Last night I accepted an invitation to see the film Julie & Julia with one of my neighbour-foxes – we’d been talking about seeing it for a while, and although I’ve had a lingering cold, and had already turned down a birthday dinner invitation for a dear friend (I just couldn’t muster the “party” spirit) I reasoned that I could recline in a darkened movie theatre with popcorn, a coke, and a sachet of Kleenex at 9 PM. I’m so happy we made this date.
I limited my intake of the movie reviews when it first opened several weeks ago – I didn’t want to spoil it for myself. For me, the upsides were that Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci were portraying the Childs. Meryl? Always fantastic, in just about anything, anywhere. I don’t even need to talk about how great she is. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stanley Tucci in a crappy role, like, ever. (I love him – I think he’s a magnificent actor, and probably loved him best in The Big Night, another fab food movie.) I’ve seen Julia Child’s biography a few times, and have always found her pretty fascinating. The downside was that it was a Nora Ephron film, and though I’ve enjoyed many of her movies, they definitely fall to the chick-flick genre. (Not always a good thing.) Amy Adams is a pretty good actor, I think (my favorite was her role in Junebug – wonderful!) but I wasn’t sure how she’d do in this film. In the end, I found her a bit weak, but she’s cast against MERYL STREEP for crying out loud, so it’s rather easy for her to pale by comparison. But you know what? I loved it.
Meryl is outstanding in this performance. She was spot-on with her portrayal of Julia Child, from voice to mannerisms, and she was consistent throughout the whole film. I wish I could have seen her onscreen more. There have been many impersonators of Child in the past, (including Dan Akroyd’s SNL version, which is in the film) what with that signature voice and her bigness as a woman, that make it easy to poke fun, but I think Streep portrayed her accurately. I watched her cooking show with my mother when I was little, and though at the time I cared nary a wit about food and preparation and cooking, I remember her voice (seemed so strange!) and her long-blinking eyes, and her leaning, genuflecting mannerisms… I remember them well. I didn’t care what she talked about, but I DO remember thinking how does that enormous woman move like she’s just a bitty thing? Amazing. Streep showed Child to be a perfectly charming, smart, loving, lovely person. I wish I could have known her.
I also remember watching her on Martha Stewart’s TV show years ago, when she invited the awesome chef to the studio to make Child’s own recipe for a croquembouche (a tower of cream-filled puff-pastry bites, held together and drizzled with carmelised sugar… amazing to look at!) and they got set to bake, fill, and assemble. They each made one. At the end of the segment, there was a shot of Julia’s plate, piled high with her lovely confections… and then they cut to the wide shot of Martha, standing next to her “idol” with a completely symmetrical, bulletproof version, easily 10 inches taller than Julia’s own, with this nest-like sugar in magnificent wisps she created by using a whisk with snipped ends lunged into the vat of hot sugar, and then whipped into the air onto a cooling rack (which I’m sure she had constructed JUST for sugar-spinning) so it all lay like golden straw. She fashioned it into a crunchy nest at the base of her platter, and on the top for garnish. Martha was beaming. She called Julia’s a “rustic” version. Julia looked gracious and quiet. ACK!! Jesus, woman… I was mortified watching the screen. BAD form, Martha. SHAME!! I couldn’t believe she would upstage Julia like that. Rude. (That’s the moment when my love for Martha started to waver, by the way.)
In the film, the marriage between Julia and Paul seemed to be perfect. The story and dialog were crafted from letters collected over the years between Paul and his brother, and between Julia and her long-time pen-pal, Avis. Certainly, all the good points of their relationship are highlighted, but they had a long love affair, those two. The way they loved and handled each other, the things they said, the way Paul had a way of calming and soothing his near-hysterical wife in that eye-to-eye, neutralizing, honest way… well, that was very close to home for me. I did hear people harp about how “perfect” their marriage seemed to be, and YES it’s a movie, and I’m certain they fought now and then like regular people… but I know this kind of day-to-day marriage-life to be such a reality, because I have a love like that. I really do.
The similarities between Paul and my own darling husband were a bit arresting. Gentlemanly, charming, elegant in manner and dress… sweetly-talking-his-wife-off-the-ledge kinda stuff, the smoldering look in his eye that says her loves her with all his heart… um, yeah. I’m a lucky bitch that way. And I gushingly, crushingly adore him too. Of course we’re not perfect every day (not nearly) but our support for each other is unwavering, which is completely rad, and I always think he’s nifty, and I tell him so at nearly every opportunity. What would a married life be if one wasn’t treated sweetly and reminded of why one picked the other from time to time? And why not every day? It’s waaaaaay better than carping. It just is. It makes life easier to live.
I loved watching the foods being prepared. I know the dance of orchestrating a meal with precision and determination, envisioning the next step before you make it, tossing something into the oven, then picking up spoon to stir, then taste (but on a different spoon, please) and the gentle rhythm of the chop, chop, chop… a life with small children in it doesn’t often lend itself to such freedom to stay on task with more complex meals. Which explains my culinary short-comings for the past, um, couple of years. (But this too shall pass.) This is part of the reason that many of the worlds best chefs are men, or childless women. (Not all, but many.) There’s a time factor at work here… and it’s not only the case with cooking either… but I digress.
Of course the whole other aspect to the story, the blog challenge of Julie Powell to cook 524 recipes in 365 days (including boning a duck!) was fun to watch, and I identified with her terror about blogging. (Ahem.) But I really enjoyed the Julia throw-back bits much better. All those scenes of France in the 50′s was just stunning to watch. Ladies in hats. Gloves. Frocks. Gorgeous.
As I watched Julia and her sister Dorothy (played by awesome-lady Jane Lynch from 40-Year-Old Virgin and Glee, amongst others) kibitz in that sisterly way – that way that drives some husbands and other people around them CRAY-ZEE sometimes – I missed my own sister. We are similar in our ways when we’re together, thrilled to see each other, and giddy… finishing each other’s sentences and such, as if we have our own language. Much like Julia and Dorothy. Only much, much smaller. We are, to their needlessly tallness, positively pocket-sized.
I just loved the story. I love Julia Child. And naturally, now I want my own copy of her cookbook Mastering the Art of French Cooking, since I did not steal my mother’s copy of it (and I’m pretty sure she had one once) especially now that my precious Gourmet magazine is gone forever, and my birthday is coming… (thank you Martin.)
G.G.
