Meryl Streep can do anything. In her new movie, Florence Foster Jenkins, she is the title character, a real life self-created diva, Florence Foster Jenkins, who was the subject of ridicule for her very bad voice, at the same time that she had a cult following of fans—and still does. This period movie directed by Stephen Frears in gorgeous saturated color emphasizes Streep’s extravagant brocade wardrobe and her peachy cheeks as she portrays this turn-of-the-century heiress, paying off her singing coach, her pianist Cosme McMoon (“Big Bang Theory”’s Simon Helberg really playing), and whoever, so as to promote her singing career. The penultimate moment is her performance at Carnegie Hall. Aided by her husband, St. Clair Bayfield, a sublime Hugh Grant—trust me, if you are remembering him as the callous beau in the Bridget Jones movies, here he is positively tender, she is mocked until a floozy (Nina Arianda is just adorable) quiets the laughing audience. Renee Fleming, who knows a thing or two about voices, said of Streep, introducing a special screening, you have to have a really good, versatile voice to play one so bad.