Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman. There’s all that mucking about with howling at the moon once a month, either unsupported or badly scorched boobs, the constant struggle to be heard within an oppresive patriarchal society, and to quote Bernard Black, oh, the dancing!
But then again, sometimes it’s hard to be a thunderously self-obsessed, overpriveleged jackanape as well. So you’ve really got to feel for poor old Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love, drowning prettily in an exotic blend of both of these maladies. My goodness, it’s a wonder she can move her puny bones under the weight of her first world problems. So, is it worth 140 minutes of our time watching her fret and eat and ponder and pray and laugh and love?
Seriously? Eat Pray Love? Well, let us put it this way. Puke Scream Die.