One storyline follows a horndog moving to America solely to get laid, another culminates in some incredibly sketchy, slightly disturbing stalking that also happens to violate every rule of the bro code, and the film features more women in a state of undress than you’ll find at a naturalist beach on a hot summer’s day.
It must be noted that this is only a short highlight reel of the stuff that has not aged well in Love, Actually. We won’t go into scenes like a mother holding up two Barbie dolls and wondering which of her daughters would like the one that “looks like a transvestite”, or the perfectly healthy woman who’s constantly fat-shamed and called “thunder thighs”. In the age of heroin chic, if you couldn’t see bone you were fat.
So, in light of all that − which I’ll remind you is not even close to being all of “that” − the question has to be, how has Love, Actually retained its status as a beloved festive staple?
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Well, I rewatched the film earlier this week to find out. And as far as I can work out, there are only two possible answers.
The first is that people aren’t actually watching Love, Actually at all. Instead, their proclamations of love are anchored in the warm fuzzy nostalgia they get when thinking back to their first or second viewings of the film back in a less complicated age. Sort of like Star Wars fans who can’t remember the last time they sat through the 1977 original movie.
The second is that Love, Actually endures simply because it’s an especially good rom-com. It’s funny and it’s emotional and it charms the viewer. Its plotting and script have both been ruthlessly engineered to relentlessly manipulate your heartstrings and wring as much emotional juice out of you as possible.
The film expertly switches between dramatic, romantic and comedic without missing a beat and serves up several scenes that have since gone on to become iconic; such as Hugh Grant’s Prime Minister dancing through No 10 to the Pointer Sisters’ electro-pop banger Jump (For My Love)or the declaration of unrequited and forbidden love through the use of cue cards and a boombox playing Christmas carols.
But what really makes the movie sing is its ensemble cast, which was clearly assembled with as much cold, calculated precision as its script. Bill Nighy is a joy as a seedy old rocker, Colin Firth takes his English decency to an almost aggressive level, the aforementioned Grant is at his most delightfully befuddled as the lovestruck PM, and whose heart didn’t break along with Emma Thompson’s when she discovered her husband’s infidelity or when Liam Neeson gave the eulogy at his wife’s funeral?
While the movie may have been clinically assembled it possesses an unrivalled sincerity. It’s a film that believes in love and desperately wants you to believe in love as well. It’s cheesy, of course, but tastefully so. Like a nice brie. It’s easy to see why so many people love Love, Actually.
It’s Christmas and because you always tell the truth at Christmas I have to say that Love, Actually is flawed, messy and, yes, problematic. But its heart’s in the right place — even if it’s no longer in the right time.
Stream Love Actually in New Zealand on Prime Video.
Karl Puschmann is an entertainment columnist for the Herald. His fascination lies in finding out what drives and inspires creative people.
