Mama Mia Here We Go Again Parebtal Review
W atching the original Mamma Mia! in 2008, I had something approaching an out-of-body feel. Having initially scoffed at everything from the contrived join-the-pop songs plot to Pierce Brosnan's unique vocal stylings, I felt my feathery inner self depart from my dour exterior and outset dancing in the aisles. One minute I was a miserable critic; the side by side, everything had gone pink and fluffy. As I said at the time, never before had something so wrong felt so right.
A decade later, 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 Loftier Schoolhouse Musical-style rendition of When I Kissed the Teacher) before heading off on an endless holiday wherein she will try 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's vision (she had a dream!) with the newly renovated Hotel Bella Donna, while wrestling with the prospect of history repeating itself on this idyllic isle.
Every bit nosotros flip-bomb through the singalong hi-jinks, Hugh Skinner, Josh Dylan and Jeremy Irvine abound up to get Colin Firth, Stellan Skarsgård and Pierce Brosnan, while Jessica Keenan Wynn and Alexa Davies prove dab easily at essaying younger incarnations of dynamic duo Christine Baranski and Julie Walters.
Taking over the directorial reins, Ol Parker (who made Imagine Me & You lot and the underrated Now Is Good) delivers a slicker package 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. Alongside Parker, the credited writers include Richard Curtis, who may or may not exist responsible for such mail-4 Weddings zingers as "Be still my chirapsia vagina" and "It's called karma and it'southward pronounced 'Ha!"'
Nonetheless as before, the existent pleasure comes from the sublime agony of hearing your favourite Abba tunes crowbarred into the narrative in increasingly preposterous ways. Occasionally the twists are subtle (the whoopingly affirmative "woh woh woh" of Waterloo briefly becomes a commanding "whoa" – every bit in "end!" – during a restaurant seduction scene). More often they're laugh-out-loud ludicrous (the scene in which Cher calls Andy Garcia's Señor Cienfuegos past his first name evokes Ben Elton's script for We Will Rock You lot). Crucially, such creaks appear to be entirely knowing, encouraging us to express joy with the story, rather than at it – something I'thou not entirely sure was true of the original stage musical and picture show.
Information technology helps that the ensemble cast are extremely likable and admirably game; the lyrics to Dancing Queen may insist that "you lot tin trip the light fantastic toe, you can jive", but the fact that many of the men can do neither of the higher up doesn't cease them from having the time of their lives anyway. By contrast, the women are on top class – from Lily James, who could amuse the birds from the trees with her song-and-dance skills, to Julie Walters, whose brand of annotation-perfect physical one-act (it's all in the expressions and gestures) proves a reliable delight. Meanwhile, Omid Djalili is a scene-stealing hoot as a withering customs and passport command officer (NB: stay to the very end of the credits).
None of this would hateful a affair if Mamma Mia! Here We Go Once again didn't also 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 on, as James and co danced around a cameoing Björn Ulvaeus, so flowed freely as the hits connected, climaxing in a Dunkirk-way flotilla routine complete with a cheeky nod to Titanic, the film that the original Mamma Mia! famously outperformed at the UK box office.
Yet having always believed that Abba's greatest song was a melancholy gem from the Inflow LP, information technology was the spine-tingling reworking of My Love, My Life that hit me hardest. I wasn't just crying – I was convulsing with tears, desperately trying to cease myself from audibly sobbing. Seriously, the cease of Apocalypse Now proved less traumatic.
Much has changed in the 10 years since Mamma Mia! challenged my ideas of "good" and "bad" motion picture-making. I have certainly mellowed, and mayhap my critical faculties have withered and died. But I simply can't imagine how Mamma Mia! Hither We Go Again could be any meliorate than it is. I loved it to pieces and I can't expect to become again!
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Source: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jul/22/mamma-mia-here-we-go-again-review
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