"LOVE, ACTUALLY"

I’ve been a fan of Richard Curtis’ writing long before I even knew what a screenplay was.  My first Curtisian experience came when I watched “Four Weddings and a Funeral” during my senior year of high school.  I was living in St. Louis, Missouri at the time.  I didn’t know who Hugh Grant was.  As I said, I didn’t even really know what a screenplay was.  I naively thought (or should I say stupidly assumed?) that actors simply showed up on set and made everything up as they went along, dialogue included.  And, upon watching “Four Weddings” (or “FWAAF,” as Stephen Fry puts it), it struck me that Hugh Grant was particularly good at doing this.  So many of his character’s lines, whether they were stammered or expressed via sign language, became instantly memorable to me.  Not only that, the supporting characters, who comprised the protagonist’s core group of friends, and the situations, in which the characters found themselves, were – at once – charming, hysterical, and poignant.  When the film was over, I wanted to be in love.  It was, to me, the perfect romantic comedy.  

[if !supportEmptyParas][endif] Then, in 1999, “Notting Hill” came out.  At that time, I finally did know what a screenplay was.  In fact, I was working as a development intern at Mace Neufeld Productions on the Paramount lot during the summer between my first and second year at The American Film Institute in Los Angeles, California.  In addition to making copies and fetching coffee, I read and covered a lot of scripts.  Hundreds, probably.  Anyway, from time to time, Paramount would hold free screenings for its employees on the lot.  One day, I learned that “Notting Hill” would be playing after work that night.  Like most of my friends, there were only two movies on my radar that summer – “Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace” and “Eyes Wide Shut.”  “Notting Hill” wasn’t even so much as a blip.  I barely knew anything about it.  It had Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant in it, that’s all I knew.  And that wasn’t enough to make me want to see it, free or not.  But, then, my friend, Jeff, told me that the film was about a movie star who falls in love with a normal guy.  I liked that concept.  (Let’s face it, we’ve all fantasized about such a scenario at one time or another, have we not?)  Then, Jeff also told me that the film was written by the same guy who wrote “Four Weddings.”  Hmm.  Now that got me thinking.  “Well, at the very least, it’ll be better than sitting in rush hour traffic,” I thought to myself.  

When I exited the theater that night, I felt – no joke – as if a magical spell had been cast over me.  The world seemed like a hopeful place.  I wanted to love and be loved.  I couldn’t wait to go home and write.  I was transported.  Blown away.  It was my second Curtisian experience.  Like “Four Weddings,” the dialogue was brilliant, classic, and instantly quotable.  I remember wondering to myself, “Who is this Richard Curtis and how does he come up with dialogue like that?”  As inspired as I was to go home and write, I was also scared shitless that I would never be able to succeed in an art where prodigious talents like Richard Curtis would be my amongst my competitors.  Visions of me working Curtis to an early grave, as Salieri did Mozart, preoccupied me as I white-knuckled the steering wheel during the long drive home.  Making matters worse, the plotting was miraculous.  I mean, really, seriously, Curtis did the impossible.  First, he made the audience fall in love with Julia Roberts’ character, Anna Scott.  Second, he made the audience hate Anna Scott.  Then, just when it seemed that there was nowhere left for the film to go (and that Curtis had painted himself into a real corner), Anna Scott would do something or say something that would immediately win the audience’s heart all over again.  And Curtis managed to pull off this reversal of emotions not once, but THREE times over the course of the story.  Hugh Grant, Curtis’ official cinematic alter-ego, was in perfect form, embodying a perfect convergence of writer and actor.  Any lingering ill will audiences might have felt over the Divine Brown incident completely diminished.  Again, the development of the protagonist’s core group of friends was a master class in how to create an attractive main character by giving him a great circle of instantly likeable friends.  Needless to say, with “Notting Hill,” Curtis established himself as the Jedi Master of contemporary romantic comedy writers.  

In 2002, I was working as the Creative Executive at Mace Neufeld Productions and, as such, I read the trades every day.  Little by little, I started reading reports that Curtis was teaming up with Grant again on a new romantic comedy titled “Love, Actually.”  This time around, however, Curtis would be directing from his own script.  Naturally, I was thrilled by the announcement and, in my excitement, tried to find out anything and everything I could about the project.  Slowly, I discovered that Grant would be playing the British Prime Minster, that Emma Thompson had a role, that the film would weave together multiple storylines, etc.  Unfortunately, I was betrayed by my own enthusiasm because, unlike my first two Curtisian experiences, I now had… expectations.  Then, a few months before the film’s release, a source at Universal Pictures told me the film wasn’t as good as Curtis’ previous films and that they were having problems cutting the running time down to a manageable length.  Unfortunately, I listened and, by the time the film finally was released, I wasn’t anxious to see it at all.  Some friends eventually talked me into going with them to see the film before Thanksgiving.  Before the film was over, I’d already rendered my opinion.  “It was okay,” I thought to myself.  “But not great.  Far from great.  Minor Richard Curtis.”  My friend, Charlie, whose opinion I now worry might have been colored by my lack of enthusiasm, turned to me and said, “He got outta that one by the skin of his teeth, didn’t he?”  We left, disappointed.  

Then, something happened.  Over the course of the next year or so, I found myself thinking about “Love, Actually” from time to time.  Certain subplots.  Certain scenes.  Moments.  Etc.  By the time the holidays rolled around again, I saw a previously viewed copy of the film for sale at Blockbuster in New Orleans.  It was cheap and my mom hadn’t seen it yet, so I decided to pick it up.  (It would have cost about the same to rent it.)  My mom and I watched the film on Christmas Eve.  She liked it.  I, on the other hand… loved it.  I have no intention of going into any more detail about the film's story than I already have.  After all, if I’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s that there is no greater injustice that can be perpetrated against a film than expectations brought on by publicity, trailers, gossip, etc.  (Come to think of it, you may be better off taking this entire blog with a healthy pinch of salt.)  To me, the film simply is as it was described: the ultimate romantic comedy.  It’s also my favorite contemporary Christmas movie.  “A Christmas Story” and “Christmas Vacation” definitely rank high on my list, but “Love, Actually” is the one I watch every Christmas Eve, whether I’m alone or with someone.  While writing this blog, I thought it would be nice for me to include a link to the film’s trailer for all of you to see.  Sadly, though, the trailer for the film is, in this fan’s opinion, quite weak.  So, instead, I’ve decided to include a link to one of my favorite scenes.  In the event that you haven’t yet seen the film, don’t worry, I’m not spoiling anything.  This is merely a taste.  In terms of the context, this scene features the lovestruck Prime Minister (Hugh Grant) as he unwinds one evening at his Downing Street residence.  Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=05nXkNxKkW4

In the years since “Love, Actually” came out, I believe I read somewhere (and I could be wrong about this) that Grant didn’t want to shoot this scene.  If I’m not mistaken, on the day the scene was to be shot, Grant privately approached Curtis and told him that, although he’d agreed to do the film as written, he really didn’t want to shoot this particular scene.  “Why?” Curtis asked.  At this point, the story goes that Grant confessed to Curtis that he was (or is), unfortunately, a terrible dancer and didn’t want to look foolish.  Curtis made an impassioned speech as to the importance of the scene and its impact on the rest of the subplot involving the PM.  When the speech was over, Grant, apparently, said, “Get all your cameras ready and clear the set because I’m only going to do this once.”  

Grant did it once and the result was cinematic gold.  

Anyway, if you’re like me and you sometimes need a boost of Christmas spirit to help get you in the mood for the big day or if you simply want to curl up with a loved one and watch a movie that will actually make you feel good for a change, then I strongly recommend giving “Love, Actually” a go.  And, if you happen to get lucky because of it, be sure to leave a comment thanking me for the “assist.”

Happy Holidays.

-Dax

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