Love, Actually is Good, Actually

“Love is All Around” by the Troggs is a song that shows up with frequency in the work of Richard Curtis. It appeared in Four Weddings and a Funeral and was sung by a choir in an episode of The Vicar of Dibley. Most significantly though is its use as a commentary on the cheapness of holiday pop singles in the terrible Christmas-themed cover “Christmas is All Around” sung by Bill Nighy’s cynical rock star Billy Mack in Love, Actually. This version of the song is unabashedly awful and transparently corporate, yet it still becomes the Christmas Number One. The thing is though, the joke would work with any song about love, but Curtis, whose musical choices are never an accident, chose this favourite of his for a reason. Because Love is All Around is the thesis of his movie.

Love, Actually was the first movie Curtis directed, which is often forgotten in light of how the movies he wrote have just as much his personal stamp on them, as I discussed a few months back in Richard Curtis Month. But it makes sense that this would be the film he’d make that leap for as it’s the perfect distillation of his attitude towards love presented in as ambitious a way as possible: a grand Robert Altman style ensemble piece showcasing multiple, often interconnecting love stories set in the weeks leading up to Christmas. It’s Curtis’ Nashville, his Magnolia, his Babel …but it’s goofy, doesn’t really take itself entirely seriously, and is prone to sentiment far more often than similarly structured movies are. And once again that is largely where the movie loses people. 

The film can’t help but match its humour with an earnest sweetness and that same, sometimes wish fulfilment idea of romance that Curtis built his reputation on. I spent September arguing why such things aren’t inherently bad, and not only is that also true of Love, Actually, but I would posit that far from being merely a shallow, vapid, and pretentious exercise in soppiness as it’s often painted as by its critics, this sentimental, aspirational romantic comedy is rather a much more meaningful, insightful, and all around wonderful holiday movie than it gets credit for.

At its’ simplest, the movie is just novel and well-cast. It might be easy to forget but the ensemble holiday romance subgenre that became tired under the likes of Garry Marshall in the early 2010s was born out of the success of Love, Actually and its’ clever storytelling and marketing concept of stringing together a series of small love stories anchored by celebrity stars. However while those later movies seemed to be just inserting random stars in with no purpose, most of the actors in Love, Actually are cast mindfully in roles well-suited to their talents –and even actors who aren't: Hugh Grant (there out of necessity due to his past collaborations with Curtis) and Keira Knightley (then one of the hottest young British stars) work very well with the material and don't feel much like stunt casting. It's an almost universally well-performed piece as a result, the stylish wit and sly edginess Curtis imbues the script with given life and soul by a series of actors hitting the right balance of sincere but not self-serious. 

And some of them stand out to the point of giving one of the best or most dynamic performances of their careers –we'll talk about Emma Thompson later –but Bill Nighy, in his first of three collaborations with Curtis, is so ecstatically good as such an uninhibited and raw dose of old-school rocker personality that it came to define much of his career afterwards; and Liam Neeson, often typecast as sage-like mentor figures or villains (and afterwards middle-aged action heroes), actually gets to play an extremely grounded, good-humoured, middle-class dad and it's awesome –how often do you see Liam Neeson in a sweater and jeans?

It likewise shouldn’t be discounted how funny the movie often is.  Billy’s showmanship, presented to us largely through third person appearances on T.V. via BBC’s Parkinson or with Ant and Dec, is ludicrously wild and self-indulgent; and his cynical promotion of “Christmas is All Around” really hints at the kind of music industry satire Curtis would later more fully exploit in Yesterday. There are more than a couple perfect deadpan deliveries from Alan Rickman’s Harry, and though the irony is ultimately undone, Kris Marshall plays Colin’s delusion of the innate sex appeal of British accents with a similar kind of buffoonery to that found in Curtis’ sitcoms (his dialogue at times has even a Flashheart flare). And of course there are just a bunch of isolated gags, from Sarah’s (Laura Linney) silent jubilation at Karl (Rodrigo Santoro) coming to have sex with her, to the various comments made in Portuguese by Aurélia’s (Lúcia Monez) friends and family ahead of Jamie’s (Colin Firth) proposal. One of the best and most memorable of these is naturally Rowan Atkinsons’ turn as an incredibly pedantic jewelry salesman going to excessive lengths to package a necklace for Harry –a very typical Atkinson routine.

Perhaps the most resonant comedy detour is in the dynamic between Prime Minister David (Grant) and the brash and churlish U.S. President (a delightful Billy Bob Thornton) meant to satirize the “special relationship” between Tony Blair and ‘cowboy’ presidents Bill Clinton and George W. Bush. The arrogant demeanour and casual bullying attitude used by this President may be a comic spin on how other world leaders are often pushed around by the United States, but the bit here has aged surprisingly well now that every derogatory stereotype about Americas’ role in international affairs has been encapsulated tenfold by its current leader. His sexual harassment of Martine McCutcheon’s Natalie is similarly uncomfortably characteristic of the behaviour normalized by that same incumbent –though at least Thornton has a marginal degree of class.

But to dig a little deeper, Love, Actually is kept fresh by its variety of relationships and romantic stories, and they are what has given the film its enduring appeal …as well as an enduring backlash. Many have criticized the individual stories for their triteness: in his otherwise positive review of the film, Roger Ebert asserted, “Curtis seems to be working from a checklist of obligatory movie love situations and doesn’t want to leave anything out.” Much more derisively, A.O. Scott declared it “more like a record label's greatest-hits compilation or a “very special” sitcom clip-reel show than an actual movie.” But I think such takes ignore the fact that while Curtis does use a number of clichés, he subverts many of them or finds an interesting twist to make them work –and does so with a charming sense of self-awareness. In what seems like a natural progression from Notting Hill, David is very conscious about his public appearance and his resistance to acting on his feelings for Natalie (and awkward anxiety around her) is based in part out of that. 

The films’ signature unrequited love storyline between Mark (Andrew Lincoln) and Juliet (Knightley) isn’t afraid to be weird (Mark’s wedding video focussing exclusively on her feels realistically uncomfortable and too revealing) and it doesn’t end with her choosing him over her new husband in spite of a creative romantic gesture on his part that’s become easily the most famous scene of the movie. The two most stereotypical romance scenes in the movie are Jamie’s public proclamation and proposal to Aurélia at her restaurant, and Sam’s (Thomas Sangster) airport run to confess his love to his American classmate Joanna (Olivia Olson); and both transcend the tedium of such movie scenes by the addition of a unique element. In the former, it’s the language that Jamie has learned for her and vice versa, allowing the moment to be cutely choppy and less forthright; and in the latter it’s the very fact that Sam is a kid, which is adorable.

What many seem to miss about Love, Actually though, perhaps due to Curtis’ trademarks outside of it and the general aesthetics of holiday romantic comedies, is that the film is actually about many different kinds of love, not just conventional romantic couplings. Of the nine stories, only three follow the usual formula of a man and woman falling in love and being together by the end of the movie –one of which, the story of John (Martin Freeman) and Judy (Joanna Page) so subtly plays out this way you might not notice it.  Most of the stories are in fact ultimately about other kinds of relationships. Daniel and Sam’s story is as much about the bonding between a stepfather and stepson in the aftermath of a mothers’ death as it is about Sam’s case of puppy love. 

Sarah’s story, though it looks to be heading in the direction of traditional romance with the guy she is hopelessly attracted to, turns into a bittersweet portrait of her complicated relationship with her handicapped brother (Michael Fitzgerald). Colins’ story has more to do with straight-up lust than anything else, and the love between friends is illustrated subtly through Mark and Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor), through Daniel and Karen (Thompson) -in a refreshingly honest portrayal of lovingly platonic relationships between friends of opposite sexes; but most notably in the conclusion of Billy’s story, where after attaining his Number One Single goal, he chooses to spend Christmas Eve with his loyal manager Joe (Gregor Fisher) instead of at an eclectic party at Elton Johns’ house. 

Through all these relationships interconnected curiously so that each storyline seems to take place within the background of another, Curtis is reinforcing the universality of love, and is defending it against shallow notions of pure sappiness. Repeatedly, he’s demonstrating the power love carries in any of its forms, the unabashed joyfulness of it, through musical choices, warm visual language, and excellent performances. And unlike most of his other films, he’s not delineating it. Sure, some have the air of a somewhat larger-than-life fantasy love story, but these are paired with more honest, even bitter examples.

Sometimes, love isn’t returned. And it’s something Mark accepts by the end of his story. The endpoint of his infatuation with Juliet is in him getting his feelings out and letting go of his pining, something often misinterpreted (in part due to Juliet kissing him in the street which sends a bit of a mixed message) as him pulling a Hail Mary plea for reciprocated affections and for her to leave Peter. Sometimes, love has to be put on hold. Sarah’s chance with Karl is aborted by her family responsibility, a more important obligation that isn’t always comfortable for her, but one that she knows is the priority. It’s sad to see Sarah jilted in this way and that Karl wasn’t worth her attentions. Sadder still, is where the film shows how sometimes, love lets you down. The story of Karen and Harry initially plays like any of the more comically oriented plots: Harry’s flustered awkwardness to the sexual advances of his secretary Mia (Heike Makatsch) being a joke, and his clumsiness in prolonging the affair in such things as the aforementioned jewelry scene indicate he’ll be found out in a manner similar to a farce. Instead, Curtis brutally presents us with the tragic irony of the expensive necklace Karen assumes is for her, only to receive a different, much cheaper gift from him on Christmas Eve. 

The scene of her in the bedroom trying to stop herself from crying is completely devastating, not only because you connect with that potent feeling of betrayal, but because she has to compose herself for her family and keep the wound repressed. It’s one of Emma Thompsons’ finest moments as an actress and showcases bluntly an aspect of domestic relationships, putting on a façade of contentedness to mask emotional distress, that you don’t see much of in movies. In conjunction with the subsequent scene of her shortly confronting Harry about it after the Christmas show (and again having to conceal her true feelings in front of friends and family), it is the most heartbreakingly real moment in any Richard Curtis movie, and unlike the other stories, it doesn’t have a happy resolution –rather it forebodingly suggests a relationship bound together by children and appearances that hasn’t any love left in it.

You might think this downer plot thread would diminish or work against the films’ overarching theme of recognizing love in the world, but amazingly it doesn’t. Because it is still a story of love, but one of how love is taken for granted and lost; and in a way this cautionary tale grounds the rest of the world in a believable reality for acknowledging the truth of infidelity and its repercussions. Through the sincerity of its failed relationship, it elevates the earnestness of the others and your investment in them.

So Love, Actually does indeed depict the hardships of love in its mosaic of diverse relationships in an effort to embody a fuller spirit of the concept. Fantastic! However, I feel I must acknowledge in fairness where the movie does fall short. The biggest area should be obvious. I use the term ‘diverse’, but honestly this film is anything but, focussing largely on white characters with only a handful of significant people of colour like Peter, Tony (Abdul Salis), Karl, and Joanna. Also, for a filmmaker open to depicting a positive gay couple back in 1994, the film lacks for LGBTQ representation –a dropped subplot would have followed a school headmistress (Anne Reid) and her dying lover (Frances de la Tour), and the film is a little poorer for its absence. There are a few technical things as well –Curtis described the editing of the film as a “catastrophe”, the way scenes are cut against one another doesn’t always come together. Particularly I feel like the horny scene of Colin about to initiate an orgy with four American women transitioning to the big emotional scene for Karen was a mistake of jarring tones. 

The Colin storyline just in general is a weak link –Curtis has always had a tendency towards bawdiness, hence John and Judy being sex scene body doubles and thus nude for a lot of their screentime. But while that plot works due to the charmingly innocent performances of Freeman and Page, the Colin thread never quite does –and is also kind of missing the joke, as he never encounters conflict in his thin assertion of the sexual proclivities of American women. If anything, he’s just an obnoxious prat proven right, and American women are left a little offended by the generalization.

But at the end of the day, this is a movie that has made me happy this holiday season. The Christmas setting, though somewhat incidental, is no accident, the values inherent in the holiday stem into the individual stories and illuminate them. I keep thinking back to that ending though, set after Christmas and underscored by The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows”, and the immensity of feeling that is condensed into it. Love, Actually opens by asking us to consider the everyday love stories that happen all around us that we take no notice of, bookended by footage of couples and families coming together at Heathrow airport. It’s the reason for the interconnectivity: a statement on the power and importance of this thing that unites us and exists to some degree in all our lives. It’s rather a comforting notion, especially for those alone at this time of year. Love (and Christmas) is all around us. And so the feeling grows.

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