Death Becomes Her

Deliciously Dark Death Becomes Her gets Better with Age

by Kristin Battestella

"Mad?"

"Hel!"

Writer Helen Sharp's (Goldie Hawn) plastic surgeon fiance Ernest Menville (Bruce Willis) thinks Helen's childhood friend Madeline Ashton (Meryl Streep) is an amazing starlet. Madeline has stolen Helen's beaus previously and does so again, but fourteen years later, Helen achieves her revenge by looking stunning and wooing Ernest into her killer plans. Madeline will do whatever she can to compete – including visiting the mysterious Lisle von Rhoman (Isabella Rossellini) for a youthful elixir. Unfortunately, the costly potion leads to bodily disasters if you don't take care of your beauty, and unlike these desperate ladies trying to stay forever young, the 1992 dark comedy Death Becomes Her only gets better with age.

Director Robert Zemeckis (Back to the Future) and writers Martin Donovan (Apartment Zero) and David Koepp (War of the Worlds) open the surprisingly PG-13 Death Becomes Her with 1978 not so well received ritzy as Playbills are tossed aside and stage glory turns sour thanks to show within in a show awkward performances, bad choreography, caricatures on youth, and phony songs about you. Flirtatious winks, polite shade, through the teeth comebacks, and backhanded compliments are played straight as your frienemy steals your man, and Death Becomes Her wastes no time with back stabbing wedding bells and revenge decades in the planning leading to book party invitations and who's looking swell versus who's looking worse for the wear changes. The man looming above the frame is reflected in the mirror behind the woman – reverse revealing the personal disconnect as each says things they don't mean alongside more symbolism and aggressive gestures. Hellish characters and murderous plans are both deliberate and measured yet flippant and off the cuff as our plastic surgeon is dismissed as a ghoul for not healing but indulging vanity even in death. More quirky visuals layer the Hollywood commentary – what's with that guy upside on the wheel at the spa? – and reflective camera shots create viewer double take. What if we did look twice and really paid attention beyond face value then what would we see? Death Becomes Her winks at the secret opportunities available to the elite behind closed doors amid insular they know that we know that they know that we know flattery. Confidence only comes with beauty, and the camera's distorted angles and askew perceptions reiterate this frame of mind as wide shots have the face in the center but the subject at hand in the background. With such in camera staging, one need not resort to fast paced editing later to compensate and piece together wit or tension because the bags full of makeup, screams over seeing oneself in the mirror without said makeup, and fake tears sprayed in the eyes while practicing crocodile speeches – in the mirror framed by defaced pictures of her obsession – speak for themselves. One woman equals sex while another demeans flaccid, and cuckold phrases reiterate the servile men and obedient dogs as demented one liners, frantic questions, and disturbing calm lead to top of the stairs teetering and the not so dead rising behind one's back. Formaldehyde is bought in bulk on top of jokes on doing something “funny” with a dead wife and “It's alive” homages. Eternal youth potions await in a scary, humbling castle where newcomers tip toe so their heels don't echo on the floor before sampling this hush-hush, ageless elixir to prove its price. Snake charmers admit the forever young will look suspicious if they don't disappear, and Death Becomes Her is likewise self-aware of how lacking in self-awareness its desperate characters are when not heeding knives or warnings to preserve the facade. Women who for decades purposely inflict pain without actually harming each other let all the violence out and apologize – tag teaming the man they were fighting over because they need him to maintain their seemingly miraculous vitality forever. Twisted dream sequences, wide lenses, and zooms accentuate the preposterously clever scheme of tranquilizers on the wine glass and finishing dinner before planting the body in a car going off Mulholland Drive as quips about divorce in California, never seeing a neighbor in Los Angeles, and those with no talent for poverty orchestrating murder escalate the satire with handy hardware, bloody bodies in the lily pond, and a hole in the stomach big enough to right see through you.

Everything has to be taut and perfect for Madeline Ashton, and only Meryl Streep (She-Devil) can play a bad actress obsessed with wrinkles without winking and scene chewing for the camera. Madeline strikes the right pose, plumps the bosom, and remains pampered even if she hasn't worked in sometime and is no longer the breadwinner. In order to hide her impoverished past, she must show up Helen at all times and mere make up won't do. Despite her fame and wealth, Madeline's ugliness shows in her mistreatment of the maid or any pretty supple ingenue. When rejected by her younger lover for not considering how he feels, she blames him for making her feel cheap. Even if the spa refuses to do a traumatic plasma treatment, Madeline demands the procedure money is no object because she fears younger women must be laughing at her. She's shocked at Helen's transformation and makes excuses about feeling terrible at having happiness at Helen's expense, but Madeline doesn't feel that terrible and she's not really happy. Fortunately, her shady zingers return with her beauty, but Madeline says what she shouldn't, leading to scary body bags and uncomfortable realizations – although she enjoys having no pulse because nobody can play dead better than she can. Goldie Hawn's (Overboard) Helen is initially a shy and quiet writer compared to her old school rival Madeline, dowdy and twisting her handkerchief rather than expressing her anger. She warns Ernest that Madeline only wants him because she has him. Madeline has stolen men from Helen before and she wants Ernest to pass her Madeline Ashton test, but when he does not, Helen becomes a gluttonous cat lady obsessed with rewinding Madeline's onscreen strangulation. Upon eviction she ruins her therapy group by talking about Madeline before overcoming her outlook by vowing revenge and looking dynamite while doing it. Literary success follows, and Helen lies to Madeline's face about never blaming her, kissing her cheek as she pits Madeline and Ernest against each other. Now a vivacious vixen, Helen claims sisterhood while plotting with her man – embodying the shade, deception, and fierce competition of the woman scorned even if she doesn't really want Ernest anymore. She just wants to take him from Madeline and use him for her fatal revenge, and both ladies willingly become a Hollywood type of vampire, consuming the essence of a man for their own youthful survival. What does their undead beauty contest get them? Each other, stuck forever in an “I paint your ass, you paint mine” begrudging.

Ernest Menville was once a famous plastic surgeon, but now Bruce Willis' (Color of Night) doctor is a postmortem fixer for the Hollywood dead between breakfast bloody marys. Life with Madeline hasn't worked out, and she's reviled by his bottom feeder, drinking himself to death existence. When complimented for his mortuary work, Ernest admits the secret weapon for coloring dead skin is spray paint, but he knows it isn't real work and would sell his soul to really operate again. He argues with Madeline about who ruined whom and won't take jokes about his clients being stiffer. Though unhappy, wishing to divorce, and easily swept up when Helen comes on to him with sexy words, Ernest is reluctant to go along with her plans, for he takes the change in Madeline's temperature, pulse, and hair – because that's what men notice – as a miracle. Ernest gains confidence despite his fear over what he has done, wanting to make Madeline his masterpiece, painting her and carefully mixing the turpentine. He won't be rushed when her eyes must have artistic balance! Ernest will fix them and then go, but when the ladies need touch ups, his sudden backbone becomes a problem. Death Becomes Her's few daylight scenes are about Ernest realizing what took him so long to leave. He was willing to keep his marital promise in spite of the suffering and humiliation, but his obligations are fulfilled in her death do us part. The camera at the not all that it seems spa has to be switched off before Isabella Rosellini's (Merlin) Lisle von Rhoman can be mentioned, but the million dollar price tag for her mysterious potion is relative to such elite clientele. Her stunning beauty and barely there clothes make it easy to soft sell her elixir – Lisle is sweet when charming a guest, telling them to follow spring and summer but avoid autumn and winters however she's sassy when ordering her Tom, Dick, and Harry henchmen and intimating with her deceptions. She knows why her clients come to see her, for they are scared of themselves, their bodies, the lengths they go to in maintaining their secrets, and their inevitable failure. Life is cruel, taking away vitality only to replace it with decay, so we want to believe her sweet talking promise to defy natural and endorse the check despite her dominance. The camera heightens Lisle's look fair and feel foul with carefully orchestrated poses and frames. She's centered perfectly in each shot with daggers, dobermans, and amulets. Lisle crosses her legs in her throne chair and says “thank you” when someone exclaims about God, but her seductive wraps and high collared, witchy robes suggest an underlying evil. After imploring our plastic surgeon to now take the youth and beauty he gave to others for himself, Lisle's full menace is revealed when he questions her on the nightmarish consequences of immortality. Of course, there's a wink to Rosellini's casting because she looks so much like her mother, and bemusing not so dead cameos include James Dean, Jim Morrison, Elvis, and Marilyn alongside appearances by Mrs. Zemeckis Mary Ellen Trainor (Tales from the Crypt) and poor doctor with a heart condition Sydney Pollock (Three Days of the Condor).

The naughty but sinister, frenetic strings of Alan Silvestri's (Predator) theme set the mood for Death Becomes Her amid a dash of jazz, disco beats, and campy cues. Boas and colorful stage backdrops in the opening sequence establish an over the top, garish, tacky and lamé atmosphere before static on the old television, retro patterns, and poor clutter contrast the massive Beverly Hill mansion with gated entries, a grand staircase, hefty doors, and heaps of marble. The made to look ugly, old, and desperate makeup and bodily transformations are well done amid tears and soggy rain making a women look worse before bemusing good skin versus bad skin comparisons and boob lifts. That pretty left hand with the giant rock ring is always prominently displayed! Subtle nudity is also reflected through windows and doors as supple butt shots provide curves to the sagging and wrinkles. The square nineties blazers and low buttons add masculine angles for the women, however low cut cleavage, deep blouses, and lace invoke feminine symbolism along with thigh high slits, Egyptian life giving motifs, and our glowing pink potion. Death Becomes Her abounds with mirrors everywhere – frames within frames via television screens, snapshots, and gold portraits pepper every scene. Clever reflections, shadows, and silhouettes do double duty while red stands for passion, black for suspicion, and white for innocence as dramatic overhead drops, balcony dangles, thunder, and shot gun blasts apply terror in the killing scenes. Neck snaps, stairway rolls, holes in the gut, and backwards results are as disturbing as the decision to kill. Sure, some of the bumbling bodies and squashed heads may look poor now, but that also keeps them funny, and there are more intriguing or random visual gags to catch our eye – the doctor throwing away his stethoscope when he can't get a heartbeat, the yuppie tennis couple with the bruised elbows, those weird ass gliding nuns. The pink pastels and green palm trees in the eighties upscale buildings are perfectly gaudy now, but the blue lighting, black marble, and arrows pointing to the morgue mirror how the characters are inevitably walking towards death. Michelangelo motifs and pools of water could be symbolic life renewals as one tries to escape the locked doors, gilded elevators, grand arches, maze like spires, and those ever present mirrors but Death Becomes Her's beauty goes from svelte to garish with vampire pale, white out eyes, pasty skin, and gross peeling.

One may love or hate Death Becomes Her but there is no in between and it takes multiple viewings to study the dual nuances, comedic layers, and dark subtleties. Questions on immortality – or at least looking immortal – deepen the commentary on beauty and why women compete to look so enchanting even if it kills them. Today's dark comedies often feel crass or too disturbing, but the great cast keeps Death Becomes Her mature with a tongue in cheek that doesn't have to berate the obvious. While not in your face horror, the choice macabre moments and increasingly bleak palette illume our dread and fear of old age. We can laugh at the sardonic winks even as Death Becomes Her calls out Hollywood then and hello look at us on the 'gram now, remaining delicious because its satire is unfortunately more applicable than ever.

"Do you remember where you parked the car?"

A Shakespeare Trio, Twice!

A Shakespeare Trio, Twice!

by Kristin Battestella

My To Watch List has a long line of Shakespearean shows, so let's steamroll on with more all things upon Avon pomp, circumstance, and powerhouse performances!



Macbeth – This 2010 Peabody Award winning television rendition retains the Shakespearean text but transposes its two and a half hour Scottish Play to a surreal regime with stock footage of explosions and bombs setting the scene before eerie hospital gurneys, flat lining monitors, and freaky witches disguised as nurses. Underground bunker planning adds to the purgatory paranormal, and despite the unseen battle action, we recognize the fascist peril and prophecy gone awry. The kingsly talk doesn't seem out of place with mid-century guns thanks to fine delivery all around, and Sir Patrick Stewart looks the rugged soldier – a passed over thane ready to take credence in a supernatural hope too good to be true. His mustache and dress uniform hit home the cutthroat regime coup, and this desire for power becoming reality is more frightening and contemporary than we care to admit. Stewart faces the camera directly for his soliloquies, getting angry and closer to the lense as his political exterior consumes his guilty interior. He's getting ahead of himself in doing away with everybody, and the violence snowballs out of control. Lady in white Kate Fleetwood should be a forties dame beauty, however her harsh jawline and sharp cheekbones invoke a grim reaper facade, pairing her ill intentions with a psychotic yet sexy, alluring look. She's had plenty of time to plan her ascent while detesting her domestic duties – Mrs. MacB seems loving at first, but her blood red lips foreshadow her killer finishes and belittling cruelty. By contrast, her excellent sleepwalking scene strips this devil in a red dress down to a slip, no make up, and her true skeletal hollow. The audience cannot escape her foreground mental breakdown just as she cannot wash the blood from her hands. There are no major effects here, however period dressing, swift editing, and colorful lighting transitions provide cinematic flavor. Green sickly hues reflect mounting jealousy, and omen sound effects such as tolling bells, owls, and ravens create an eerie atmosphere for the hellish elevator traversing the titular up and down fates. Television parades, dictator banners, fancy fur hats, and glamorous red designs escalate the selling the soul downward spiral – using the sophistication of the era with dinner parties, period music, and record players as well as chanting and firing squads for wartime horrors. Upsetting Macduff killings add Anne Frank symbolism while noir photography accents the empty, darkening sets and increasingly tighter camerawork. Some may dislike the surreal intrusions or slow motion gory, but the source play is amoral and spooky, lending itself to such fascist horrors. The fitting bunker siege finale against the Macbeths looks not Bard, but like an action history drama – shrewdly keeping the parallels fresh in spite of this period setting on 400 year old material. Here the human drama, great performances, and bloody aftermath are done superbly with story, location, mood, and no need for hyperbole.

Richard III – Producer, director, and writer Laurence Olivier assembles an excellent, knights included, everybody who is Bard anybody ensemble featuring Ralph Richardson, Claire Bloom, Cedric Hardwicke, and John Gielgud for this hefty 1955 adaptation costing a mere 6 mil. The effortless repertory proves how pleasantly period the Shakespearean dialogue can be – even in this condensed yet two and a half hours plus edition with excised characters and outside source material. Although the complicated plots and ploys require some background knowledge, the opening scrolls provide medieval flair thanks to rousing music and monastic chanting while setting the War of the Roses backdrop with a who is Lancaster and who is York introduction. I wish all Shakespeare adaptations did this! Some Burger King crowns are ugly and cheap, granted, but colorful costumes, banners, and regalia dress the castle staging in a slightly fantastic look – and hennins, people, hennins. Our titular deformed brother looks smarmy with a glare to match, on the side but intrusive before addressing his famed soliloquy directly to the camera. This up to no good unreliable narrator is the jealous audience anchor – cheated by his half a man facade yet witty and gosh darn likable as he keeps us in the know on his plans. Larry's tour de force is despicable yet enjoyable, with creepy asides daring viewers to witness his crocodile tears, marital deception, and multifaceted but seemingly effortless orchestration of brother against brother. The well done camera work matches this fly on the wall tone with over the shoulder peering, following characters through opening doors, and tracking shots across the whispering court. Such interior filming may seem congested to some – horses on set can't hide the fake snow and obviously tiny ye olde stage streets, either. However, this intimate, no scale world matches the behind closed doors family squabble at work, and the court increasingly darkens while Richard is on the throne. This doesn't feel like mid-century happy go lucky bright thanks to eerie night before the battle dreams, yet the Technicolor and VistaVision looks remain fresh. How did Sir Laurence and company not win more awards? This history is in some ways ahead of its time with its attempt to air on television and be released in theaters simultaneously – something Hollywood is only recently starting to embrace with video on demand. The feature laden Criterion DVD is an enjoyable listen just to have on the television for some background or to get in that medieval mood. It's no tragedy when Richard gets his just do in this sweeping and ironically self-aware Bosworth topper. We know how he gets the crown – with almost an hour left over those poor Princes in the Tower – and we know how the kingdom for a horse ends – with new grave findings, too – yet this vile 15^th century tale remains ruthless good fun. 

Shakespeare Uncovered – This 2015 six hour Second Series from PBS uses plenty of stars to discuss all things Bard, and Hugh Bonneville, Ralph Fiennes, and Julie Taymor fittingly begin with the magic, fantasy, and universally appealing imagination versus reality of “A Midsummer Night's Dream.” Shakespearean history and Elizabethan scandals help breakdown stage references, comedic play within a play awareness, and text both bawdy and innocent thanks to fairies and Greek motifs. Episode Two, however, goes dark and depressing with tempers, paternal angst, rivalries, and regrets as Christopher Plummer, Ian McKellan, and Simon Russell Beale discuss “King Lear.” Contradictory madness and fragility are debated alongside separating the man from the crown, arguable happy endings, James I influences, and the never to old to reform lessons. Morgan Freeman uses Old West parallels and Bill's humble birth, sly jokes, and play commentary on the emerging London theatre industry to chat “The Taming of The Shrew” with Julia Stiles, Brian Cox, Tracey Ullman, and Fiona Shaw. Early performance footage of Meryl Streep, Raul Julia, John Cleese, and Burton and Taylor clips shape the sexism controversies, sexual innuendo, and new jokes on old nag cliches with fresh spirit, heroic independence, and a proactive female character not having any of this man's world be silent – at a time when the men on stage played the women! The fourth hour “Othello” discusses race in Elizabethan times, travel and culture exchanges, overt historical racism, and the unfortunate blackface depictions of Anthony Hopkins and Laurence Olivier with David Harewood, Imogen Stubbs, and Patrick Stewart. Are there ones close to us that would thrive on our weakness or love just to stir the pot? You betcha, and such orchestrated hatred, jealously, and killer love is as relevant as ever. The final two episodes feel somewhat thin with more focus on the slightly pretentious on the scene presenters, however Kim Cattrall, Vanessa Redgrave, Janet Suzman, and Richard Johnson tackle the moody middle aged love versus politics, famed film perceptions, and empire shaping culture clashes of “Antony and Cleopatra” via obscure productions, intimate candlelit rehearsals, and Shakespeare's own Julius Caesar character roots. Joseph Fiennes, Orlando Bloom, Condola Rashad, and footage of Alan Rickman as a young Tybalt anchor the familiar “Romeo and Juliet” finale as the iconic relevance of these star crossed teenagers is explored with clips from Shakespeare in Love, West Side Story, the beloved Zeffirelli film, Baz Lurhmann's update, and Montagues and Capulets ballets. Rather than being stuck in a school desk and reading aloud – hated that – the historical Italian sources, comedic wit, and rival happy endings get interactive and out loud with school exercises and role reversals. This series is lighthearted but no less informative, and the conversational atmosphere is perfect for budding Bard fans to marathon straight through or for picking and choosing in comparing classroom discussions.

She-Devil

She-Devil Is Still A Classic

By Kristin Battestella

I couldn’t help myself recently and tuned in for my umpteenth viewing of the 1989 Roseanne Barr comedy She-Devil. My VHS copy is very worn out, for the wit and humor here never get old. In fact, She-Devil has grown better with age.

Chubby and bored housewife Ruth (Barr) reads romance novels and dreams of making herself beautiful. Unfortunately, she is not the thin, talented, blonde, enchanting author Mary Fisher (Meryl Streep). When Ruth and her husband, accountant Bob Patchett (Ed Begley, Jr.), meet Fisher at a dinner party, Ruth’s home life quickly goes from bad to worse. Bob and Mary have an affair; and after a disastrous dinner with Bob’s parents, Ruth takes matters into her own hands. She vows to destroy Bob’s home, family, career, and freedom.

Oscar phenom Meryl Streep (Sophia’s Choice, The Hours, Doubt) is top billed for She-Devil, but her screen time is less than Roseanne’s is. She does, however, make the most of the role and looks to be having a good time with the script. In spite of her dramatic success, Streep is equally talented at comedy- as we would later see in 1992’s Death Becomes Her. Her socialite Mary Fisher is the straight man against Roseanne’s jokes, but as her life falls apart, Streep brings forth Mary’s slapstick degrade. Her delivery also subtly changes. Whether she’s smooth taking marshmallows with her publisher or yelling and cursing out the kids, we know Mary means business. It makes for some great quotes: ‘You may not know this, Bob, but I’m an artist!’ and ‘Computers don’t have Swiss Bank Accounts, Bob!’

Unlike her crude but heartwarming mom on her hit show Roseanne, in She-Devil, Barr plays Ruth as anything but likeable. Though we may not think of her as statuesque, it appears that Roseanne was made up to be very ugly here. She starts out in horrible eighties patterns and muumuus, with bad hair and big moles. As Ruth grows confident in her vengeance and schemes, her style sharpens and proper makeup brings Barr’s charm forth. We’re not supposed to like Ruth in comparison with the divine Mary Fisher, but her sad home life and subsequent revenge is probably the reality of many a housewife. Every time I use the mircrowave, I think of Ruth putting aerosol cans in it to blow up her house. It’s extreme yes, but its understandable rage to a used and abused housewife. We delight in Ruth’s plan as she becomes nurse Vesta Rose, and some of her wit and humor should be loved and laughed at (but not her putting the iron in the washer!) When I began my career in activities at a senior center, my sister said, ‘Do you have the old people play soccer like Roseanne did in She-Devil?’

Ed Begley Jr. (St. Elsewhere, 7^th Heaven, Living with Ed) is perfect as the sleezy husband and even sleezier accountant who gets what he deserves. Even though he is the catalyst to both Ruth and Mary’s transformations, Begley’s Bob is secondary to the women onscreen. When he begins a second affair with Vesta Rose cohort Olivia Honey (Maria Pitillo, Providence), his creepness is cemented. Now he’s ruined not one woman, but three. Likewise, Sylvia Miles (Midnight Cowboy) as Mary Fisher’s Mother is the perfectly cranky but loveable old lady further putting a wrench in Mary’s life. A Martinez (Santa Barbara) has little to do as Mary’s pretty boy butler Garcia, but he has several great quips, as does Linda Hunt (Dune, Carnivale, The Practice) as Ruth’s business partner Cooper. Only Ruth and Bob’s two kids are a bit out of place. They have great gags and set-ups with the family pets, but it’s tough to discern what age they actually are, and truly, I’ve never seen them in anything thing else.

A fine cast at the height of its eighties stardom is one thing, but they need a great script from which to work. Thankfully, director Susan Seidelman (Desperately Seeking Susan, Sex and the City) and writers Barry Strugatz and Mark R. Burns (Married to the Mob) provide a witty and multilayered story from Fay Weldon’s The Life and Loves of A She-Devil. The dialogue says more than its words, and the speech is balanced in time with physical comedy and looks from the actors. A lot of the script depends on delivery, but the cast is on form in giving a line-whether it is deadpan or all out. When asked by Bob where she is going, Ruth replies calmly, ‘I don’t know, Bob. Into my future, I guess.’ It’s almost so stupid, it’s funny, but She-Devil is much more intelligent than that.

Of course, a few sparse effects and clothing styles from She-Devil have not stood the test of time. Even when Ruth and Mary are done up, its eighties sheek. Younger folks might be put off by this look, but the funnies win against art and set design. In fact, Mary’s over the top Dynasty style works now more so then it did in 1989. We know this woman is a bit out of touch with the little people-who really wears all pink and has hats and gloves to match everything? In tune audiophiles will notice the quirky score from Lord of the Rings genius Howard Shore.

You can find She-Devil on television from time to time, and though now out of print, the DVD can be found for a family fun night. I was however, surprised by the edited version I found On Demand. Four letter words and butt shots, I can understand those being cut; but the shaving of some untaundry sex scenes and not others confused me. Bastard was also replaced with Bum, but since it’s critical to the plot, there was no way to cut out Bob’s photocopies of Olivia’s lacey bosom. Compared to many films today, there’s nothing majorly inappropriate in She-Devil. I watch it with my nieces-sometimes they beg to pop She-Devil in the VCR. The uncut PG -13 is safe enough for family viewing. If you’re prudish enough to be upset by bastard and humorous butt shots, a filtered version of the film won’t change the adulterous and revengeful plot.

She-Devil was a chick flick before there was such a thing. Largely a story for women, I imagine some of things here might make male viewers uncomfortable. ‘Hell hath no fury…’ remember. Nonetheless, there’s humor enough for everyone-male, female, young, and old. Great gags, quotes, and a fine cast trump any naughtiness or eighties vibes. You and yours can enjoy She-Devil again and again.

Mamma Mia!

Mamma Mia! Not That Bad, Actually

By Kristin Battestella

 

When I had the opportunity to see Mamma Mia! in theaters, I was a little reluctant to go. Despite being a big Bee Gees fan, I don’t care for Abba all that much, and I’m not into newer musical chick flicks. I was pleasantly surprised. Yes, I kind of liked Mamma Mia!.

 

As young Sophie (Amanda Seyfried) readies for her marriage to Sky (Dominic Cooper) on the Greek island of Skopelos, she confesses to her best friends Ali (Ashley Lilly) and Lisa (Rachel McDowall) that she’s invited her three prospective fathers to the wedding- unbeknownst to her mother Donna (Meryl Streep). Donna’s friends Tanya (Christine Baranski) and Rosie (Julie Walters) come for the festivities and help Donna relive her glory days when she discovers her previous lovers are close at hand. Who is Sophie’s Dad? Rogue Bill (Stellan Skarsgard), uptight Harry (Colin Firth), or divorcee Sam (Pierce Brosnan)?

Each major cast member gets a lead turn at the music. Tony winner Christine Baranski (Chicago, Cybill) and Julie Walters (Harry Potter) could steal the show with ‘Does Your Mother Know’ and ‘Take A chance on Me’, respectively, if it were not for Streep’s taking down the house with ‘The Winner Takes It All’. I knew the 14 time Oscar nominee (twice a winner with Kramer vs Kramer and Sophie’s Choice) could carry a tune, but I didn’t know she could sing that well. Everything the 59 year old actress has is in Donna, vocally and physically. Much was made of the impromptu split for the movie’s trailers, but Streep’s energy throughout the film’s big dance numbers makes me envious. If it weren’t for all her other star turns, I could say that this is a definitive and star making role. Streep will most likely get another nomination for Mamma Mia!; despite all her dramatic and even comedic achievement, this is the complete variety package.

Seyfried (Mean Girls, Veronica Mars) is cute as daughter Sophie. She’s pretty, but not in a conventional way, and of course, she can sing. I’m glad, however, that the core of the film is on Donna, not necessarily Sophie’s oft seen coming of age quest for her father. I’m not a Colin Firth (Pride and Prejudice) or Stellan Skarsgard (Pirates of the Caribbean) fan, but both fit their parts here with humor and acceptable tunes. Only Pierce Brosnan (Die Another Day) is out of place. Pierce, Pierce-if this were a straight romantic drama or comedy, he would be to die for as the days of Remington Steele. I like Brosnan a lot, which is why I can watch Mamma Mia! and forgive the fact that he can’t sing. Not like I can sing myself, but it’s easy to pick Brosnan for last place among the cast here. Sorry!

At the same time, I discovered Abba music I didn’t know was Abba and music that I’d never heard before. Mamma Mia! gives us the obligatory ‘Dancing Queen’ and the eponymous track-which was stuck in my head for days after. The sound is done well, even if background singers spring up out of nowhere. It’s a musical, you can take a leap of faith when people break out in song. Mamma Mia! does gives us a few obvious onscreen music set ups, but for the most part the songs are fun and lighthearted. I didn’t how they would work one of the few songs I knew in there, but ‘Fernando’ has its moment. ‘Money, Money, Money’ and ‘Super Trouper’ aren’t as upbeat, but the low songs are forgivable when considering the desire to fit every Abba song possible in one under two hour movie.

 

While the dated and hokey nature of seventies styles are now accepted and even hip-we wouldn’t be having a musical comprised of Abba’s songs if they weren’t-it is in fact Mamma Mia’s contemporary stylings that may hinder its long lasting appeal. The shabby chic look of Donna’s villa, the dress of the three males leads, and the all too pretty beachy and bohemian look of Sophie and Sky trap this film in 2008. Sure maybe people copied Clueless for back to school 1995, but come 96, not so much. Mamma Mia! does win production values for its great Greek locales. The crystal waters, swift boats, impressive rocks and cliffs blend perfectly with the indoor soundstages. I don’t want to say ‘It’s all Greek to me’, but there were times when this Italian was out of the loop on the Greek marriage customs. I do wonder how the heck everyone climbed all those steps to that church though. Oiy.

 

Although the script from relative newcomer Catherine Johnson is thin in some places and too obvious in others-like the obligatory father bonding montages and near blatant cues for the music-the elder cast keeps things sardonic or witty where it needs to be. Where I’m sure some actors are embarrassed by musical attempts, I don’t think the cast here has anything to be ashamed of-even Brosnan! While there is definitely a hard core group of fans racking up the pre sales for this DVD release (it looks like the two disc edition has all the features) it’s the music and the talent that makes Mamma Mia! a successful transition from stage to screen. Instead of wallowing in Beach Bingo teeny drama, stage director Phyllida Lloyd keeps the mature members of the cast on top. Even though Lloyd lets the pace drag in between musical numbers, its rare to find a musical with adult fun and maturity that’s PG-13 enough for the whole family.

I don’t think guys will care for Mamma Mia!. Macho men might cringe at a wife or daughter’s obsession with this film. Those Abba songs over and over! Young guys, however, might like the music or the hot dancing. There’s nothing super naughty for tweens and younger-what there is might go over their heads, so Mamma Mia! might be a parent’s chance to swap out High School Musical for something they can enjoy, too. For surprising musical fun for the whole family, pick up Mamma Mia! on DVD this December.