There are numerous things in this world to be angry about, several to scream profanities at the sky and curse the gods above for. When I’m feeling gloomy about the state of the world, I turn to the arrival gate at Los Angeles International Airport – a place where even when there’s no space to walk and your baggage has been missing for two hours, there is love to be found.
I draw inspiration from “Love Actually,” which I believe might be the cheesiest and tackiest holiday movie ever. Even though it’s almost garish in all its holiday cheer, I never fail to watch it every holiday season.
Metacritic gives it a “metascore” of 55 – a D on the grading scale for those of us not familiar with the pretentious art of scoring movies. The final nail in the coffin might be its 3.5-star average rating on Letterboxd, an app that has a reputation for getting the last say on anything in cinema.
Upon the conduction of an informal poll amongst my friends, “Love Actually” received several condescending “Ughs.”
Even if modern day society doesn’t like it, I definitely do. Every holiday season, the people I love are put to the test with my annoying, abundant Christmas spirit and overwhelming love of “Love Actually.”
This 2003 Richard Curtis film strikes a delicate balance between rubbish and touching. If you’re too busy turning your nose up at it, you might miss the magic.
Perhaps it’s Hugh Grant’s delightfully bumbling British charm (and his gorgeous hair) that’s on full display as the Prime Minister that draws me back in time and again. Or perhaps it’s the lovely, underappreciated Rodrigo Santoro’s “Karl” that we never get to see much of that calls my name.
But, “Love Actually” also has some near-fatal flaws.
The movie is set primarily in London, England, where even in the 2000s, many ethnic groups rose by 50% of their total population. With that in mind, having just one person of color in the cast is absurd.
“Love Actually” also reinforces atrocious beauty standards, bludgeoning the audience with remarks about Martine McCutcheon’s body and attempting to insult her character, Natalie, by calling her “chubby.”
The film does fall victim to overdone tropes for the sake of time constraints and well, wrapping everything up in a sappy little bow. It’s a bit unlikely, even for someone who still believes in Santa, that Colin Firth is able to find love worth learning a new language and traveling across the world within a month before Christmas.
I’ve been on campus for nearly a full quarter and have had no luck.
But “Love Actually” does not fail us when it comes to eliciting emotion and a couple of tears. The movie, in its two hour and 15 minute runtime, argues that the holidays are best when you embrace love of all kinds.
Maybe your greatest love is your reluctant best friend – Bill Nighy’s character, Billy Mack, knows how that feels. Perhaps family will forever be your greatest priority – Laura Linney’s Sarah can relate. And if you’ve ever been betrayed by a man, which I know you have, Emma Thompson’s Karen might offer a vulnerable feeling of being seen, all set to Joni Mitchell’s heart wrenching “Both Sides Now.”
If you look past the movie’s sins, you will find a story that maybe – just maybe – makes you believe in love, people and everything else in between.
And so when I say there’s love to be found at the LAX arrival gate – I mean my mom standing there, arms open to embrace. I mean my dad and my grandparents, waiting for me on the other side. I mean that there’s love in driving home and reuniting with my hometown friends, who I’ve only managed to keep in touch with through phone calls squeezed into small bits of our busy schedules.
There is love in putting on “Love Actually,” stomaching the eye rolls and comments about what a bad movie it is, in having people who tolerate my terrible taste.
Because if you don’t just look for it – if you believe in it – a cheesy, sappy, and utterly lovesick world like “Love Actually” might just be possible. Even at LAX.
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