Watched Charade on Saturday. Just delightful; Henry Mancini theme, groovy, swirly titles, lots of glamorous shots of airports and Euro ski resorts. And Audrey Hepburn in Givenchy, oh my! One beautiful candy-colored, funnel-necked coat after another, and little kitten heels. My gasps got tiresome; Cary Grant played it much cooler.

Compared to Hepburn, Julia Roberts clonks around Ocean’s Eleven like a kid wearing her mother’s (huge) shoes. I’m horrified to find myself agreeing with sleazy old David Thomson, for once—she’s over. George Clooney needs a co-star who can walk with grace and sign a contract that lets her snog her leading man once in a while.

I’m mourning the death of my secret Julia-Roberts-movie vice.

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