The curious effect of watching Mama Mia!

I finally saw Mama Mia! the movie a few days ago and it reminded me of the Mark Kermode review I heard on BBC Radio Five a few years ago.

It's starts off as unbelievably naff.  You almost can't believe you're watching it.  You kind of want everyone to stop screaming and shut up.  You worry about skin cancer on the unbelievably sunny Greek island.  You wonder if Meryl Streep is, in fact, permanently hysterical and if she needs medication for her condition.  You almost believe the two-dimensional characters won't actually make it to the end of the full, and tear themselves in two under their own unbelievability.

But about four or five Abba songs in, like a mysterious tractor beam, like a Hellenic sun shaped black hole, you get sucked in.  Like a glittery flamenco dancer at a cheap Spanish holiday resort, you are beckoned on stage, and after a gutful of Swedish cheese, how can you resist?

You let go. You let your feet tap. You remember the words that you somehow have in your head. And you go with it. And most surprisingly, despite yourself, you start to have fun, despite all the cringing...