Mamma Mia Here We Go Again Lyics
W atching the original Mamma Mia! in 2008, I had something budgeted an out-of-body experience. Having initially scoffed at everything from the contrived bring together-the-popular songs plot to Pierce Brosnan's unique vocal stylings, I felt my feathery inner self depart from my dour outside and start dancing in the aisles. Ane minute I was a miserable critic; the adjacent, everything had gone pinkish and fluffy. As I said at the time, never before had something and then wrong felt so right.
A decade later, this sequel-prequel hybrid (a surprisingly smart combination) produces similarly caput-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) earlier heading off on an countless holiday wherein she volition try on a pair of dungarees and a trio of handsome suitors. Meanwhile, in the present, Amanda Seyfried'due south Sophie is striving to fulfil her female parent'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 hi-jinks, Hugh Skinner, Josh Dylan and Jeremy Irvine grow upward to go Colin Firth, Stellan Skarsgård and Pierce Brosnan, while Jessica Keenan Wynn and Alexa Davies prove 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 Now Is Practiced) delivers a slicker package than Phyllida Lloyd's tape-breaking original, full 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 still my chirapsia vagina" and "It'due south chosen karma and it's pronounced 'Ha!"'
Yet equally 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" – as in "cease!" – during a restaurant seduction scene). More often they're express joy-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). Crucially, such creaks appear to exist entirely knowing, encouraging us to express joy with the story, rather than at it – something I'grand not entirely sure was truthful 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 can dance, you can jive", just the fact that many of the men can do neither of the above doesn't stop them from having the fourth dimension of their lives anyhow. By contrast, the women are on height form – from Lily James, who could charm the birds from the trees with her song-and-dance skills, to Julie Walters, whose make of note-perfect concrete comedy (information technology's all in the expressions and gestures) proves a reliable delight. Meanwhile, Omid Djalili is a scene-stealing hoot equally a withering community and passport command officer (NB: stay to the very stop of the credits).
None of this would mean a matter if Mamma Mia! Hither We Become Again didn't also pack an emotional dial, and I feel duty-bound to report 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-fashion flotilla routine consummate with a cheeky nod to Titanic, the film that the original Mamma Mia! famously outperformed at the UK box role.
However having always believed that Abba's greatest vocal was a melancholy gem from the Arrival LP, it was the spine-tingling reworking of My Beloved, My Life that striking me hardest. I wasn't merely 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" moving picture-making. I have certainly mellowed, and perhaps my critical faculties take withered and died. Merely I simply tin't imagine how Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again could be any improve than it is. I loved it to pieces and I can't wait to become again!
Source: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jul/22/mamma-mia-here-we-go-again-review
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