Mamma Mia! Movie Review

Don’t ask… Please don’t ask…

“WHY!” you all yell out in unison.

WHY would I possible go to an actual theater and sit with a bunch of fifty-something year old woman and a dozen or so gay men and sit through a musical based on old ABBA hits?
Why? Because my dad wanted to go. He wanted to remember a simple time when him and my mom would go to the discos and dance. Or drive around in their old convertible blasting ABBA music, him listening to my mom sing along.



So I sat in that theater and watched a B-rate cast of characters sing and dance their way to a wedding. I listened to the impossible, and slightly icky, plot thicken as the young bride tries to figure out which of three men is her father. Seems her mother, played by Meryl Streep, slept with her true love, had her heart broken, and took revenge by getting in bed with two other men in quick succession.

I listened to the cheesy music, and to rest of the theater laugh and sing along. Then, I got over myself. It’s a cheesy screwball musical comedy for heavens sake! If I can’t sit back and relax and let myself enjoy a nice afternoon in a cool theater with my dad, well, then I’m a bitch of a daughter. So I gave in. I didn't sing, but I let myself giggle at the silliness of it all.

Two years ago my mom passed away. My dad’s been deep in mourning, with only a glimmer of a smile ever even crossing his face. And while he did weep a little throughout the movie, when it ended, he was happy, singing along with all the other old folk. I’m glad I went and saw Mamma Mia! I’m glad I lightened up enough to enjoy myself. And I’m glad I still had one parent left to pass the time with. I love you dad. And I miss you mom.