Julia (1977)

Every so often, I move all the entries on my Netflix queue with a listed wait time to the top and see what comes next. If not for this method, I might have put Julia off indefinitely. How often am I in the mood for a dark-looking '70s drama whose title is a woman's name? Still, it had acting awards, an Academy Best Picture nomination, and direction by the seemingly underrated Fred Zinnemann, so I'd have to see it eventually.

In the '30s, Lillian Hellman (Jane Fonda) is a rather famous writer, thanks in part to schmoozing with the even more famous Dashiell Hammett (Jason Robards). But an old friend, Julia (Vanessa Redgrave), recruits her for a mission that would normally go to a non-Jewish nobody: smuggling funds for the resistance in Nazi territory. Julia's too injured to do the task herself. It's too bad they couldn't meet again under better circumstances; indeed, meeting at all is iffy....

The film relies heavily on time jumps. These aren't hard to follow when flashing back to teen years, which serve primarily to show how the two women developed (e.g., Julia resenting her stuffy, uncharitable aristocratic family) and cared for each other. Other instances forced me to think a little harder about the order of occurrence. I guess that reflects how dizzying life was for Lillian.

You may have guessed from Fonda and Redgrave that there's a strong left-wing if not communist/socialist undercurrent. Well, that would be in keeping with the real, blacklisted Hellman, who wrote the story. And Hammett, for that matter. But it's not prominent if even demonstrable. Characters are too busy resisting Nazis—the literal kind—to push other agendas.

Probably the main draw for most viewers is in the emotion between Lillian and Julia. For me, it was the thrill of the stealth mission. Lillian doesn't show any impressive skill in handling it; we can attribute her success to luck and assistance. Thing is, she can't be too sure whether the friendly strangers she interacts with are allies, enemies, or in some cases just assertive passersby. Neither could I at the time.

I might as well tell you that the ending is unsatisfying. Not just a typical '70s downer, it feels incomplete, leaving questions unanswered. I had attributed this to a basis in truth, which tends not to lend itself to convenient storytelling, but research tells me that the Julia chapter of Pentimento is particularly contested. Who was the real "Julia," if anyone?

After my viewing, I asked whether my mom had seen it, because the feminine aspect seemed to suit her. She had and rather liked it. Perhaps I'd best recommend the movie to women with a penchant for the dramatic. Viewers who are more like me will find it admirably made, at least in part, but only OK for overall enjoyment.