Monday, 16 August 2010

Letters by Greenberg: Julia Roberts Struggled With Pasta Shoot On Eat Pray Love

Letters by Greenberg was born out of the Noah Baumbach film starring Ben Stiller and Rhys Ifans in which its namesake writes beautifully insulting diatribes to corporations. I write to anyone I think needs to check themselves that week. We've all wanted to tell Britney to stop wearing bad weave to get attention cos we all know she's got enough bank and medication to know a decent hairdresser when she sees one. We've all wanted to tell Alicia Keys to stop being such a smug married with Swiss shady Beats. We've all wanted to rant at another self important journalist who thinks he/she can define a genre/event/human being in the space of 20 words (ahem). 

Dear Julia,

                 I love "Mystic Pizza", you were curvy and you had Botticelli curls that would make Andy McDowell consider relocating and a career in dentistry, I loved you in "Sleeping with the Enemy" and "Steel Magnolias". Hell, I even loved you in "Mona Lisa Smile", an obvious let-'s make some big money out of Julia vehicle not even befitting of your charm. However, what I do not like and cannot abide is your phony closed mouth smile in the Lancome ads where you pretend to be a serious actress. Nor can I stand the fact you seem to think being a serious actress entails becoming progressively unlike the sexy girl of yesteryear as seen in "Pretty Woman" and hate to say it again "Mystic Pizza", and now I hear you cried like a bitch over having to eat a whole bowl of the heat...what happened to you?! You used to be ballsy, your smile was never the nauseating sunshine that was Meg Ryan, you were the girl we could imagine telling the Ivy League to fuck off and stop telling women how to live their lives, you were the girl who made thigh highs look like something that made sense somehow, you were the small town girl with a mean left hook and a big heart, you were the woman who threatened to topple our feminine orbits with that knowing look you tried not to give Jude Law in "Closer"  (but you stole him from Natalie Portman anyway didn't ya? Cos you just couldn't help yourself!) Post babies and a camera man coup later and the hair gets straighter and lighter and dryer giving the effect of a wilted bit of bark and your career too is now a little wilted in my eyes. It, like your hair, lacks the easy sparkle that used to emanate from those smiling eyes. And now here we are many years after I watched you serving up pizza and imagining you might be the kinda woman who knew how to eat it and it just seems like you've lost your appetite. Who cries over too much spaghetti?! In the country of its origins?! Real, down home Italian cooking = heaven. No question, no arguments, no disputes that is just a immemorial truth, like Javier Bardem being one of the hottest men to ever grace the screen...indisputable. I thereby pronounce the old Julia: sexy, hearty, finger licking good Julia deceased and in her place shall live a fembot who cries when confronted with the glorious langor that is a day of eating well made carbs.

 Yours Sincerely,


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