I saw The Help Monday evening - It just arrived in our tiny village's theater, only two months after it's August premiere; I think that may be some kind of record. I sat in the dark, bag of overpriced popcorn parked in my lap and realized I was sitting with about 50 different book clubs. Average age? Umm, they could have been the original cast of characters (sans southern accents and ethnic diversity). I'm not sure if there were a lot of viewers with hearing problems or if they just wanted to acknowledge that they "understood the innuendo" "got the joke" or were "in the know" because they (along with everyone else) read the book. The conversations, mumblings and additional commentary going on during the movie were enough to give me a small case of angina. Or maybe it was the double espresso before the show.
With that off my (pounding) chest: the movie was well done and followed the book quite well. But I'm not here to critique the movie - No, the real stars of the movie were the clothes. (Although my sister would argue the sets were the most interesting part - let it be known - she owns most of that film's furniture - right down to the TV tables). The amazing 1960s fashions were positively shouting at me and since I couldn't hear the movie, I listened to those girdle-enhanced frocks and wished fervently that we still wore that kind of fashion - that was until I looked down at the bucket in my lap and licked my greasy fingers.