Using a complex algorithm, I have determined that the absolute worst Meryl Streep picture is still 92.7% better than the best Sharon Stone film, so imagine my pleasure at discovering that she had taken on the role of Julia Child- the pioneering TV chef, master of French Cuisine, who also having been enrolled in the school of espionage services, was a World War 2 Spy!
Together with the intensely likeable Amy Adams, who plays Julie Powell, a thirty-something who found fame by blogging along as she cooked her way though Child’s most famous work, the 730-odd page ‘Mastering the Art of French cooking’ in her tiny apartment kitchen, they star in Nora Ephron’s flick about ambition, love, identity, success and, of course, cooking.
The film intertwines 1950s Paris with Twenty-First century Queens, New York and shows both women, restlessly trying to figure out what it is they should do with their lives that will make them excited and content. It’s mostly a gentle, glamorous affair with very little conflict, but there are heartbreaking moments – Julia Child’s inability to have children made me cry like a baby, and when her husband (played by the wonderful Stanley Tucci) declared: “you are the butter to my bread, you are the breath to my life” I am afraid there were hankies at the ready once more.
It’s a perfect Sunday afternoon film. I suggest you lock yourself indoors, get a thick winter stew bubbling on your stove, wrap up in a duvet and tuck in: mouthwatering chocolate cream pie, beef bourguignonne and buttery lobster awaits.