The problem with Julie & Julia is obvious. Even though Julie is basically the reason why the movie exists (thanks to the project, the blog, the book), and even though she’s played by Amy Adams (styled like a baby Miranda Hobbes, shot on location in Astoria *heart*)… you really want the whole movie to be about Julia. Her half of the film is based on her autobiography, My Life in France, which I apparently have to read now.
Everything about Julia is fabulous. Meryl Streep having an obvious blast playing her. Stanley Tucci is a scene-stealer as her husband Paul; I could have seen a whole movie just about their relationship. Jane Lynch as her sister — inspired casting. And Julia was just a fascinating & inspiring character anyway, from her work during the war to her relatively-late-in-life marriage & (later still) commercial success.
That said, I enjoyed it for what it is. It’s fluff, sure, but can we take a minute to appreciate that it’s fluff that has nothing to do with catching or keeping a man? And then, perhaps, another moment to be sad that such a thing is worth noting.