Nora Ephron
Dear Nora Ephron,
When I was 27 I attended a discussion of your book, “I Remember Nothing,” a reflection on life in your 60s. I was the blonde in the sea of blue hair facing the stage. Afterwards I introduced myself but could only mutter, “I love your films.” Shortly after, you passed away and worse, didn’t warn any of us. To add insult to injury, Lena Dunham wrote a New Yorker piece that said you once took her to lunch and passed on a potpourri of personal wisdom. How could you? When I’m the one who truly loves you! I framed your photo on my desk! So this letter is our lunch. We’re at Cafe Lalo, famous from your film, You’ve Got Mail. I just embarrassed you by insisting the chef have a salad with your name.
The first shot of Julie and Julia. A crane lowers a 1950s station wagon onto the docks of Paris. That’s when I knew I had to be a director as lovely as you. You shoot through windows, doors and behind bins of potatoes, as if we’re peering in, a fly on the wall, a 27-year-old girl stalking you at your book discussion. Your establishing shots are awe-inspiring, your scene-styling as decadent as the food on characters’ plates. And every moment is paired with the perfect, timeless song. You open a bookstore with “Splish Slash (I’m Taking a Bath)” and it works. Nothing’s ever worked better.
But more, I adore you for teaching me resilience. When I’m hopeless and stuck, staring out a window from my computer like your characters often do, I hear you say: “Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.” And I keep going. So I guess, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for showing me who I could be — and in your own magical way, helping me get there too.
Everything is copy,
Karolyn McKenzie