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I just watched the film ‘Julie and Julia’. I think it was supposed to inspire me. Instead it made me want to drown myself in chocolate sauce. Not metaphorically. Rather I fancied the sugary death supplied by that particular foodstuff, as it seemed appropriate at the time.
Julie and Julia, judging by the cheerful front cover art and ‘hot pink’ DVD case promised a ‘FEELGOOD’ experience. Instead I was struck by the constant carnality of those involved. They were always fucking or eating. Underpinning this montage of fucking and eating (in the pretense of finding one’s self) was the terrible postmodern fear that nothing new can ever be achieved. Harold Bloom is stood behind the camera laughing manically, if you listen hard you’ll hear it hidden in the sound of Julie and Julia’s frantic whisking.
Instead of resolution and some kind of ‘MY MOTHER FINALLY APPROVES OF ME’ ending, we are told that Julia (The woman who wrote the book which inspired the blog, or is the other way around?) ‘hates’ the blog based on her book. They dismiss her as an old woman who probably doesn’t understand new-fangled technology. Julie and her husband decide it’s better never to meet the woman who brought Julie through the crisis of turning thirty. Julia (JULIE?) will always be in her head as a perfect motherly being.
Moral of the story ‘STUFF IS BETTER IN YOUR HEAD SO DON’T ATTEMPT TO WIN APPROVAL, CAUSE INEVITABLY YOU’LL NEVER BE GOOD OR ORIGINAL. JUST GO EAT BUTTER AND HAVE SOME SEX. YES?’
Perhaps actually quite a unusual moral for Hollywood RomComoftheSelf. (<—Look at that Harold Bloom, I just created a new genre to describe narcissistic films like Julie and Julia)
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