At long last...
...a writer I respect - James Wolcott - takes on the cult of Julia:
What is it about Julia Roberts that reduces grown men to such goops? ...reviewers use the occasion of her Broadway debut to pay slave tribute to her plebian-royal majesty, swooning as if no pair of goggles devised by science is strong enough to shield the eyes from the solar radiance of her beauty whenever she parts those lush lips and gives us one of her heehaw grins.
...David Edelstein in this week's New York magazine cover story is so besotted that he actually writes, reviewing the highs and lows of her movie career, "And, oh, what a joy it was to see her get her mojo back in My Best Friend’s Wedding"--that piece of dreck.
I have never understood the fascination with Julia. Never saw Pretty Woman. All she did in Sleeping in the Enemy was scream seven times. In Erin Brokovich, I thought she showed an emotional range of A and Z - not A to Z - A and Z. She was brittle and unappealing in Ocean's Eleven which contributed to my skipping Ocean's Twelve. Nope - I've never understood.
Hee Haw!
