Mama Mia! I am Screwed Again!

Today marks probably the 500th time (just a rough guestimate) of the number of times I have had the following conversation with someone:

Acquaintance: So, I read your blog, and I noticed that you like Colin Firth films.
Me: Yes, I do (delivered in a would-be calm voice while trying to arrange my face into the expression of a dignified, mature adult female and resist the temptation to squee like a prepubescent girl).
Acquaintance: So, let me ask you: what did you think of Mama Mia?

Why is it that non-Colin Firth fans seem to judge one’s feelings toward Mama Mia! as the ultimate test of loyalty?

There are, as I have learned, three ways one could respond to this question, any or all of which have the potential of branding one a social outcast.
Response 1: admit to hating the movie more than oral surgery and risk having your loyalty to Colin cast in serious doubt.

Response 2: Lie through your teeth, claim you enjoyed the movie, and that Colin’s performance was adorable. On the one hand, you save face in the eyes of Colin Firth fans (if you lose sleep over that sort of thing, that is); on the other, you run the risk of having your taste in cinema questioned–something that I usually try to avoid, especially in high-brow academic circles.

Response 3: Admit to adoring the movie, singing the score at the top of your voice in the shower, and having “Our Last Summer” as a ringtone. Consequently you are dragged off to Intervention for your obsession and suffer the pangs of social ostracism for the remainder of your natural life.

Catholic-guilt plagued creature that I am, I generally respond with the truth, and the truth, I must confess, is response # 1, though perhaps it’s overstating things to claim that I would rather have my wisdom teeth pulled without pain relief. I do own the movie, since we’re telling the truth; I also did think it was marginally cute, and the cast did appear to genuinely enjoy working on it. It was clear, at least to me, that they were all doing it purely for the laugh factor. The music is catchy and lends itself readily to alcohol-induced rounds of “Rock Band” at parties with friends. That, however, is about the best I can say–though yes, I did in fact think Colin was precious in the film.

And because I can’t resist, I leave you with this šŸ™‚

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1 Comment »

  1. I know nothing of the movie, but I saw the play in Spanish. In Madrid. That was cool.

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