Love Actually

Love Actually is one of the most unabashedly romantic films I’ve ever seen. It makes no apologies for entrenching its Altman-like character list in clichés while your most cynical inner vibrations scoff at how neatly some of its strands come together. I grant you everything since “come on” truly has a double meaning with this film. But the plain of innocence where this film resides is not merely out of simplistic necessity to warm our hearts or out of intentions to do well; it does have a point to make. And if “love is all around” is all it is, then dammit, so be it. Actually it’s Christmas that’s all around if the opening sequence has anything to say about it. Writer/director Richard Curtis cleverly recalls his Four Weddings and a Funeral anthem by turning the remake of the original tune into wretched holiday poppycock. It’s sung by fading rock ‘n’ roll star, Billy Mack (Bill Nighy) hoping for one more hit, even if it is for a diddy he can’t help but mock at every turn.

He is just one of over a dozen characters we’ll meet along the way to true love. Hugh Grant is the newly elected Prime Minister who takes an immediate shine to the most frank member of his staff, Natalie (the unbelievably fetching Martine McCutcheon). Similarly, Colin Firth is a writer who catches the eye of his own servant (Lucia Moniz) despite neither being able to speak the other’s language.

Liam Neeson’s Daniel has just lost his wife and now doesn’t know how to communicate to his 11-year old stepson (Thomas Sangster) who is going through his first bout of puppy love. Daniel’s friend, Karen (Emma Thompson) is married to Harry (Alan Rickman) who has lately been receiving some suggestive offers from his own secretary (Heike Makatsch). Another co-worker at the office (Laura Linney) has also been (not-so) secretly pining for the “enigmatic chief designer”, Karl (Rodrigo Santoro). Oh, but we’re not done.

Where there’s a funeral, there’s also a wedding between Dirty Pretty Thing’s Chiwetel Ejiofor and Pirates of the Caribbean’s Keira Knightley. The wildcard third party and best friend of the groom, Peter (Andrew Lincoln) carries some resentment at this union, but who does he resent or is jealous of? And don’t forget (even if the film occasionally does), the naked stand-ins (Martin Freeman & Joanna Page) on the movie set or the horny sandwich vendor who believes a trip to America is just the Viagra he needs. One almost has to appreciate him stumbling into a real-life dream sequence (in a Wisconsin dive bar of all places) with never a trace of waking up. It’s more punchline than reality and couldn’t help but laugh as it’s played straight.

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Curtis does a wonderful job at cutting into each and every storyline; some more compelling than others as his central message is laid on thicker than cement mixed with a McDonald’s milkshake. For the first hour or so, the whimsy factor may be too unbearable for those with even the most ardent of sweet toothes. But Curtis manages to keep us grounded from time-to-time as that pesky thing known as life swoops in to pull the rug out from under our fantasies. We hope (and, frankly, assume) that everyone here is destined for a happy ending and while most end up with smiles, a few are still left to dream under the blanket of contentment.

It can’t be a coincidence nor a cheap ploy by Curtis to briefly mention 9/11 in Grant’s opening narration. His implication that love is

everywhere, only not as newsworthy as hate and destruction, is manifested in his hallmark commercial of a bookend where the airport’s arrival gate is full of anonymous smiles, hugs and kisses. And what’s more symbolic in the inherent clichés of romantic comedies than the airport? How often have we watched one party chase after another in hopes of one last goodbye or stopping the plane? A pretty tall order now the way airport security is today, making such a symbolic gesture a thing of the past. There are no less than three dashes in Love Actually’s climax to airports or otherwise to declare one’s love to another. You don’t think that Curtis is manipulating that cliché? Even as ill-advised as one character behaves at Heathrow, his determination to not let this moment pass him by and its resulting catharsis is as touching and beautiful a moment I’ve seen all year.

The cast is uniformly terrific up-and-down with standouts being Nighy as the nothing-to-lose rock star and both Thompson and Linney bringing some dramatic weight to their characters’ predicaments. Grant’s

encounter with the U.S. President (a cameo to be named later) proves to be both comical and moving and young Thomas Sangster gets some of the film’s best moments towards the end.

Curtis, in many respects, can be viewed as the male equivalent to Nora Ephron. Except his screenplays have bite in-between the bouts with saccharine. His directorial debut, much like the other Working Title productions punch-up moments with the familiar sing-along pop tunes, but they work because he allows them for the characters and not to churn our juices. When Grant’s Prime Minister consequently delivers a defining moment for both his country and his personal feelings in one fell swoop, he earns the right to dance around his offices to the Pointer Sisters. Even recalling the film’s lighter brushes with tragedy and

disappointment, I still had a great big smile on my face during the film

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and well after I entered the night air. I felt a bit of rejuvenation in some respects, eager to return as soon as possible to these characters who recall the agony of love and still reminds us how beautiful it can be in all possible definitions of the term. The film would likely benefit from being a bit longer to flesh out some of the storylines, but what’s there is fun, charming, moving and a neat trick to turn the clichés of a “happy ending” and make them seem genuine. Part of me fell in love during this movie. And I didn’t even need an airport to remind me of that.

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