Let's get down to business. The subject at hand: as I said earlier today I hadn't seen "Julie & Julia" until last night.
Here are my thoughts:
1.) Meryl Streep was extraordinary, she WAS Julia Child. The voice! I couldn't believe it.
2.) "Julia" made me fall in love with Paris all over again. Her childlike curiosity, her giddy appreciation of everything French, the sweet way she charmed shop owners, the way she swooned over a perfect mayonnaise. Wonderful.
3.) Yes, a little less Julie and a lot more Julia would have made the film blissful perfection for me. Every time the scenes left Paris, I felt let down. Yes, I appreciate the context, but still. . .
Inside Dehillerin, the famous cookware emporium in the 1st arrondissement. One could spend hours there.
4.) The apartments, the cooking, the kitchens, the cookware, the joy of cooking (!), the delight in discovery, the markets, the food -- well, you know. I wanted MORE.
5.) Before anyone points out, and rightly so, that the idea was the blog, cooking the book in one year, Julia saving Julie and so on, you may be (probably are) right. Still, I hold my ground.
6.) More power to Julie for her phenomenal success. Her idea was great. She probably realized most bloggers dreams.
Now, this is what I loved most about the film, the love affair, the kindness, the amorous looks, the shared humor, the mutual support between Julia and Paul. I was teary as I watched their portrayals because I have always heard they were deeply in love. A friend of mine, who was also a spy (and a fabulous cook), knew her and said it was lovely to see Julia and Paul together. Everything about them seemed easy and right, no temper, no hysteria, no me, me, me. Is "civilized" the word? Yes, but not as a facade, but rather as part of respect for their couple, their love.
I received my first "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" (which I haven't btw) from my mother as an engagement present -- for my first marriage. I particularly appreciated her appreciating the book because, and she admitted this herself, she was one of the world's worst cooks. I knew it was time to get out of bed and get dressed for school when I smelled toast burning -- Monday through Friday. She just never got the hang of the toaster.
My book is now splattered and tattered, but I cannot part with it, both for Julia and my mother.
On another note: Murphy left a question which I plan to answer tomorrow because it's been on my mind for quite some time. The question is: Does the average, chic French woman own only about 20 items or is this an urban legend? I'll tell you tomorrow.