In EAT PRAY LOVE the scenery in Italy is almost satisfying, in India – well, India is not an ashram, but in Bali a would-be lover’s butt is Oscar-worthy. That guy has the best butt I have seen since The David in Florence. Aside from the butt, I believe both the movie and book fail because of two things: angst, I’m tired of it; and forcing three themes to fit separately into three countries. If one can’t eat pray love in Italy AND in India AND in Indonesia, all in the same day if not same trip, one seems kinda like a Barbie. Let’s see, today I’m gonna make my Barbie eat lots of pasta in Rome and then have an agonizing time buying bigger jeans in Naples. Yes, that was gut wrenching. Then, you can make your Barbie sit in the corner and oooommmm until school starts. Meanwhile, our big sister is saying “no” to the butt and putting on her sailor suit for her ride into the sunset with Mr. (It’s About Time) Right.
Cathy fell asleep before India, and I cheered when the lovers sailed, because I knew, this not being the Titanic, we could go home.
I have been thinking for hours to find something nice to say about EAT PRAY LOVE. Anyone who can get a book published and then sell the movie rights is to be admired. Maybe the editor is to blame. Maybe the editor thought “the audience” can focus on only one concept at a time and can focus on it anywhere but New York. Maybe the film spent so much time in New York so the audience would be pathetically grateful to see bridges spanning the Tiber on one of Rome’s golden days.
I really wish this was a book and movie I could love, for I dearly love Italy and India. I think I would love Bali, too, with or without the butt.
If you go, time your popcorn and bathroom breaks carefully so you don’t miss the butt. It’s about halfway through Bali. But remember, there is a better butt in Florence – and maybe in your own neighborhood.