Julie and Julia is a wonderfully lighthearted movie about food, love, and determination. Written and directed by well-known happy-movie doyenne Nora Ephron (the maker of such chick-flick blockbusters as When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, and You’ve Got Mail), Julie and Julia tells two stories. One is about Julia Child’s rise to fame and continuing influence on food culture; the other is about a frustrated food blogger who decides to make all 524 recipes in Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year.
There’s little doubt that Julie and Julia will make you happy — and hungry. Images of lovely food abound, the laughs are nearly constant, and the storyline only touches on more serious topics, such as infertility and 9/11. The wonderfully tender and passionate love stories — between the title characters and their supportive husbands, and between those characters and food — are an added bonus.
The movie opens in Rouen, France, in 1949 with Julia and Paul Child eating a meal of sole meunière in a charming French bistro. Julia’s reaction to the sole is classic Julia Child — loud, warbling, radiant happiness. It’s no real surprise that Meryl Streep masters Julia Child with near-supernatural perfection — it seems less acting than channeling a spirit. But it isn’t just the warbled voice and wild variations in volume that Streep captures. She manages the subtle movements of Julia’s body as well. In one scene Child, still in France, is at a bookstore trying to explain to the clerk her need for an English-language French cookbook. Upon being told there is no such cookbook, Julia places her fist on the table, leans back, and draws in a deep breath. It is a subtle tic that fans of Child’s cooking shows will instantly recognize.
Amy Adams is adorable and eager as she plays Julie Powell, a modern-day frustrated cubicle-dweller, secret gourmet, and food blogger. The only issue with her performance lies more in the writing than the acting — she sometimes sounds like she’s reading her blog entries, even when she’s talking to her husband. Despite this, Julie captures both the frustration of bloggers (is anyone out there? is anyone reading this?) and that of cooking in a small kitchen (where in the heck am I going to put a scalding-hot cookie sheet in this 5x5 room?).
At one point, Powell has a meltdown, screaming, “How can I cook in here?” It’s a moment any home cook with insufficient space can relate to — and be reassured by. In a time when even people who rarely cook get kitchen renovations complete with $20,000 professional-grade ranges with so many head-scratching accessories (such as platinum knobs and the oh-so-useful “dehydrate” and “proof” cooking modes), it’s nice to watch Powell prepare such French classics as boeuf bourguignon, chocolate soufflé, hollandaise sauce, and tarte Tatin in her small apartment.
The movie, without overreaching, also focuses on several similarities between the women — most notably the love they have for their husbands. Paul Child, solidly portrayed by bareheaded Stanley Tucci, encourages Julia to pursue her interests and supports her through the difficult years in which she works on the cookbook. There are incredibly touching moments between Julia and Paul — slightly shocking intimate scenes, as well as tender moments where the script addresses Julia’s sadness over never bearing a child.
Powell’s husband, like Paul Child, is sweet and supportive, though he finally blows up when Julie’s blog obsession goes overboard. They too share sweet moments — most memorably, he comforts Powell after she finds out the unbearable truth that Julia Child does not like her blog.
The movie also, perhaps unintentionally, transmits a wonderful (and dare I say it, truly feminist) message about women doing things on their own. Julia Child couldn’t find a French cookbook written in English, so she wrote one herself. Julie Powell wanted to learn to cook — so she taught herself, albeit with a little help from Julia, her “great big good fairy.”
The movie also shows how much Julia Child loved and respected American home cooks. In her first meeting with a prospective publisher, the executives condescendingly explain to Julia that “housewives want something quick.” But Julia Child wasn’t interested in quick meals. She wanted to teach American cooks classic (translation: hard) French cooking — the cooking of Larousse and Escoffier. She trusted American cooks; she knew they could learn and wanted to be taught.
Given the hit shows on the Food Network (arguably the most influential food programming around today), which include
30 Minute Meals,
Ten Dollar Dinners,
5 Ingredient Fix, and
Quick Fix Meals, it appears the attitude has returned to that 1960s impression of the home cook just wanting “something quick.” Perhaps that’s why Julia’s shows still draw viewers on PBS, and why
Mastering the Art of French Cooking is still a top seller.
— Julie Gunlock is a senior fellow at the Independent Women’s Forum.
