Erin Brockovich

By Mark Ramsey | 2000/02/25

Erin Brockovich is based on a true story of a woman who exposed her cleavage door-to-door to gather signatures. I didn’t miss the point of this movie, did I?

A check of the forms shows, mysteriously, 80 percent of the people who signed were named “Nice Boobs!”

Julia Roberts is a Pretty Wonderbra Woman, and her wardrobe is the envy of cocktail waitresses everywhere. Not a top goes by without without a carnival of cleavage, a bounty of boobery. In one polka-dot boobie dress, for example, the dots were bouncing so vigorously, I expected lyrics to crawl across the screen for a sing-a-long.

Julia plays a paralegal who’s paradressed in a paraskirt causing parachute-like protrusions to open in male co-workers’ pants with alarming frequency. Who needs the “class” in “class action suit,” anyway, when there’s so much action in the suit?

In the midst of her humdrum job as a legal-eagle, Julia discovers the only California community that doesn’t drink water from bottles, and – as the rest of the state figured out years ago – the water’s poisoned! Not surprisingly, a huge, allegedly evil corporation is responsible: PG&E. Hey, any company with “&” in it has got to be big. And it must be making a fortune, unless it’s called PG&, anyway.

To gather evidence, Julia crawls into wells for poisoned water samples, bags dead frogs with little X’s for eyes, even toe-tags David Duchovny’s movie career.

Joining Julia on this crusade for clean water and an obstacle-free mammary landscape is legendary actor Albert Finney.

With his impossibly full-bodied mane of hair, Albert seems to be lobbying for that gig as the new MGM mascot. Recently, The Globe caught Finney sweeping his feather-duster head through blinds in Kirk Kerkorian’s old office. What’s more, Finney was rated “the actor you’d most like to be stranded on a desert island with” by the Pandas at the San Diego Zoo.

And speaking of big hair, Julia’s got a grand enough mop-top to chair the Texas State Republican Ladies Caucus. If she teased her hair any more, it would snap and launch a shooting spree. No wonder she skips the stylist and goes straight to the landscape architect.

Julia hooks up with a gold-hearted, kid-loving Harley biker, primarily because the kids need a baby sitter, and mama needs an unemployed, freedom-loving grease-monkey. Why hire a teenager to babysit when there’s a jobless Hell’s Angel next door? Skip the finger paints, kids, and go straight to the body art, and don’t step on a pop-top, will ya?

Erin Brockovich is directed by well-known artsy director Steven Soderbergh. He’s the guy who made the movie Out of Sight, which Erin’s production notes proudly proclaim as “the third best-reviewed film of 1998, according to Premiere Magazine.” No offense, but what kind of flimsy accolade is that? Especially from Premiere magazine, where every movie is terrific, right up until it’s released.

Lo and Behold, Julia is successful in sticking it to PG&E, and the evil corporate giant pays through the nose, thus proving the world would be a safer place if all water were clean, all corporations were responsible, and all self-righteous law clerks were clothed like Xena, Warrior Princess.

I love movies where the hero takes on a huge corporate behemoth and wins, especially when those movies are produced by that huge corporate behemoth Sony. Hey Sony, my water’s fine but my Sony TV and its 500 channels are turning my mind to mush! Call Xena, quick!

Erin Brockovich is pretty good, although I liked this movie better when it came out a year ago and starred John Travolta. The audience sure liked it, anyway. And Julia is her usual relentlessly appealing and luminous self.

As stars go, Julia shines alone.

And that makes me mammary glad!


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