So I finally saw it with a girlfriend last weekend. I was prepared for the worst as the film had been panned by nearly everyone. Most reviews sided with Streep’s performance. They longed to see more of France and wished the film were actually Julia’s memoirs (My Life In France) rather than from Powell’s perspective. Most seemed to feel Julie was, in a word: shallow. I can see both sides to this one, love Meryl, and thought Julie’s self challenge was a noble goal — and I’m a sucker for noble goals. A more interesting profile of this movie is in Pyschology Today. Jeremy Clyman provides brief synopsis of the plot sufficiently serves as a checklist of positive psychology tenants. His writing is so good, it makes me wonder if he is single.
Personally, I respect anyone who creates their own wealth and wealth for other people. Julie Powell did something to move herself forward and in the end, sold a book, optioned a movie (on a new idea, how novel!), created press for Cordon Bleu and is associated with two very talented actresses. How many people can say that? In my opinion, she’s earned her right to sit in a villa somewhere and laugh all the way to the bank – hopefully she negotiated well.
For me, this was pure kitchen porn – and as far as the kitchen scenes are concerned, this film delivered. With every brass pot, wooden butcher block, porcelain sink, or flower at the dinner table I was overcome. I loved every minute of it. I loved the sparkly lights and cute little skirts for the rooftop dinner parties, I loved the cut out hearts for the Valentine’s dinner – and anyone who didn’t feel a little lump in the throat over the “you are the butter to my bread” line from Paul Child is just made of croutons as far as I’m concerned.
Julia in France...they stayed in a furnished apartment with period antiques.
Julie in her living room, complete with Good Will styling.
Julia in training: notice the colors of this still (white linen, brass pots, yellow wall, ingredients in clear jars)
Julie in training: cooking in close spaces doesn't have to be limiting.
Julia in her natural habitat. You can almost smell the fresh lemons.
The Childs in Norway. You can't tell much from this still, but the color palette was perfect here: all muted tones, the grass wall paper (classic northern European) and the blanket behind them in traditional patterns.
Julia at home in Cambridge, in the perfect kitchen with the perfect kitchen table, and all those infamous pots.
Saving a seat for you,
Christine
Movie Real Estate 