Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

Some titles sound like a threat.
Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again is one of them.
After barely surviving the first film, discovering there was a sequel meant exactly what the title promised:
again.
Again, characters are talking and suddenly start singing.
Again, ABBA.
Again, smiles, choreography, colors, islands, romance and relentless happiness that produces exactly the opposite effect on me.
And again, I kept wondering how much was left.
I already explained with the first Mamma Mia! that I have an almost complete incompatibility with musicals. This is not about looking down on the genre. I simply cannot enter a storytelling universe where somebody expresses an emotion and a normal conversation suddenly becomes a song while everyone starts dancing.
I know that is precisely the appeal.
I hate it.
So Here We Go Again begins with a problem it was almost impossible to overcome.
It does not overcome it.
Technically, I can admit that the sequel sometimes seems more aware of what it is doing. Lily James can sing and dance comfortably, several musical sequences are better staged, and Ol Parker gives some scenes more cinematic movement than the first film's extremely expensive karaoke atmosphere.
I recognize that.
It changes nothing for me.
Because underneath it is still exactly what I cannot stand.
The film moves between past and present to expand Donna's story, recreate her youth and revisit relationships we already know. This allows the filmmakers to introduce younger versions of familiar characters, add new stars and find more reasons for more songs.
The structure may be more elaborate.
My experience remains the same.
Song.
A little story.
Song.
Another scene.
Song.
More ABBA.
Continue.
ABBA themselves have never particularly appealed to me either. For people who love the band, hearing familiar songs again is obviously part of the attraction.
For me, it makes everything worse.
If musicals already push me away, building one entirely around music I find boring creates an almost perfect combination of things I do not want from a film.
And then even more famous actors arrive.
Lily James.
Cher.
Andy Garcia.
The original cast.
Everyone joins the party.
Andy Garcia's appearance especially gives me the feeling of a prestige guest being added to an enormously profitable franchise. Perhaps he simply wanted to have fun with it. Fair enough. From my side of the screen, however, another famous face does not make any of this more appealing.
Cher is treated as an event too.
For fans, great.
For me, another layer.
The film also knows perfectly well that it is kitsch. It does not hide the excess; it celebrates it.
I understand that this is intentional.
But understanding an intention is not the same as enjoying it.
Knowing that something is deliberately sugary does not make it less sugary to me.
Knowing that the movie is intentionally ridiculous does not make me enjoy the ridiculousness.
That is the fundamental problem.
I can admit that this sequel is probably somewhat better constructed than the original.
I can admit that Lily James is a stronger musical performer than much of the returning cast.
I can admit that the color, scenery and choreography provide exactly the spectacle its audience wants.
And I still cannot stand it.
None of those improvements changes my relationship with what I am watching.
I did not want to return to this world.
The movie is literally called Here We Go Again.
Rarely has a title been more accurate.
For anyone who loves Mamma Mia!, ABBA and musicals, this may be exactly the sequel they wanted.
For me, it was exactly what I expected too.
That was the problem.