Review: Julie & Julia (2009)

I don’t know what it is about movies that have food as their subject matter, but I fall for them every time. Maybe I should stop going to the theatre hungry or perhaps all that time spend in front of the Food Network has conditioned me to salivate at the sight of a sizzling frying pan, the chopping of onions, or the simmering of a stew. Regardless of my affinity for films about food – Big Night, Like Water for Chocolate, Eat Drink Man Woman, to name a few – Nora Ephron’s latest romantic comedy had me won over in its first scene, where we are witness to a sole meunière coming out of a frying pan. The dish is filet of sole that is cooked in a brown butter sauce and served with a slice of lemon. If that doesn’t get your mouth watering then you’ve got serious problems. More importantly in that first scene, we meet the six-foot-two Julia Child, played superbly by Meryl Streep, and her husband Paul, played by the likable Stanley Tucci. Child recalled in her autobiography My Life in France that the defining moment in her life came after eating this meal for the first time. The way that Streep sells that moment, you completely understand the passion and the enthusiasm for food that Child had. Throughout the scene, Julia and Paul groan, sigh, and clap their hands at the pure pleasure of the meal itself.

It is remarkable that a scene like that opening, without serious conflict or obvious dramatic beats, passes off as drama that is entertaining and captivating. The film’s energy and narrative drive comes through Child’s culinary journey in Paris and culminates in her bestselling cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Ephron doesn’t get bogged down in pointless subplots, contrived conflicts, or superfluous characters. Instead, she keeps the film light and frothy, with just enough body to reflect on later when the film is over. I’ve neglected to mention one of the most daring aspects of the film: it’s structure. The film is divided into two halves. One deals with Child’s life in Paris with her husband and her time in cooking school, while the other half deals with a Julie (Amy Adams), a Manhattan blogger and food enthusiast who plans to cook her way through Julia’s cookbook, one recipe at a time. While this part of the film is a little more conventional and plays up some of the romantic comedy touchstones – the need for personal growth, marital anxieties, and career success – Ephron handles the material in the same light touch and never gets too heavy-handed with the material. Perhaps most importantly, Ephron decides not to approach the material as a metaphor for something much more serious than it ought to be. She just lets the characters and the food speak for them.

Amy Adams is charming and believable as the naive Julie. While her character is not as exciting and showy as Julia (not many can be), Adams does manage to offer a nice contrast to Streep’s commanding presence. Even when separated by plot, time, and story, Streep’s performance as Child towers over everything in the film. Her shadow is felt throughout the scenes in Manhattan, despite Ephron’s ability to imbue them with their own dramatic thrust. A mild and unnecessary turning point comes later in the film when Julie and her husband, Eric (Chris Messina) have a fight that jeopardizes their relationship. It is only here that the film feels like a traditional romantic comedy. I was half expecting the characters to reunite at the airport to the music of John Mayer. Luckily, this “conflict” is dealt with quickly and doesn’t seriously hinder the film in any way. Ephron keeps the action focused on Julie and Julia’s relationship, which despite taking place over great spans of time and space, works because it hinges the transformative power of food.

Richard Saad
© Cinephile Magazine, 2009