I’m excited to announce a new project! I’m joining the podcast game with Cinema Italiano, a podcast dedicated to the Italian experience as told by film. More details and information coming soon, and can’t wait to explore the world of Italian cinema together with all of you!
This episode features the following music excerpts:
For a musical that’s over 50 years old and permanently fixed in the public consciousness (or at least, that of musical theater fans!), the new production of Hello, Dolly! that hit Broadway in 2017 and currently touring North America is undeniably fresh, funny, and delightfully entertaining.
A great deadpan, tongue-in-cheek humor carried out throughout the entire show, never making fun of or mocking the original source material. The early opening number “It Takes a Woman,” the intro song by romantic conquest-to-be Horace Vandergelder (Lewis J. Stadlen), is sung diagetically only to his employees Cornelius and Barnaby, but men pop out from every nook and cranny to join in the chorus, only to disappear and reappear someplace else for their next cue. Barnaby (Jess LeProtto), a hopelessly lovesick young man whose main aspiration is to kiss a girl, delivers his exclamations with a straight “Gee, whiz!”, “Oh, no!” without ever winking at the audience – he’s in it 100%.
And of course we can’t talk about the performances without the the one and only Dolly Levi, played to perfection with warmth, love, and kindness by the legendary Betty Buckley. She plays a matchmaker out to maneuver herself into Vandergelder’s arms, and she’s the one running the show (both in the narrative, and literally as its star player). Though even as the puppet master pulling the strings, she never condescends or looks down on the lovesick fools around her; she grants everyone a genuine respect and dignity.
As simple as it sounds, this has always been one of the keys to Hello, Dolly! for me; it’s a story of genuine decency, with good people, actively looking to improve their everyday lives into something better. There are no villains, only mismatches; we see (to comedic result) how badly two would-be suitors pair together, as people switch dinner tables, break off engagements, steal forbidden kisses all to find that right person. There is no malice, and no harm in pursuing one’s own happiness.
In the show’s title song, Dolly expresses her nostalgia for days gone by and yearning to get back to that feeling:
I feel the room swayin’ for the band’s playin’
One of my old favorite songs from way back when
So, bridge that gap, fellas, find me an empty lap, fellas
Dolly’ll never go away again.
There was a time in the past when things were better, and Dolly is on her way to regain the joy and satisfaction her life once had. And sometimes it takes the wrong choices to get back on track: whether it’s Cornelius’s dead-end job at Vandergelder’s shop, where he’s underpaid and undervalued; or Irene Malloy’s engagement to Vandergelder, only to find out he’s not the guy for her.
Hello, Dolly! would have taken place 100 years ago, and was a period piece even when it first hit the stage in the 1960s. Despite this time lapse, we can’t help but see ourselves in the places and characters before us though, with people leading lives that are satisfactory but could use room for improvement. Just like for the citizens of Yonkers, perhaps Dolly is here to give us all that push for something more.
Adam McKay’s Vice opens with a disclaimer: The following is a true story, but note that it’s based on an infamously secretive man, former Vice President Dick Cheney. Working with limited information, “we did our f***ing best.”
This half-assed attitude sets a surprisingly consistent tone throughout the whole film. Vice feels like a movie where they tried, but not very hard. Early on, Cheney (Christian Bale) as a young upstart White House intern falls under the wing of then-economic adviser Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell). Rumsfeld explains the rules of engagement to Cheney and how to navigate the river rapids of D.C. politics, told with a devilish glee and cynicism. Cheney asks, “What do we believe?” which cracks up Rumsfeld. “What do we believe.. that’s a good one!” he howls with laughter.
Writer-director Adam McKay goes out on a limb that Rumsfeld, and the political machine he’s a cog in, has no beliefs, and I guess we’re supposed to go along with that. Love him or hate him, he’s a power-hungry monster with no driving force beyond that. Even Cheney, as he rises in second-place prominence as the right-hand man of countless Republican figures, speaks only of power and how to best wield it. But power for what exactly?
The script strips these figures, despicable as they may be, of any depth or content to unpack and explore, which begs the question of why McKay made a film about them at all. If he’s not going to make an effort to understand (or at least explain) them, it’s unclear why he, and we, are undergoing a two-hour film rolling through such vacuousness.
I checked out of this live-action cartoon pretty early on, but couldn’t stop giggling as some of the sinister plot points unfolded: Cheney placing friends and colleagues throughout the executive branch, a PR firm researching and executing talking points that best resonate with the electorate, all while sinister music warns us of the impending doom.
The Bush-Cheney administration was apparently the first ever to exercise these tactics, and I wonder if McKay knows that subsequent administrations did the same. Another mystery is the script’s frequent bubbling up of the unitary executive theory: the idea that the president has sole power to control the executive branch, without any checks to stop him/her. Yes, this is a theory, but it’s all pinned as starting with Nixon, nor does McKay acknowledge another (better-known?) theory called the Imperial Presidency, which argues that as early as Lincoln, and certainly ramping up with Teddy Roosevelt, that the power of the executive has gradually increased throughout history, and those powers have never gone back to the legislature or other branches of government.
I don’t mean to sound hung up on this, but Vice overall is a pretty surface-level take on a very complicated, though understandably contentious figure. If we’re supposed to engage with a very negative telling of a much-hated politician, they should at least have made a better effort to contextualize his place in history, or make an effort to unpack what makes him tick beyond “power.” But I guess they tried their f***ing best.
Snubs: If Beale Street Could Talk, Mary Poppins Returns
Surprise: Vice, which has been polarizing – hard to picture it had enough #1 votes to make it in here.
Spike Lee (BlacKkKlansman)
Pawel Pawlikowski (Cold War)
Yorgos Lanthimos (The Favourite)
Alfonso Cuaron (Roma)
Adam McKay (Vice)
Snub: Bradley Cooper (A Star is Born)
Christian Bale (Vice)
Bradley Cooper (A Star is Born)
Willem Dafoe (At Eternity’s Gate)
Rami Malek (Bohemian Rhapsody)
Viggo Mortensen (Green Book)
Snub: John David Washington (BlacKkKlansman)
Surprise: Willem Dafoe (At Eternity’s Gate)
Yalitza Aparicio (Roma)
Glenn Close (The Wife)
Olivia Colman (The Favourite)
Lady Gaga (A Star is Born)
Melissa McCarthy (Can You Ever Forgive Me?)
Snub: Emily Blunt (Mary Poppins Returns). I was worried other aspects of the film would be taken for granted for how spot-on they embody the spirit of the original, and unfortunately this applied to its star as well, whose impeccable and lively portrayal of the superhero nanny deserves to be in the mix.
Best Supporting Actor
Mahershala Ali (Green Book)
Adam Driver (BlacKkKlansman)
Sam Elliott (A Star is Born)
Richard E. Grant (Can You Ever Forgive Me?)
Sam Rockwell (Vice)
Snub: Timothee Chalamet (Beautiful Boy)
Best Supporting Actress
Amy Adams (Vice)
Marina de Tavira (Roma)
Regina King (If Beale Street Could Talk)
Emma Stone (The Favourite)
Rachel Weisz (The Favourite)
Surprise: Marina de Tavira (Roma)
Best Original Screenplay
Surprise: First Reformed, which has been a hit critically but hadn’t made a big awards splash yet.
Best Adapted Screenplay
The Ballad of Buster Scruggs
Can You Ever Forgive Me?
If Beale Street Could Talk
A Star is Born
Surprise: The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, which hasn’t come up much in the awards conversation this year – great to see it recognized in a major category.
Best Animated Feature Film
Isle of Dogs
Ralph Breaks the Internet
Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse
Best Foreign Language Film
Never Look Away
Best Documentary – Feature
Hale County This Morning, This Evening
Minding the Gap
Of Fathers and Sons
Snubs: Three Identical Strangers, Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
Best Documentary – Short Subject
A Night at the Garden
Period. End of Sentence.
Best Live Action Short Film
Best Animated Short Film
One Small Step
Best Original Score
If Beale Street Could Talk
Isle of Dogs
Mary Poppins Returns
Best Original Song
“All the Stars” (Black Panther)
“I’ll Fight” (RBG)
“The Place Where Lost Things Go” (Mary Poppins Returns)
“Shallow” (A Star is Born)
“When a Cowboy Trades His Spurs for Wings” (The Ballad of Buster Scruggs)
Best Sound Editing
A Quiet Place
Best Sound Mixing
A Star is Born
Best Production Design
Mary Poppins Returns
Never Look Away
A Star is Born
Surprise: Never Look Away, which also hasn’t been part of the awards buzz machine.
Best Makeup and Hairstyling
Mary Queen of Scots
Best Costume Design
The Ballad of Buster Scruggs
Mary Poppins Returns
Mary Queen of Scots
Best Film Editing
Snubs: Roma, A Star is Born
Surprises: Bohemian Rhapsody, Vice. The Best Picture winner almost always comes out of this category, so it’s surprising (and not looking good) that two of the front-runners didn’t make it in here.
Death is one of the great mysteries of life. Faiths, cultures, and individuals around the world, across all time, have pondered and theorized about what awaits beyond our final breath. This challenging, mystifying concept is not only addressed, but also actively engaged with through Dante Alighieri’s epic poem Inferno and the Lee Unkich film Coco, both of which ease their audiences into the other realm through a narrative guide, bringing the hero from the mortal world into the hitherto unknown.
In the Inferno, Dante (as the narrator) is guided through Hell by the ancient poet Virgil. The appearance of three beasts forces Dante, a mortal, into a “lower place,” where he encounters the spirit of Virgil, who accompanies him through the underworld as his guide. The pair go through all the circles of hell, bearing witness to eternal punishment of sins from the least offensive to the most despicable. Compared to Virgil, who knows Hell well and has seen it all before, Dante is initially sympathetic and is filled with anguish for what he sees, but as they journey on, he comes to understand the sense of order and just punishment taking place, and feels no sorrow for the sinners he encounters. Dante’s Inferno, as a work, is also notable for the concept that the actions taken in one’s mortal life are proportional to what awaits in the next world. Dante is an outsider at first, but comes to know and accept the fantastical world he encounters.
In Unkrich’s film Coco, the role of Dante is flipped to that of guide, driving the action and pulling the protagonist through the different spaces of the afterlife. It is Dante who sets the plot into motion; he inspires Miguel to “seize [his] moment” when he helps himself to some mole from the Rivera family ofrenda, inadvertently knocking down the photo of Rivera family matriarch Mama Imelda, which triggers the living Mama Coco’s memory of her father (allegedly famed musician Ernesto de la Cruz), which Miguel takes as a sign to become a musician himself, and claim his great-great-grandfather’s guitar. The resulting magic causes Miguel to find himself transported to the realm of the dead, where it is Dante who pulls him from place to place, such as bringing together Miguel and Héctor, who also takes on the role of guide to Miguel. Between both worlds, living and dead, Dante is the alebrije spirit guide accompanying Miguel to pursue his destiny.
Both visions of the underworld reflect what took place prior to the afterlife. Dante’s Inferno inflicts punishment proportional to the sins committed on earth, from minor offenses to more serious, sacrilegious crimes. The nine circles of hell are cleanly divided to organize sinners to the right spheres they belong to. There is also a clearly defined order to the Land of the Dead in Coco, where one’s well-being in the afterlife is impacted by the living and the relationships fostered in the mortal life. The muertos bring back food, gifts, and other material objects from the world of the living, provided their loved ones dedicate any for them; this of course is dependent on how the living feel about the dead in question, and whether theirs is a memory worth honoring. Héctor finds himself coming short in this structure, with few belongings to his name and his memory fading fast from those still alive. The choices he made in life, for better or worse, impact the death that awaits him.
A humorous early moment in Coco features Mama Elena, Miguel’s grandmother, shooing away Dante and trying to teach her grandson a lesson: “Never name a street dog. They’ll follow you forever.” The Dante of the Inferno is certainly a follower, clinging to Virgil as they journey through Hell, while the Dante dog she throws her chancla (sandal) at turns out to be the guide to Miguel’s follower. In some ways, Coco could be a 21st century take on the Inferno; in both, the sins and actions taken in life have consequences that last well beyond the grave, but the emphasis in Coco are the implications for the family, beyond the individual. Dante’s Inferno paints a picture of the underworld full of miserable lost souls, without regard or understanding of others around them. What is committed in life is one’s own business, and whether or not someone ends up at the same place as a loved one is hardly addressed. In Coco‘s Land of the Dead, family is everything, and the greatest punishment over anything is an existence without family.
Both are fascinating texts, each with so much to offer and provoke around what comes after this life. As much as they are works to ease us into these unknown worlds through concrete, tangible means, they also reflect the values and priorities of the author guides who take us there.
2018 may be the year studios caught up with indie filmmakers.
We saw the first major studio film featuring an LGBT protagonist as the lead in Love, Simon. The popcorn-friendly MCU brought themes of structural inequality and national guilt to the masses in the global phenomenon Black Panther. Big budget sci-fi went existential horror with Annihilation.
And best of all, these were great movies. In the past few years, it felt like the balance of quality had tipped largely to the independent side (where, to be sure, filmmakers often have a larger degree of creative freedom) but these gutsier, more artistic sensibilities made their way into the studio system as the big players took “risks” on inclusion, social awareness, and complicated themes, and managed to turn out some terrific films.
As much as I’ve enjoyed my time in movie theaters this year, I’m a little sad why I have more time to go there – 2018 also saw the end of FilmStruck, the (now, apparently) too-good-to-be-true streaming service offered by the Criterion Collection and Turner Classic Movies. It was a tremendous digital cinema resource, enabling me to plow through many of the Italian films from Criterion (a personal goal of mine) as well as explore their proactive curation of films. I particularly enjoyed their selections for June 2018 (LGBTQ Pride Month), and discovered some great titles I hadn’t seen like The Watermelon Woman, The Bitter Tears of Petra Van Kant, and introduced me to the wacky world of Derek Jarman. It was a great product while it lasted, and I look forward to the return of the Criterion Channel soon. If it’s anything like FilmStruck was, there’s a lot to look forward to!
Anyway, without further ado, here’s a look back at my 2018 in film:
212 movies seen (0.58 per day, up from last year’s run rate of 0.52 per day)
First movie seen: The Big Sick (2017)
Last movie seen: The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945)
TOP 10 LIST:
A Star is Born – It’s funny that a movie concerning a veteran rocker and a rising pop singer is less about fame and celebrity than it is about love. I saw it three times in seven days, and each time was fully transported and engrossed in this intimate epic. No other movie this year followed the open road of love, in all its beauty and ugliness, quite as poignantly as this one.
Love, Simon – Love, Simon is not showy, flashy, or attention-grabbing. It is a well-crafted, heartfelt high school comedy that is extraordinary in its ordinariness. Weepy coming-out movies are a dime a dozen, but a quality teen studio movie featuring a gay lead is literally a “first” in 2018. Long after its trailblazing status is an asterisk in history, Love, Simon will continue to be a warm, reassuring movie to visit again and again.
Avengers: Infinity War – It may be surprising to place this above another MCU entry (which I also love), but Infinity War truly hit all the right notes for me, as both a stand-alone film and elevating established MCU heroes to their highest stakes and best moments to date. I’m moved to tears by the sacrifices by the Guardians of the Galaxy, feel the lightning adrenaline of Thor brandishing his shiny new ax, and am horrified by the gut-punch ending. This was a massive movie with dozens of stars and sky-high expectations, and they still pulled it off.
Annihilation – I ended up in this cerebral sci-fi as the “plan B” movie of the night, and I’m so glad I did. Possibly the scariest movie of the year, this wholly unsettling journey pits a team of soldiers against alien elements in a battle against time and an unknowable enemy. Alex Garland’s latest is haunting and unforgettable.
Incredibles 2 – Our favorite superhero family is back, in all their mid-century modern glory. The plot and new characters are twisty and occasionally hard to follow, but the ride is a ton of fun and Brad Bird’s intelligent script is endlessly entertaining and quotable. “Done properly, parenting can be a heroic act.”
Black Panther – This cultural phenomenon is possibly the most surprising, though deserving, hit of the year. Its uncomfortable themes of imperialist guilt and the obligations of those more fortunate are captured powerfully by Michael B. Jordan’s ruthless Killmonger, a villain both tragic and despicable. What’s also striking is how comparatively little T’Challa / Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman) himself is in it, compared to the impact by Killmonger and the delightful leading ladies of Wakanda: Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o), Okoye (Danai Gurira, who also steals her scenes in Infinity War), and Shuri (Leticia Wright).
Hereditary – Another spooky favorite, this (also genuinely horrifying) pick crawls under your skin, lays eggs, and tears you open when you least expect it. Toni Colette is deservedly earning praise for her knockout performance, and Alex Wolff is also noteworthy for his portrayal of her troubled son in this demented family drama.
Mary Poppins Returns – This delightful musical is one of those films where every element, from art direction, costume design, music, all the way to acting and performance, come together so harmoniously it’s easy to take for granted. Arguably more than the original, Mary Poppins Returns sets a clear through-line and each segment cleanly follows that trajectory, delivering memorable moments every step of the way. The finale is a warm reminder of just how magical the movies can be.
Suspiria – The third arthouse horror on the list (can you tell I’m a genre guy?), Suspiria is a big, gutsy, bloody bite into an iconic classic, but spits out an entirely new demon entirely. For its entire two-and-a-half-hour runtime, director Luca Guadagnino casts an unsettling, though surprisingly moving, spell with themes of motherhood, survivor’s guilt, and forgiveness all while trapping us in a Berlin dance academy run by witches. It’s insane on paper, it’s insane to watch, and it’s one of the year’s best.
The Nun – This feels a little goofy to include, but I’ve made my list and checked it twice, and can’t deny how much fun this fifth (!) Conjuring movie is. It’s not particularly scary, but it’s delightfully atmospheric, with more fog, candles, and shadows than you’ll know what to do with. Taissa Farmiga also shines playing against type as a likable character.
Note: There’s a handful of 2018 films still on my watch list, including Roma, Eighth Grade, Green Book, and Vice.
Notable Discoveries in 2018:
The Gospel According to St. Matthew
A Matter of Life and Death
Seduced and Abandoned
The Seventh Seal
The Young Girls of Rochefort
Women in Love
Love, Simon (4x)
Call Me By Your Name (3x)
A Star is Born (2018) (3x)
What were your favorite films & discoveries from 2018? Any special movie memories? Reply below in the comments!
This holiday season, as you and your loved ones decide which holiday classic, or new release, to experience together, the right choice may not be Vox Lux. It is deeply troubling, abrasive, and polarizing. It is also (unfortunately) very timely, haunting, and profoundly thought-provoking.
One foggy morning in 1999, tragedy strikes at a suburban middle school. A teen boy commits a horrific mass shooting. Music student Celeste survives, through painful physical therapy and a bullet permanently lodged in her spine. She and her older sister Ellie express their mourning through song, capturing the hearts, and attention, of their community and the nation. Celeste is snatched away and groomed for a life of pop stardom, plunging her into an adult world of drug use, physical intimacy, and a bitter cynicism beyond her teen years.
Her innocence and light is extinguished that horrible day, and she’s left bearing the scars the rest of her life. As the years pass, the sweet, artistic girl in music class is unrecognizable in the cruel, arrogant demeanor of adult Celeste (played to outrageous perfection by Natalie Portman). Closer to the present era, another tragedy strikes, and all eyes are on Celeste as to what her next move will be: cancel her hometown concert, speak out, or conduct business as usual. Her management asks her whether she’s going to perform tonight as planned, and Celeste shrugs it off, asserting that pop music makes people happy and keeps their mind away from reality.
Light and dark are presented both as a dichotomy, though invariably linked concepts throughout Vox Lux. At its narrative core, a traumatic act of evil is what spurs the initial artistic expression, or at least its introduction to the world. If the attack hadn’t taken place, would Celeste and Ellie have written such a beautiful song? And if they had, would they have had the world’s attention, and been catapulted to stardom?
The darkness is the fuel powering and driving the light, which is senselessly snuffed out by acts of cruelty and evil. Even in the present-day, Celeste is snappy with her daughter Albertine, practically a reincarnation of the optimistic girl Celeste once was. She is the result of an early encounter by young Celeste with a male rock star, itself a meeting that would never have taken place without the tragedy, or the access and platform it brought Celeste. Like a phoenix, from the darkness comes a new light, itself in danger of having its innocence destroyed by the adult world.
At first glance, Vox Lux feels so timely due to its disturbing content, not a stretch from what’s in the newspapers more and more often. But deeper to its core, it asks how we respond to such horrific acts of evil, and the imprint it can leave on the human spirit. We can let it consume us and allow it to spread, or we can confront it head-on, shining a light in the darkness.
When Lady Gaga’s The Monster Ball concert tour first hit amphitheaters in late 2009, it was hailed as transcending the traditional live music experience. While formally a rock concert, her breakout tour had equal components of underground dance rave (first-pumping fury with pulsating trance beats), experimental avant-garde filmmaking (projected as thought-provoking interludes between sets), and musical theater (complete with a story, characters, and recurring thematic elements). It expanded so far beyond the definition of a typical concert, it grew into a bedazzled, indescribable gem beyond classification.
The same, astoundingly, can be said for A Star is Born. Yes, it is a movie, and within the frame displays raw, adrenaline-fueled concert footage, behind the camera some excellent directorial finesse by first-timer Bradley Cooper, and on the soundtrack is some of the finest music Lady Gaga has ever recorded. This is more than a film triumph, but also a musical breakout (having flown to the top of the album charts and six of the top ten songs on iTunes), and showcases incredibly talented artists working at the top of their crafts.
The editing is both powerful and purposeful: coasting through plot formalities and allowing breathing room so intimate moments can play out organically. The acting is natural and authentic, with uncomfortably long beats as the characters struggle to articulate themselves, or swallow their tongues in the midst of an emotional exchange. The cinematography is inspired, often keeping us medium length from the action but always focused on a character; we are on this road tour with them and see the world through their eyes.
And what a journey it is. It doesn’t take long for rocker Jackson Maine (Bradley Cooper) to discover Ally (Lady Gaga) as the lone female singer in a drag bar. From then on, she becomes his muse, collaborator, and even eclipses his fame as his star beings to fade. Through all its ups and downs, Cooper and Gaga are equals for the entire ride. It is an exciting meta journey to watch these two work together, as fictional characters, knowing (in real life) how both are stretching their creative chops into new territory: Cooper as a first-time director, and not known for being a singer, and Gaga in her first starring role in a feature film.
Though even more than seeing two exceptionally talented people command the screen (and what happens behind the camera), A Star is Born is an emotionally involving, wonderfully intimate love story. As painful and trying as love can be, this is a film that asks us how much we can put up with, and how far we will go, to defend the honor of those we care for. Two individuals who share one heart are together for the ride, no matter where the road might take them. That’s the challenge, the threat, and the exciting possibility of love. A Star is Born shows us all the bumps in the road, but reminds us how worthwhile the journey still is.
I’m off the deep end
Watch as I dive in
I’ll never meet the ground
Crash through the surface
Where they can’t hurt us
We’re far from the shallow now
A collection of foreigners, scattered across the globe, gather together on a remote island. The accusation of a love affair between professor and pupil. Free love is a bargaining tool to get from one place to another. Is this challenging, arthouse cinema? No, it’s friggin’ Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again.
This sequel has been on my radar for a while; I really enjoyed the stage musical and I saw the first film twice in its opening weekend ten years ago. But time and space matter not in the Mamma Mia!-verse, as I have come to learn since seeing the sequel less than one day ago.
I was first intrigued by the device of time by the “payoff” poster revealed a few weeks prior to the movie’s release: a dock featuring the entire cast, including “doubles” of characters in their past and present iterations. I was, admittedly, bothered and a little confused that two Donnas, two Tanyas, two Rosies, and two of all the guys were somehow gathered together, somehow transcended time and space to gather together for this group photo.
As I reflect on this cinematic journey though, my frustration may have been unfair and unfounded. I thought it a silly oversight somehow – maybe the graphic designer didn’t know they were two separate generations of the same characters, and why would they be together all at once. I never once considered it was deliberate, perhaps even foreshadowing.
You see, timelines in the Mamma Mia!-verse are more fluid than the lovely vocals of ABBA. The sequel Here We Go Again is both prequel and sequel, following Sophie as a young married woman, and also flashing back to her mom Donna after she graduates from college and underwent an international sexual awakening. We’re supposed to see parallels between the two narratives, and this is reiterated many times visually: a camera panning up to the sun-kissed sky in one time line, then scrolling back down in another place and time altogether; sliding down a staircase with the carefree young Donna, decades before Sophie descends down the very same steps; and, very memorably, one of them throws up into the toilet, and the camera pans out to reveal the other. Like mother, like daughter indeed!
Time is completely shattered, however, come the polyester-drenched finale number “Super Trooper,” featuring young Donna, Tanya, Rosie; adult Donna, Tanya, Rosie; young Sam, Bill, Harry; adult Sam, Bill, Harry; and of course Sophie and Cher are there too. The youthful and more senior Tanyas even slither back-to-back, sing in the other’s face, and look one another in the eyes. Even more astounding is their sheer coolness about it; they are neither surprised nor confused about seeing the younger/older version of themselves, as if crossing time to be with oneself at another age were perfectly natural.
Making the unnatural natural may be the underlying conceit, or perhaps message, of Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again. Just as the plot is wrapping up with a bow at the end, a cameo by Cher (in an insane wig) helps launch the film back into the stratosphere, complete with artificial backdrops and even CGI fireworks to top it all off. The levels of artifice skyrocket and keep elevating to otherworldly levels, so perhaps the bending of time is simply the next natural phase of this inter-dimensional phenomenon.
Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again doesn’t offer the horrors of other recent sci-fi like Annihilation, though its visual workings and time leaps are truly something out of this world. I’m not sure I could say I enjoyed it, but I admire its sheer audacity and how it challenges (or maybe just disregards) standards of continuity and logic in the service of ABBA. I know I sure would.