2½ stars out of four
Screenplay by Nora Ephron, based on books by Julie Powell and Julia Child
Directed by Ephron
Starring Meryl Streep, Amy Adams, Stanley Tucci, Chris Messina, Mary-Lynn Rajskub & Jane Lynch
• • •
The trailer:
The plot (as described by studio flacks): Julia Child (Meryl Streep) and Julie Powell (Amy Adams) are featured in an adaptation of two bestselling memoirs: Powell's "Julie & Julia," and "My Life in France," by Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme. Two women who separated by time and space are both at loose ends ... until they discover that with the right combination of passion, fearlessness and butter, anything is possible.
My review: Amy Adams is perilously close to achieving terminal cuteness. For all of her skill as an actor, her chief asset is how downright adorable she is. It's why Frank Abagnale chose her in "Catch Me If You Can," and why seemingly the entire film world fell in love with her in "Enchanted." There are moments in "Julie & Julia" where she's just so ... precious. It gets to be too much.
In fact, the "Julie" half of "Julie & Julia" is entirely too much, with its heaping helpings of forced laughter and unconvincing melodrama. Julie Powell (Adams) is fed up with her job at a 9/11 relief agency, feels disconnected from her husband (Messina) and hates her gigantic New York City apartment. (After all, it's above a pizza place. Oh, the humanity! How a cubicle-bound bureaucrat and an editor at Archaeology magazine could afford it, though, I'll never know.)
She decides to fill the void in her life by attempting every recipe in Julia Child's "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" in one year, and blogging about it each night. The main attraction of this half of the movie is ogling the food; the beef bourguignon looked incredible.
The "Julia" half of the movie is fascinating and funny, chronicling the life of the master chef (Streep) from her arrival in France to the publication of her first, famous cookbook. Meryl Streep almost certainly has another Oscar nomination waiting for her in February -- it's a performance that goes beyond imitation and into personification, much like Cate Blanchett's turn as Katherine Hepburn in "The Aviator." Just as good is Tucci as her husband Paul, portrayed here as the kindest, most encouraging man on the face of the Earth.
The movie does not delve deep into Paul and Julia's experiences as agents of the OSS. We get fleeting glimpses of Paul appearing before HUAC, and one dinner conversation where Julia denies the couple were ever spies, but that's it. The "Julia" half of the movie is focused squarely on their love for food and for each other, and since they are brought to life so effortlessly by Ephron's screenplay and the two actors, that's all we in the audience really need.
And it's all we want, for that matter. We don't want endless scenes of Adams reading aloud whatever she's typing on her computer. (Between this and "You've Got Mail" -- everything considered, a more wholly successful movie than this one -- Ephron must be cinema's foremost director of talky-typey scenes.) Thankfully, Rajskub (Chloe from "24") shows up periodically as Julie's best friend, poking holes in whatever crisis, real or imagined, Julie is facing.
As the film drew to a close, I feared it would concoct some sort of fantasy sequence where Julie and Julia would meet, managing to tie the two stories together in some cosmic fashion. This does not happen. But neither does any solid connection between the two women, any sense of kinship. Julie Powell may love Julia Child, but Child never got the chance to love her back.
When it's all over, we are left very hungry, and very eager to try cooking that beef bourguignon. But mostly we're left asking why -- why wasn't the movie just called "Julia"?
Friday, August 7, 2009
John Hughes • 1950-2009
The death of John Hughes is surprising, but it hasn't really gotten to me, even after I realized that my friends, co-workers, family and I quote something from one of his movies every goddamn day.
It seems like John Hughes has already been dead for years. He hasn't directed a movie since "Curly Sue" in 1991, and that's not exactly one you remember him for, is it? In some ways, John Hughes was like the 1980s movie equivalent of The Beatles -- his work was so important to so many, and it was accomplished over so short a time.
Nearly every teen comedy since "Ferris Bueller" owes some kind of debt to John Hughes' body of work, with the possible exception of "Juno." (You might not like Diablo Cody's writing, but you can't deny it is uniquely hers.) Have the generations that followed us been given movies anywhere near the caliber of "The Breakfast Club" or "Sixteen Candles"? No, and it's terrible that John didn't further share his genius with the kids that came after "Ferris."
And he was a genius. I have "Ferris Bueller" on as I'm writing this, and I continue to be awed by its perfection. It's the kind of movie where almost every line of dialogue is funny, and Hughes the director helps Hughes the screenwriter every step of the way; check out the scene where Ben Stein lectures on the Hawley-Smoot tariff, and watch the cuts between the close-ups of his dumbfounded students. It's just perfectly timed, perfectly acted, and just ... right. It's as airtight and well-constructed as "Back to the Future."
One of the happiest memories of my moviegoing life is seeing "Ferris" at a midnight revival screening at the AMC 30 South Barrington. The sold-out crowd laughed hysterically, applauded enthusiastically, and even clapped along to "Twist & Shout." I had a genuine chill-up-the-spine moment in that screening: Ed Rooney tells who he thinks is Ferris Bueller to "pucker up, buttercup." His secretary comes in and says, "FERRIS BUELLER ON LINE TWO!" The camera pushes in on Rooney, horrified, as a musical stinger blasts the audience. The theater went apeshit with cheering and applause. We all knew it was coming, and we all loved it.
I don't know exactly why John Hughes decided to leave the film industry behind -- one might guess it has something to do with fallout from the incredible success of "Home Alone," which he wrote for director Chris Columbus -- but I hope he found happiness out on his Harvard, Ill., farm. He sure didn't sound happy on the DVD commentary he recorded a few years back for "Ferris."
If there's one movie you need to watch again in the wake of the news, it's "Planes, Trains & Automobiles." When you hear "John Hughes," you think first of his teen flicks, and "PT&A" kinda gets lost in the shuffle, which is a shame. Steve Martin and John Candy probably give the best performances of their careers in that film, another that Hughes both wrote and directed. You know "Ferris" and "Weird Science" by heart; reacquaint yourself with Del Griffith and Neal Page.
It seems like John Hughes has already been dead for years. He hasn't directed a movie since "Curly Sue" in 1991, and that's not exactly one you remember him for, is it? In some ways, John Hughes was like the 1980s movie equivalent of The Beatles -- his work was so important to so many, and it was accomplished over so short a time.
Nearly every teen comedy since "Ferris Bueller" owes some kind of debt to John Hughes' body of work, with the possible exception of "Juno." (You might not like Diablo Cody's writing, but you can't deny it is uniquely hers.) Have the generations that followed us been given movies anywhere near the caliber of "The Breakfast Club" or "Sixteen Candles"? No, and it's terrible that John didn't further share his genius with the kids that came after "Ferris."
And he was a genius. I have "Ferris Bueller" on as I'm writing this, and I continue to be awed by its perfection. It's the kind of movie where almost every line of dialogue is funny, and Hughes the director helps Hughes the screenwriter every step of the way; check out the scene where Ben Stein lectures on the Hawley-Smoot tariff, and watch the cuts between the close-ups of his dumbfounded students. It's just perfectly timed, perfectly acted, and just ... right. It's as airtight and well-constructed as "Back to the Future."
One of the happiest memories of my moviegoing life is seeing "Ferris" at a midnight revival screening at the AMC 30 South Barrington. The sold-out crowd laughed hysterically, applauded enthusiastically, and even clapped along to "Twist & Shout." I had a genuine chill-up-the-spine moment in that screening: Ed Rooney tells who he thinks is Ferris Bueller to "pucker up, buttercup." His secretary comes in and says, "FERRIS BUELLER ON LINE TWO!" The camera pushes in on Rooney, horrified, as a musical stinger blasts the audience. The theater went apeshit with cheering and applause. We all knew it was coming, and we all loved it.
I don't know exactly why John Hughes decided to leave the film industry behind -- one might guess it has something to do with fallout from the incredible success of "Home Alone," which he wrote for director Chris Columbus -- but I hope he found happiness out on his Harvard, Ill., farm. He sure didn't sound happy on the DVD commentary he recorded a few years back for "Ferris."
If there's one movie you need to watch again in the wake of the news, it's "Planes, Trains & Automobiles." When you hear "John Hughes," you think first of his teen flicks, and "PT&A" kinda gets lost in the shuffle, which is a shame. Steve Martin and John Candy probably give the best performances of their careers in that film, another that Hughes both wrote and directed. You know "Ferris" and "Weird Science" by heart; reacquaint yourself with Del Griffith and Neal Page.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Are you fucking kidding me?
Pardon my French, but come the fuck on. Dick Morris basically says fuck Euna Lee and Laura Ling, they get what they deserve for having gone to North Korea in the first place.
The Five-Timers Club
Update (9/9): Make that seven times.
Update (8/14): I've now seen "Star Trek" a sixth time, thanks to the $2 show at BG Theatres.
No, this isn't about the famous "Saturday Night Live" sketch, it's about movies I've seen five or more times in a theater.
This comes up because tonight, after going downtown for screenings of "District 9" and "Bandslam" -- reviews coming in the Aug. 14 edition of your Daily Herald! -- Lisa and I went to Randhurst to see "Star Trek" again. It was her second time, my fifth. I know, rationally, that "Star Trek" is not a great film, but boy, does it make me happy.
The list of films I've seen five or more times in a theater contains some embarrassing titles, to be sure; keep in mind that I wanted to love the "Star Wars" prequels so badly that I convinced myself they were good. On DVD, however, the truth won out, especially on the dreadful "Attack of the Clones." So here are the members of my five-timers club:
9
"Star Wars: Episode I -- The Phantom Menace"
8
"Independence Day"
7
"The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring"
"Star Trek" (2009)
6
"Magnolia"
"Titanic"
5
"The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King"
"Star Wars: Episode II -- Attack of the Clones"
I may have also seen "Moulin Rouge!" five times, but I cannot find the documentation to support it. (I have every ticket stub since "Pulp Fiction" in January of 1995 at the now-defunct Ridge Cinemas in Arlington Heights, but I can't find all of them from the Buffalo Grove Theatres for some reason. But I know they're somewhere.)
Update (8/14): I've now seen "Star Trek" a sixth time, thanks to the $2 show at BG Theatres.
No, this isn't about the famous "Saturday Night Live" sketch, it's about movies I've seen five or more times in a theater.
This comes up because tonight, after going downtown for screenings of "District 9" and "Bandslam" -- reviews coming in the Aug. 14 edition of your Daily Herald! -- Lisa and I went to Randhurst to see "Star Trek" again. It was her second time, my fifth. I know, rationally, that "Star Trek" is not a great film, but boy, does it make me happy.
The list of films I've seen five or more times in a theater contains some embarrassing titles, to be sure; keep in mind that I wanted to love the "Star Wars" prequels so badly that I convinced myself they were good. On DVD, however, the truth won out, especially on the dreadful "Attack of the Clones." So here are the members of my five-timers club:
9
"Star Wars: Episode I -- The Phantom Menace"
8
"Independence Day"
7
"The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring"
"Star Trek" (2009)
6
"Magnolia"
"Titanic"
5
"The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King"
"Star Wars: Episode II -- Attack of the Clones"
I may have also seen "Moulin Rouge!" five times, but I cannot find the documentation to support it. (I have every ticket stub since "Pulp Fiction" in January of 1995 at the now-defunct Ridge Cinemas in Arlington Heights, but I can't find all of them from the Buffalo Grove Theatres for some reason. But I know they're somewhere.)
Monday, August 3, 2009
Wes Anderson and "Sleeping Beauty"
First, a tip of the cap to Jason Sperb, whose blog inspired me to watch "The Life Aquatic" on Sunday.
In the past 36 hours, I watched both "The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou" and "Sleeping Beauty," two films that appear to have nothing in common, aside from being Disney releases. But as I watched "Sleeping Beauty" this morning -- with commentary by critic Leonard Maltin, Disney/Pixar guru John Lasseter, and animator Andreas Deja -- I couldn't stop thinking about Wes Anderson's colorful confection.
"Sleeping Beauty," released in 1959, was quite a stylistic departure for Walt Disney's animated products. The story was familiar, of course -- it's nearly the same as "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs," minus the dwarfs -- but the visuals were not. Uncle Walt entrusted artist Eyvind Earle to dictate the film's look, and what he got was a motion picture that looked like a medieval tapestry coming to life. Extensive use of the multiplane camera technique that Disney himself invented lent the film a dimensionality that even masterpieces like "Pinocchio" and "Fantasia" lacked, and all of Earle's meticulously detailed background paintings were kept in focus at all times. The film was presented in a 2.55:1 aspect ratio -- wider than today's widescreen films -- and printed on 70mm film in a process that Walt dubbed "Super Technirama 70." The result was an incredibly gorgeous film that is finally available in its original format on Disney's latest DVD and Blu-ray releases.
"The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou," released by Disney's Touchstone Pictures in 2004, was Texas auteur Wes Anderson's most ambitious film in scope, if not in subject matter. Like all of Anderson's films, "Zissou" gives us super-saturated colors and clear-focused widescreen frames packed with detail -- and that's why it kept creeping into my head when I was watching "Sleeping Beauty."
While we can argue over whether Anderson's dark, ironic films connect with us emotionally, there's no arguing that he consistently delivers flat-out beautiful films. (I consider it a great tragedy that I did not see "The Darjeeling Limited" in a theater.) There are frames of "Zissou" that almost demand to be paused, just so you can see everything that's happening. Steve Zissou's tour of his boat is such a sequence; Anderson gives us a cutaway set of the entire vessel, roaming from room to room in one unbroken shot. On the DVD commentary, he says the set was inspired by drawings in World Book encyclopedias and Time-Life books he pored over in his youth.
Techniques and details like that -- along with the eye-popping colors and Anderson's penchant for using titles -- lend Anderson's films a sort of magical quality that seems odd for his subject matter. Of course, that odd combination is a huge part of why Anderson's films work.
And then there's "Sleeping Beauty," which truly is magical. Two scenes in "Sleeping Beauty" deserve to be mentioned among the all-time greatest. One is a stunning forest panorama in which Princess Aurora serenades the animals with "Once Upon a Dream," and the other is Prince Philip's climactic confrontation with the evil fairy Maleficent, whose transformation into a dragon must have been simply astonishing to the moviegoers of 1959. (Man, do I wish I could see a pristine print of "Sleeping Beauty" on the big screen.)
I guess it's highly improbable that the guy who gave us "Rushmore" and "Bottle Rocket" could have been influenced by "Sleeping Beauty," but I find the visual parallels to be fascinating. Anderson's next film, "Fantastic Mr. Fox," employs stop-motion animation and looks like it hasn't abandoned any of the director's techniques. Maybe the parallels will continue to reveal themselves this November.
• • •
These aren't the best quality, but you get the idea.
In the past 36 hours, I watched both "The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou" and "Sleeping Beauty," two films that appear to have nothing in common, aside from being Disney releases. But as I watched "Sleeping Beauty" this morning -- with commentary by critic Leonard Maltin, Disney/Pixar guru John Lasseter, and animator Andreas Deja -- I couldn't stop thinking about Wes Anderson's colorful confection.
"Sleeping Beauty," released in 1959, was quite a stylistic departure for Walt Disney's animated products. The story was familiar, of course -- it's nearly the same as "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs," minus the dwarfs -- but the visuals were not. Uncle Walt entrusted artist Eyvind Earle to dictate the film's look, and what he got was a motion picture that looked like a medieval tapestry coming to life. Extensive use of the multiplane camera technique that Disney himself invented lent the film a dimensionality that even masterpieces like "Pinocchio" and "Fantasia" lacked, and all of Earle's meticulously detailed background paintings were kept in focus at all times. The film was presented in a 2.55:1 aspect ratio -- wider than today's widescreen films -- and printed on 70mm film in a process that Walt dubbed "Super Technirama 70." The result was an incredibly gorgeous film that is finally available in its original format on Disney's latest DVD and Blu-ray releases.
"The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou," released by Disney's Touchstone Pictures in 2004, was Texas auteur Wes Anderson's most ambitious film in scope, if not in subject matter. Like all of Anderson's films, "Zissou" gives us super-saturated colors and clear-focused widescreen frames packed with detail -- and that's why it kept creeping into my head when I was watching "Sleeping Beauty."
While we can argue over whether Anderson's dark, ironic films connect with us emotionally, there's no arguing that he consistently delivers flat-out beautiful films. (I consider it a great tragedy that I did not see "The Darjeeling Limited" in a theater.) There are frames of "Zissou" that almost demand to be paused, just so you can see everything that's happening. Steve Zissou's tour of his boat is such a sequence; Anderson gives us a cutaway set of the entire vessel, roaming from room to room in one unbroken shot. On the DVD commentary, he says the set was inspired by drawings in World Book encyclopedias and Time-Life books he pored over in his youth.
Techniques and details like that -- along with the eye-popping colors and Anderson's penchant for using titles -- lend Anderson's films a sort of magical quality that seems odd for his subject matter. Of course, that odd combination is a huge part of why Anderson's films work.
And then there's "Sleeping Beauty," which truly is magical. Two scenes in "Sleeping Beauty" deserve to be mentioned among the all-time greatest. One is a stunning forest panorama in which Princess Aurora serenades the animals with "Once Upon a Dream," and the other is Prince Philip's climactic confrontation with the evil fairy Maleficent, whose transformation into a dragon must have been simply astonishing to the moviegoers of 1959. (Man, do I wish I could see a pristine print of "Sleeping Beauty" on the big screen.)
I guess it's highly improbable that the guy who gave us "Rushmore" and "Bottle Rocket" could have been influenced by "Sleeping Beauty," but I find the visual parallels to be fascinating. Anderson's next film, "Fantastic Mr. Fox," employs stop-motion animation and looks like it hasn't abandoned any of the director's techniques. Maybe the parallels will continue to reveal themselves this November.
• • •
These aren't the best quality, but you get the idea.
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