One of the best shows Max is doing its best to bury: Julia
I know it’s hard to believe now, but HBO used to have a really good streaming service. Then they changed the name, then they changed the UI, then they added a ton of junk content and removed a load of stuff that was great. The service is also apparently obsessed with burying anything new, because why would anyone want to watch anything other than Rap Shit?
Look, I have nothing against Rap Shit, maybe it’s great, but you’d think maybe something else would get worked into that featured section from time to time. But nope.
Example: Season 2 of the outstanding series Julia just dropped. You didn’t know that, did you? Of course not. I doubt you even knew Season 1 existed. I loved Season 1, and I only found out S2 was out by accident because the dog bumped me while I was typing in the search field and I hit a J instead of an F.
As you likely have guessed from that header image, Julia is about tv pioneer Julia Child, who introduced the American public to the joy of French cooking, one episode at a time. Cooking shows are such a part of the entertainment fabric that there are entire channels devoted to them, but once upon a time, the idea of cooking on television was wild, not least because studios just plain weren’t set up for it. The working sink on Julia’s set is a genuine marvel that people talk about. Can I see the sink? Can I turn it on? Oh my gosh, it’s real water!
Equally hard to fathom, now that we live in a world of foodies and home cooks with restaurant-quality Instagram feeds, is that not a lot of thought or creativity once went into cooking dinner. Some of that was a holdover of wartime ration mentality, and some (most) of it was from the burden of feeding the family being placed on women who already had enough to do, but “joy” and “cooking” were not often uttered in the same sentence in American suburbia. Into this came Julia Child with her genuine passion for food, and, more importantly, her understanding that American women needed someone to make cooking more accessible. She tweaks the recipe for cassoulet to use chicken because “American women don’t want to strangle a duck.” (You are correct, Julia, we don’t.)
Season 1 introduces us to Julia and her husband Paul, goes into how she came to write her world-changing cookbook, and the little circle of friends she pulls together to bring The French Chef to local tv in Boston. It’s familiar ground if you know anything at all about Julia Child, but the performances — particularly from David Hyde Pierce as Paul, Bebe Newirth as Julia’s best friend Avis, and Sarah Lancashire as the woman herself — provide a warmth and humor that makes it easy to understand why so many people were eager to let Julia into their homes every week.
But more than that, it shows that life doesn’t end at 40. Julia didn’t even meet the man who would become her husband until she was 36; he’s the one who gets her interested in cooking in the first place. She’s going through menopause as The French Chef is becoming a nationwide hit. She’s making a name for herself at a time when society expects her to start fading into the background.
American culture in general and television entertainment in particular is obsessed with youth, seemingly happy to ignore anyone who survives long enough for their insurance rates to drop. The challenges that Julia and her circle face aren’t unique, but they are relatively unexplored in tv fare. Though Paul once did important work that took him all over the world, his day in the sun is over. He’s every bit as intelligent and capable as he ever was, but nothing is being asked of him. Adding to his confusion is that his companion now finds herself busier than ever, filled with purpose and finding widespread acclaim. Widow Avis is unsure how to navigate the world without her husband; not because she relied on him to do things, but because they were partners and she feels his absence in everything she does. She doesn’t want to be sad, but doesn’t know how not to be now that she’s forever lost this important person. Julia, who spent her marriage happily supporting her husband now finds herself with the opportunity to do something for herself — and feels conflicted about it as the patriarchy scolds her for her selfishness.
And then there’s how horny Julia and Paul are.
Older people having sex is typically used as a punchline. Haha, imagine old, wrinkly people getting naked! Isn’t that hilarious? It’s a smugness borne of the notion that only new things are beautiful or desirable. And while it is certainly true that the details of physical intimacy tend to change as we get older, that’s just mechanics. Julia doesn’t shy away from this, depicting the Childs as a couple that enjoys all aspects of romance, including a good shag. They also talk quite candidly about it, happily describing to their friends that if Julia was going to be a good wife, she needed to learn “how to feed and to fuck.” She cheerily agrees that she took to both with gusto.
This is not how people getting AARP discounts talk on television, and I love it. Look, I enjoy watching young, pretty people as much as you do, but I am living for these depictions of people with a few more miles under their belt. Because life doesn’t stop being weird or scary or fun or interesting once you hit middle age, and while you probably have some stuff well figured out by then, you’re mystified by pretty much everything else. Life’s a journey, with stuff to learn the entire way. And I appreciate that Julia embraces that so well.
Take Blanche, the Editor in Chief of the publishing house that handles Julia’s book. Publishing is, was, and ever will be an incredibly cutthroat business, so there’s no question that Blanche, played by the spectacular Judith Light, has both seen and done some shit to get to the top. And now she’s going blind. What good is an editor who can’t read? Who is she if she can’t do her job? She has no family, no real friends. It took everything she had to achieve what she did, and now it’s all slipping away. The ferocity with which she claws at her surroundings, desperate to hang on to them, is as heartbreaking as it is horrifying.
As nothing more than a period piece exploring a wholesome bit of Americana, Julia is a delightful watch — you’ll get a kick out watching her film her absolute train wreck of a show pilot, in particular. But the themes it explores of re-examining ourselves and our roles in life as we get older are timeless. We spend decades understanding what we mean to friends, family, coworkers, and ourselves, but then suddenly find the rules have changed. Sometimes for the better, sometimes the worse, sometimes neither — sometimes change is just change. When is it too late to reconsider who we are? Do we always have time to make new choices? Are we betraying our loved ones if we want something new?
Even if you don’t warm to Julia and her friends, you’ll almost certainly enjoy the time you spend in her kitchen. But like so many other people in her orbit, you likely fall victim to her bizarre but undeniable charm.
You can find all of S1 of Julia on Max, though you’ll probably have to use the search function because Max is incredible at being terrible; S2 is currently in progress.