A few weeks ago Cher Scholar Dishy sent me the link to the Boston Globe review of Dear Mom, Love Cher. I thought two paragraphs were worth quoting. The review worries that the special is just an excuse for an infomercial to promote Georgia's new album but then the review goes on to say:
But, oh whatever. “Dear Mom, Love Cher” is an awfully sweet gesture, which arrives on the eve of Mother’s Day. Cher is a good daughter, and it’s pointless to resist her good will in sharing the spotlight and giving big public props to her mother. OK, so the rest of her family lives in the shadow of the glitzy, bellowing, tart-mouthed, surgically reconstituted, drag-queen-inspiring, bad-boy-loving, fashion-forward-forward, farewell-tour-addicted, mononymous, unsinkable, sympathetic, and always fabulous diva. We all live in the shadow of Cher, right?
It’s such a lovely thing — Cher helping her mother realize her dream after all these years — that I was able to let go of the special’s ulterior motive. And Holt seems to enjoy and savor her moment, as the three women talk and laugh together in her honor. Her beauty shines through. As a diva of a different stripe, Joni Mitchell, might put it, in Holt’s case, happiness is the best face lift.