Being Julia

Over-Hyped

Given all the recent formula-fiction blockbusters Hollywood has tossed our way in the past year, it is astonishing to me that this surprise re-emergence of Annette Bening -- truly one of America's most talented actresses -- is more impatient than any of those bigger-budget bores. I am not exactly sure what the director's point is here, but the film amounts to a painfully uninvolving remake of "Sunset Boulevard," only without the gravity of that classic masterpiece's riveting performances. Surely Bening steals the show here, and Jeremy Irons gives a predictably fine performance as "Julia's" sympathetic husband/manager. Despite their talent, however, the film moves at such a condescending pace and focuses so overwhelmingly on Julia's psychotic self-indulgence that we never have a chance to really care about her or anyone else. Why the director thought it would at all be entertaining to watch a spoiled, self-absorbed and successful actress meander through her petty ennui and love affairs is beyond me. Her whirlwind romance with a much younger boy ignites so rapidly as to be inexplicable. The characters are merely eccentric without any depth, and Julia, in particular, just comes off as a manic and far less interesting Blanche Dubois. This film may pass for mildly amusing light-fare for those who, like me, have been pining for a good Hollywood surprise or halfway-decent indie flick but haven't found one for months. It will linger with you about as long as a sip of coffee, but its sustained gaiety may just be charming enough for most audiences to happily endure.

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