Movie Review: Julie&Julia
Went along with mom to see it tonight. So here's my take on it:
Julia Child: I am an adorable giantess with a perfect metrosexual husband. Everyone loves me, and I have more natural talent for cooking in my little finger than all of France combined. I've experienced disappointment, but my cookbook opus is finally a smash hit, and I am far too busy being charming to have my storyline satisfactorily resolved.
Julie Powell: I am an adorable little pixie with a perfect metrosexual husband. I think my life is meaningless, so I decide to write an online journal about cooking Julia Child's recipes. Along the way, I invent a Julia Child imaginary friend, who I'm suddenly very close to. The minute I realize I'm becoming popularized by thousands of faceless strangers, I become a whiny, self-centered emotional wreck, which is not due to pregnancy (surprising everyone), and alientate my husband, who runs away, but comes back when I whine some more. Suddenly I hear from some random secondhand source that [ninety-year-old] Julia Child has heard of my blog and thinks I'm a disrespectful little copycat twerp. But I decide that my imaginary Julia is much more better, and our love will go on forever. (What husband?) In the end I have everything I want, and I decide to leave butter sticks under a photo of the real Julia in a public Julia Child museum to symbolize my everlasting devotion to the imaginary Julia in my head. Ain't life grand?
Critique: It dragged on a bit too much. Amy Adams' character reminded me far too much of Anne Hathaway's in Devil Wears Prada (with the whole becoming self-obsessed and driving her man away), although Anne's at least learned a lesson. I would have been happier watching an hour and a half of a Julia Child movie, than two hours of a girl gathering fame and friends and fortune by being a half-assed, delusory shadow of Julia Child.
Then end.
I could rant about my mother, too... but I won't.
Julia Child: I am an adorable giantess with a perfect metrosexual husband. Everyone loves me, and I have more natural talent for cooking in my little finger than all of France combined. I've experienced disappointment, but my cookbook opus is finally a smash hit, and I am far too busy being charming to have my storyline satisfactorily resolved.
Julie Powell: I am an adorable little pixie with a perfect metrosexual husband. I think my life is meaningless, so I decide to write an online journal about cooking Julia Child's recipes. Along the way, I invent a Julia Child imaginary friend, who I'm suddenly very close to. The minute I realize I'm becoming popularized by thousands of faceless strangers, I become a whiny, self-centered emotional wreck, which is not due to pregnancy (surprising everyone), and alientate my husband, who runs away, but comes back when I whine some more. Suddenly I hear from some random secondhand source that [ninety-year-old] Julia Child has heard of my blog and thinks I'm a disrespectful little copycat twerp. But I decide that my imaginary Julia is much more better, and our love will go on forever. (What husband?) In the end I have everything I want, and I decide to leave butter sticks under a photo of the real Julia in a public Julia Child museum to symbolize my everlasting devotion to the imaginary Julia in my head. Ain't life grand?
Critique: It dragged on a bit too much. Amy Adams' character reminded me far too much of Anne Hathaway's in Devil Wears Prada (with the whole becoming self-obsessed and driving her man away), although Anne's at least learned a lesson. I would have been happier watching an hour and a half of a Julia Child movie, than two hours of a girl gathering fame and friends and fortune by being a half-assed, delusory shadow of Julia Child.
Then end.
I could rant about my mother, too... but I won't.