The conceit of the show is that Julianna Margulies's character, Alicia, has been home with the kids for a long time, and when she goes back to work after her state's attorney husband is jailed in a sex scandal, she has to start from the bottom. That is, if "the bottom" were a junior associate position at a major law firm, arguing a murder case. Christine Baranski is always fun to watch, especially when paired with her very own villain-pet, as here. But in Diane, she's basically playing a working-world stereotype: the mean, successful woman who wants women under her to fail. Later in the episode, Will (seen in the clip appealingly tossing his baseball) tells her, "I've seen you mentor these women until they start competing with you," and so have we — in central casting.

The show does have some less predictable aspects. The law firm's investigator Kalinda (played by awesome Archie Punjabi) is that rare TV woman of color who is portrayed as a hottie, rather than a funny friend or background diversity. And while her cleavage-flashing gets a little old, she and Alicia do appear to be forging a mentoring relationship, though initially it's Alicia who's getting mentored. Less interesting is the suggestion that Alicia is good at her job because she understands what it's like to be a wronged woman. Her bonding with a potential female witness over Diet Coke is pretty tiresome, and in general Margulies is a lot more fun when she's getting angry than when she's being warm. Which is why it might be okay to watch her spar with Baranski, stereotypes be damned — that is, until they hug it out in the inevitable reconciliation episode.

The Good Wife [CBS]

Dodai also saw the film, and while she could see where I was coming from, she thought "in someways it was like a relief to see them a) talk about sex and b) talk about enjoying it," even if their dance moves and song choices were borderline vulgar. Even though the movie employed the randy old crone stereotype (specifically Julie Walters' character, who is sort of asexual and chases men who don't want her), Dodai pointed out, "how many movies are there where randy old dudes are looking up girls skirts or whatever?"

I'm not the only one who noted the possibly-insulting portrayal of grown-up sexuality. Salon's Stephanie Zacharek said in her review of Mamma Mia!:

Streep seems hellbent on spreading the gospel of how sexy, randy, raunchy, lively and decidedly not boring women past 50 can be — what she's doing is more advertising than performing. She can belt; she just forgets to breathe. Baranski, also a gifted performer, gets the unpleasant role of the thin, rich socialite who bores through stacks of husbands like a hungry moth munching her way through layers of sweaters. Baranski might have done something even with this cardboard role, but her performance is just shrill and crinkly…And I thought Walters, in her baggy pants outfits and sexless spectacles, was supposed to be the surprise lesbian of the group — I guess that's what we're supposed to think. But I began wondering why Johnson even bothered giving this character a name. Why not just call her "Free Spirit"? I suppose that sounds too much like a maxi pad.

On the other hand, though it won't be winning Oscars any time soon, the move was so much fun to watch, and part of the joy of musicals is that they're loud, flashy and sort of tasteless. Are Zacharek and I sucking all the fun out of it?

Mamma Mia — Feminist Creative Power on Film [Women And Hollywood]
The ‘Mamma Mia!’ Factor, Times Three [NY Times]
Mamma Mia! [Salon]