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Julie & Julia

Nora Ephron apparently wanted to sabotage her own film during the opening credits. First it’s the title. My mind can barely comprehend it and I fear of saying it out loud lest I choke on my own tongue. Then there is the discrepancy of the writer and the director. I’m pretty certain that Julie & Julia was written and directed by one Nora Ephron. However, the penultimate opening credit states “screenplay by Nora Ephron,” which then appropriately fades out only to be replaced with the credit: “directed by Nora Ephron.” I can understand if the credit for My Life in France by Julia Child and Alex Prud’homme and the eponymous book by Julie Powell, the two books from which the film has been adapted, was inserted between the writer and director credit, but it comes well before Ephron’s name.  At first I was annoyed by Ephron’s ego, then I was worried that the theater going public had been duped. Considering the difficulty of the title and dual credits, perhaps Ephron had deceived us all and instead of providing a light summer comedy, had tricked us into the theater to watch a complex, metaphysical film depicting the duality of women; in the style of Bergman’s Persona. My anxiety faded at the sight of Meryl Streep as Julia Child, wearing an infectious smile.

What Ephron does wrong in terms of title cards she does right in what John Huston considered the most important aspect of directing: casting. Has there ever been a less controversial choice of an actor to portray an iconic figure on film than Meryl Streep? She approaches the role of Child wisely, not as an important figure, aware of who she is and what she will become, but as a normal person, whose spirit, not to mention height, is higher than average. We first meet Julia Child in France, 1949. Her husband Paul (Stanley Tucci) is a foreign-service officer, temporarily assigned in Paris; Julia is not about to become a blasé, domesticated housewife. She decides to pursue her interests. Not finding the worlds of weaving hats and playing bridge exciting enough, she settles on cooking. Initially Julia is tormented in the all-male kitchen, humiliated even by her instructor. Later, when she becomes a teacher of French cooking to Americans in Paris, she makes an effort to always be supportive toward her students, even congratulating them on their mistakes in a sincere and joyful manner.  This effervescence could become irritating, but Streep handles her character in a delicate way, similar to Sally Hawkin’s portrayal of the even more cheerful Poppy in Happy-Go-Lucky.  Streep’s Child shows a determination and sense of hard work that justifies her cockiness and bravado. Her high-octane personality is accentuated by the church bell hymn of Child’s voice. Just like last year in Doubt, when Streep pounced at the opportunity of transforming a serious, overwritten character into a hammy, comedic goldmine, here she takes Julia Child’s unique vocal cords, and transforms words like “do” and “oh” into melodic symphonies.

Preventing the story of Julia Child from becoming a standard biopic is the counterpoint story of Julie Powell (Amy Adams), a twenty-nine year old would-be writer, living above a pizza shop in post 9/11 Queens. Out of desperation and in search of meaning, Powell decides to start a blog in which she’ll cook Julia Child’s entire cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, in one year. Powell is a wreck, which doesn’t help since her scenes are contrasted with the self-proclaimed fearless Child. Ephron has Powell crying in two separate scenes within the first five minutes.  Adams’ casting is essential. She is able to provide compassion to Powell, who is insecure and emotionally fragile.  We immediately empathize with her after we see her have lunch with her three friends. This scene is Ephron’s critique of the Sex and the City culture. That series and its subsequent film depicted women in New York as sex craved, vapid, vain, and ultimately boring, without any original thoughts, and a complete lack of understanding not only about men, but what it’s like to be a normal, functioning human being. Powell’s friends are depicted as rude and self-centered. Powell, on the other hand, is sweet and earnest, and in a highly compatible marriage.

The counterpoint between Julie and Julia provides a rare look into legacy. We often see great persons depicted in lavish and heavy-handed film biographies, where the director wants the audience to believe that this person was a vital part in the course of human history. In cases like Ghandi and Malcolm X that thesis can be justified. But does someone like Jim Braddock really need to be portrayed as if he cured the great depression?  Ephron portrays the life of Julia Child in a light, breezy tone; acceptable for the life she led. The Julie Powell segments allow us to better appreciate Child because we can see that she not only lived an extraordinary life, but that her legacy indeed affected others.

-Jason Bardin

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