Jen's Column / Mamma Mia

"Hello ladies," the e-mail from my friend Jen began. "I'm planning a Mamma Mia sing-along movie night."

When: Thursday, Sept. 25th
Time: 9:50 pm
Where: Chateau Theatres

Amy had the great idea to wear jammies to the movies. No one will see us because normal Rochesterans are in bed by 10 p.m. I know it's late but you can sleep when you die. See you Thursday.

"How fun is that?!" I wrote back. And then I called my friend Lisa. Lisa who has seen Mamma Mia — the movie musical based on ABBA's music — three times. Lisa who saw it live in Las Vegas and danced in the aisles. Lisa who knows all the words to every ABBA song ever written.

"Want to go to the Mamma Mia sing-a-long on Thursday with a bunch of other fun women?" I asked. "We're wearing our pajamas!"

She wasn't as enthusiastic as I was about this last detail.

"Is everyone else wearing them?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered confidently.

"Really?" she questioned.

"Yes," I assured her. "Everyone is wearing pajamas."

It probably goes without saying that no one else was wearing pajamas. When we showed up on Thursday night — me in my red flannel Scottie dog pajamas (a Christmas gift from my mother-in-law) and Lisa in her blue cotton capris with matching top — we were the only two of more than a dozen women in our pajamas.

And Amy — the one with the "great idea" to wear jammies? Didn't even show up.
You know what else? All Rochesterites AREN'T in bed by 10 p.m. There were other people at the theater. And plenty of them.

But it was Mamma Mia, so what can you do? Sit back and relax and sing along.

This, of course, is the beauty of sing-a-long night. You actually get to belt out the songs alongside Meryl Streep without annoying the people around you. Because, well, the people around you are singing, too. It doesn't matter if you've never even heard the songs before. The lyrics are running along the bottom of the screen, karaoke style, throughout the movie.

I hadn't seen Mamma Mia before, and I thought Meryl Streep sounded surprisingly good. Pierce Brosnan, on the other hand… Well, I'll say this about him: He's a handsome man almost along the same lines of Cary Grant — my end-all, be-all, unrequited movie star crush. But the man cannot sing. In fact, one reviewer wrote, "It is not merely that Pierce Brosnan cannot sing; it is that he looks so uncomfortable doing it."

True. Which may be why the whole lot of us broke into giggles every time Brosnan opened his mouth. But we also applauded him for his courage to be out there singing anyway.

We sang anyway, too. Especially when Dancing Queen came on. Because, really, what woman doesn't love Dancing Queen? ("You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life! O—o-ooh, see that girl! Watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen!")

So we sang. We waved our arms. We danced. In the aisles. It was so much fun I almost forgot I was out in public in my pajamas.