Erin Brockovich

AWARD WINNING CLEAVAGE

With one of the most beautiful smiles in all of movies, Julia Roberts makes it very difficult not to fall in love with her. It’s a gift, and she relishes it; the dilemma—albeit a small one—is we keep watching her in movie after dumb movie and wonder why we’re not even just a bit angry about some of her choices. After My Best Friend's Wedding, StepMom and Notting Hill, which I lost all resistance to despite everything I threw up to fight it off, I promised, “No more of fluff stuff.” So much for willpower. No one has to see but a still or a clip from Erin Brockovich to know Roberts is perfect casting; with her boobs pushed up and exposed, her skirts high, her heels “fuck me” invites, the real Erin must be shitting in her panties—Roberts is more Brockovich than Brockovich. Everything we know about Roberts the icon star, personality, public squeeze, comes right into view as we watch her fight off the evil polluters. Does she deserve the Oscar? Don’t we all want a check for two mil? Enormously pleasurable, and probably the most likable actress working anywhere and often looking more like Rita Hayworth with every picture, Roberts might not have been quite this good without consummate pro Albert Finney, who is equally agreeable. Acting students will savor his efforts to conceal normal speech patterns. Steven Soderbergh won the Oscar for Traffic, though he was also nominated for this picture. Not sure if he’s the best but he’s surely the director of the year 2000.

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ralphbenner@nowreviewing.com