SUDDENLY, I do not hear much complaining about the selected accent of Meryl Streep in her latest cinematic outing, Julie & Julia. In this film, the great actress conjures not so much an accent than an altogether different voice. Fluted is the best description for the voice that alternates between a wind instrument and an affectation. Critics call our attention to the swoop in the voice. Whatever the voice quality or lack of it, the instrument behind it proves to be awesome enough, and if we forget about the accent (and if critics forgive her for putting up-front the accent than the character), it is because Streep has gathered so much more.

As Julia Child, the American Woman in Paris and the original Iron Chef, if you will, Streep has gathered an arsenal of body language that I believe transformed the actor’s physical makeup. The end product is a performance that bowls us over for the sheer might of it, while retaining enough incandescence for us to talk about when the film ends and we leave the theater.

The film is based on two stories. The magic—as in the occurrence of enchantment—takes place in between the reality of one story and the imagination of the other. What charms us all is in how the real story of the blogger, Julie Powell, is presented interchangeably with the story of Child, whose book inspires the former to get out of her dull life. The premise works because in our life the past is always misted in romance, while the present is the dull candidate for the predictably drab. It is, in fact, from the unfulfilled sweetness in her life that Julie, one day, decides to embark on an adventure. Her compass is the life of Julia Child and the book the great chef wrote.

The book’s title, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, sounds ordinary now. In the ’50s, the time Julia Child was trying to master the art, the book was supremely charging into the terra incognita of this act called cooking. As the Americans saw it.

In the film, Child arrives in Paris. Stubborn, she thinks of Paris as she imagines it and succeeds in getting the gift of self-fulfilling prophecy. The Paris with the thriving market and warm, ebullient Parisian cooks fit the template that she has in her mind about the city. She savors the air of the city and soon sallies into its most intimate garden: the cooking lessons.

In the meantime, the other part of the story initiates the storytelling by bringing us intimately into the lackluster life of Julie. It is 2002 in New York. A lunch among friends turns into a scenario of networking via mobile phones. It is the irony of the life of these young women that their tool for mobility has really stuck them to the ground. Their mobile phones give them the illusion of travel and adventure. Julie realizes that her life is nearing failure, or so she thinks. She is a writer, but her novel remains unfinished. Her husband, Eric, tells her to write. She thinks of Julia Child and her more than 500 recipes. She decides to cook them for a year. She does not write a novel about it; she blogs about her thoughts.

Her blog soon fills her personal space with the scent and setback from her kitchen. In another time and another place, Julia Child does not seem to find hard times. Even when the head of the cooking lesson appears be to be not convinced about her skills, Julia just goes on. She is unafraid. Which is the opposite of what’s taking place in the universe of Julie. Insecurity after insecurity plagues her. Even her marriage is on the brink of failure to match the accidents in her gourmet attempts.

As the scenes flit in and out of the two worlds, it becomes apparent that what we have is more than a counterpoint in lives and destiny. Remarkable differences separate the two leading figures of our fable. The world of Julia is a menagerie of creatures in bright plumage and brighter tempers, while that of Julie is wearisome. Somehow, we wonder: had Julie not discovered the exotica of Julia, would she have become the engaging character now in front of us?

The screenplay of Nora Ephron triumphs because we are not allowed the glib option of comparison. We are in this story that will matter if we put them together. So, will Julie finally meet Julia? Will cinema allow that space to warp so the two can become friends?

As Julie, Amy Adams has this vulnerability that is seldom seen in the present generation of actresses. She is effortlessly luminous in lightness that we rally around her. She is never the loser. And we cannot imagine a sad ending for her and the character she portrays. In this film, she is reunited with Meryl Streep, who was an unwieldy Mother Superior to her impressionable Novice in last year’s Doubt. They do not share a screen in Julie & Julia, although it is to the credit of Ephron that we feel they share the same skies.