendition of When I Kissed the Instructor) before heading off on an endless holiday wherein she volition endeavor on a pair of dungarees and a trio of handsome suitors. Meanwhile, in the present, Amanda Seyfried's Sophie is striving to fulfil her mother'due south vision (she had a dream!) with the newly renovated Hotel Bella Donna, while wrestling with the prospect of history repeating itself on this idyllic island.
As we flip-flop through the singalong howdy-jinks, Hugh Skinner, Josh Dylan and Jeremy Irvine grow up to go Colin Firth, Stellan Skarsgård and Pierce Brosnan, while Jessica Keenan Wynn and Alexa Davies testify dab hands at essaying younger incarnations of dynamic duo Christine Baranski and Julie Walters.
Taking over the directorial reins, Ol Parker (who made Imagine Me & You and the underrated At present Is Skilful) delivers a slicker bundle than Phyllida Lloyd's record-breaking original, full of elegant photographic camera moves, snappy choreography and mirrored shots juxtaposing disparate frames, both temporal and spatial. Aslope Parker, the credited writers include Richard Curtis, who may or may not be responsible for such post-Four Weddings zingers equally "Exist still my chirapsia vagina" and "Information technology'due south called karma and it's pronounced 'Ha!"'
Yet as before, the real pleasance comes from the sublime desperation of hearing your favourite Abba tunes crowbarred into the narrative in increasingly preposterous means. Occasionally the twists are subtle (the whoopingly affirmative "woh woh woh" of Waterloo briefly becomes a commanding "whoa" – as in "cease!" – during a restaurant seduction scene). More often they're laugh-out-loud ludicrous (the scene in which Cher calls Andy Garcia's Señor Cienfuegos by his start name evokes Ben Elton's script for Nosotros Will Rock You). Crucially, such creaks appear to be entirely knowing, encouraging us to laugh with the story, rather than at it – something I'm not entirely sure was true of the original stage musical and motion-picture show.
Information technology helps that the ensemble cast are extremely likable and admirably game; the lyrics to Dancing Queen may insist that "you tin dance, you can jive", just the fact that many of the men tin can do neither of the above doesn't stop them from having the time of their lives anyway. By dissimilarity, the women are on top form – from Lily James, who could charm the birds from the trees with her song-and-dance skills, to Julie Walters, whose brand of note-perfect physical comedy (it's all in the expressions and gestures) proves a reliable delight. Meanwhile, Omid Djalili is a scene-stealing hoot as a withering community and passport command officeholder (NB: stay to the very end of the credits).
None of this would hateful a thing if Mamma Mia! Here We Become Again didn't besides pack an emotional punch, and I feel duty-bound to study that I came out of the screening an utter wreck. The tears started early, as James and co danced around a cameoing Björn Ulvaeus, then flowed freely as the hits continued, climaxing in a Dunkirk-mode flotilla routine complete with a cheeky nod to Titanic, the film that the original Mamma Mia! famously outperformed at the UK box role.
Withal having always believed that Abba'southward greatest song was a melancholy jewel from the Arrival LP, it was the spine-tingling reworking of My Love, My Life that hit me hardest. I wasn't simply crying – I was convulsing with tears, desperately trying to stop myself from audibly sobbing. Seriously, the end of Apocalypse Now proved less traumatic.
Much has changed in the 10 years since Mamma Mia! challenged my ideas of "good" and "bad" film-making. I take certainly mellowed, and perhaps my critical faculties have withered and died. But I only can't imagine how Mamma Mia! Here We Get Again could exist whatever amend than it is. I loved information technology to pieces and I tin't wait to become over again!
Source: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jul/22/mamma-mia-here-we-go-again-review
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