Cinema Hype

It’s not hard to see how the original Mamma Mia! came about—how you’d go from a well-loved 78 of ABBA Gold to a Broadway musical. You’re listening, and you’re thinking, “Man, wouldn’t it be great if all of these groovy ABBA songs made a story?” And then you’re in your beanbag chair, concentrating really hard, and you write it all down in your favorite spiral notebook, and then you grow up and become a famous Broadway producer, and you finally make the ABBA musical, because…well, because how can you not?

It’s not as easy to see exactly how the Mamma Mia! movie happened, how the flattish story and unconnected plot points made it to two hours on the big screen. Except that, well, everybody loves ABBA. Don’t they? We’ll make an exception for people who don’t like harmonies and hooks, and for people who don’t like silly dancing, and for people who don’t like Swedes, but then, we don’t really want to hang out with those people anyway. Everyone in Hollywood must love ABBA, because here we are. Wouldn’t you have loved to have seen those pitch meetings? I mean, come on.

So, nothing much happens? Correct. Character arcs don’t make any sense? Not really, no. Pierce Brosnan makes silly faces when he sings? Absolutely. If these are things that bother you, go see Space Chimps instead (or, better, learn to blame the musical). If you’re ready to put things like “depth of character” (pish!) and “realistic relationships” (tosh!) behind you, get thee to a multiplex, and bring your tallest shoes—platforms, obviously; what is this, Sex and the City?

Because this movie is all about the silliness and the music and the dancing, and in those areas, it excels. Just try not to fall in love with this particular rendition of “Dancing Queen”—it’s one of the best moments, sweet and funny and infectious and inspiring in a way that doesn’t totally make sense, which is maybe one of the hallmarks of a great musical. And maybe Meryl Streep wasn’t totally necessary here, but she’s always a welcome addition; she comes on a little strong—“manic hippie” suits her disturbingly well—and pulls her own weight musically, though she’s no virtuoso (virtuosa?). Of the three potential (former and future) love interests, Colin Firth is by far the least ridiculous, because he plays the guitar and can actually sing; Brosnan looks pained, and what’s happened to Stellan Skarsgard over the last decade is unclear. But it doesn’t matter: they’re there, and they’re shaking their things, and it is funny and sexy-ish, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into. And anyway they’re eclipsed by Christine Baranski and Julie Walters, scene-stealers both, and so all is forgiven. It seems like only the lovely future-mega-star Amanda Seyfried is playing the straight woman, but she’s up to the job (not that she can’t play silly; she does, after all have psychic boobs). It’s big and it’s rollicking and it might cause you—or others—to jump up and dance around the theater.

And THAT is when, as a musical producer, you know you’ve won.

Mamma Mia!, Mamma Mia, Mama Mia, ABBA, Abba, Meryl Streep, Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth, Stellan Skaarsgard, Amanda Seyfried, Christine Baranski, Julie Walters, musicals, movie reviews

I think I first knew I’d love Once when I watched the Oscars. “Falling Slowly” won for Best Song, and then there was that incident with Glen Hansard using all of Marketa Irglova’s talking time to give a wholly endearing victory speech, prompting Jon Stewart to let her come out and give her own adorable and inspirational remarks. I don’t have a ton of experience with low-budget Irish indie-music romantic dramas, but somehow this confluence of events—these people, rather—appealed to me.

Deep down, Once isn’t so far off the romance-movie track, complete with one especially improbably-lit scene involving a grand piano and an unfinished song. But then, if you can believe it, it’s also far simpler than most of what makes it to the theater: Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes boy, boy and girl record music together. Something like that. In fact, the straight-arrow plot is refreshing, considering the obvious and recitable formula we see in so many studio romances. Once lacks wacky friends, over-witty dialogue, and any kind of mid-wedding/pre-flight confrontation at the end—it turns that standard on its ear, actually—but instead, it has feeling and timing and a kind of quiet watchfulness that’s like a good, bittersweet folk song. (It’s also worth mentioning that this is a musical—not a massive dance-numbers-in-the-streets musical, but a story told through music. Be prepared.)

One of the best and most surprising parts of Once is how Hansard and Irglova—both professional musicians—wear the hat of “actor” so convincingly; neither comes across half as self-consciously as half the trained actors in Hollywood. If someone told me that Hansard—who looks, kind of hilariously, like a combination of Hugh Laurie and Dr. Cox from Scrubs—were the only lonely Irish musician in Dublin (or at least the loneliest Irish musician in Dublin), I’d probably believe it. Irglova sings and plays the piano beautifully, but even more importantly in this instance, she sparks. She’s the chemistry behind the movie; the light and warmth she brings to her onscreen relationship with Hansard isn’t far off from what she brings to their songs. This is a movie where the main characters don’t even have names (the credits call them “Boy” and “Girl”), but where character is built from the inside out and speaks without shouting, and the writing and acting mesh so that all the audience gets is ambience, in the best way.

Check out Once. You’ll get a song and a story stuck in your head, but you probably won’t mind too much.

Once, Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova, The Frames, folk music, Dublin, Irish movies, Oscars, Best Song, Falling Slowly, Jon Stewart, Hugh Laurie, Scrubs