George Clooney is the Cary Grant of my generation. Rakish, devilish, hairy-chest handsome, my favorite kind of man actor. His latest film is my favorite genre, a modern-day romance. And I watched it alone, which is my favorite way to see a movie. Maybe all these things make me biased but I loved "Up in the Air." The banter was witty a la Philadelphia Story, funny at times, dark at others and not sappy. The dialogue just sparkled. I don't know who wrote the script -- Reitman? -- but it's good.
Speaking of sappy, I also watched Julie and Julia on DVD. Of course I loved the Julia part; she's a great character. Americans love people who defy convention, especially ones who show up the French. I did not love so much the Julie character. I don't know if it was the actor (Amy Adams) or the script, but she seemed cliche. (OK. I really hated the way she kept pronouncing beouf or however you spell the French word for beef. Really hated it.) As a butter-loving woman, I feel disloyal, that I should stand in solidarity with my sisters and love this movie. As a consolation, my 11-year-old son is home with a sore throat and a headache and he's loving it. No cliches in my household.
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