Mamma Mia Here We Go Again Sweater

W atching the original Mamma Mia! in 2008, I had something approaching an out-of-trunk 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 start dancing in the aisles. One minute I was a miserable critic; the adjacent, everything had gone pink and fluffy. Every bit I said at the time, never before had something and then wrong felt so correct.

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 High School Musical-style rendition of When I Kissed the Teacher) before heading off on an endless holiday wherein she will attempt 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'southward 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.

Every bit we flip-flop through the singalong hi-jinks, Hugh Skinner, Josh Dylan and Jeremy Irvine abound upward to become 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 and the underrated Now Is Good) delivers a slicker bundle than Phyllida Lloyd's record-breaking original, total of elegant 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 be responsible for such postal service-Four Weddings zingers as "Be nevertheless my beating vagina" and "It's called karma and it's pronounced 'Ha!"'

Yet as before, the real pleasance 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 "stop!" – during a eating house seduction scene). More than often they're express mirth-out-loud ludicrous (the scene in which Cher calls Andy Garcia's Señor Cienfuegos by his get-go name evokes Ben Elton's script for We Will Rock You). Crucially, such creaks announced to be entirely knowing, encouraging us to express joy with the story, rather than at it – something I'm non entirely sure was true of the original phase musical and film.

Cher and Andy Garcia in Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again.
Cher and Andy Garcia in Mamma Mia! Here Nosotros Become Over again. Photograph: Jonathan Prime/AP

Information technology helps that the ensemble cast are extremely likable and admirably game; the lyrics to Dancing Queen may insist that "you can dance, you tin can jive", but the fact that many of the men can do neither of the above doesn't stop them from having the time of their lives anyway. Past contrast, the women are on top grade – 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 (information technology's all in the expressions and gestures) proves a reliable please. Meanwhile, Omid Djalili is a scene-stealing hoot as a withering customs and passport control officer (NB: stay to the very end of the credits).

None of this would mean a thing if Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again didn't besides pack an emotional dial, and I experience duty-spring to report that I came out of the screening an utter wreck. The tears started early, equally James and co danced around a cameoing Björn Ulvaeus, and then flowed freely as the hits continued, climaxing in a Dunkirk-style flotilla routine complete with a cheeky nod to Titanic, the film that the original Mamma Mia! famously outperformed at the UK box office.

Still having always believed that Abba's greatest song was a melancholy gem from the Arrival LP, it 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 terminate myself from audibly sobbing. Seriously, the end of Apocalypse Now proved less traumatic.

Much has inverse in the ten years since Mamma Mia! challenged my ideas of "expert" and "bad" motion picture-making. I have certainly mellowed, and perhaps my critical faculties have withered and died. But I just can't imagine how Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again could be whatsoever better than it is. I loved information technology to pieces and I can't look to become again!

elliottwasat1979.blogspot.com

Source: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jul/22/mamma-mia-here-we-go-again-review

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