Julia Child did not much approve of Julie Powell’s self-absorbed and derivative blog. After digesting Nora Ephron’s saccharine and unbalanced film, one cannot help but agree.

As Child’s peers have noted, Powell had nothing new to contribute to the world of culinary writing. Instead, we have to watch her waste half the screen time in vain pursuit of public validation. Listening to her wax emo about the deliciousness of butter does not make me salivate or eager to cook; it makes me want to fast forward to the scenes with Meryl Streep delivering a pitch perfect rendition of the grande dame of the American kitchen.

Amy Adams is a likable and competent actor, but the whiny, neurotic role she’s given is peanuts compared to Streep’s performance which is brimming with Child’s joie de vivre and refreshing lack of pretense. Close friends such as the great Jacques Pepin have commented on the respectful and realistic portrayal of this much beloved woman who introduced the brilliance of French cuisine to North America in a delightfully humorous and accessible way. (If anyone makes a film titled, “Julia & Jacques”, I’ll be first in line!)

It’s baffling that anyone would bother making only half a film about Julia Child. The few stars I give are solely out of my deep and long-standing admiration for her.