The 2003 film Love Actually, directed by Richard Curtis, has proved to be an ideal Christmas movie and romantic comedy. It’s also an example of deeply sexist ideas and disdain for women stepping outside the roles society has limited them to.
Hidden among the star-studded cast and feel-good holiday storylines that we all look forward to watching every year, there are deeply disturbing plot points. To put it simply, Love Actually negates the agency of minorities, particularly women, or neglects them completely, creating an egregious representation of women.
A recurring joke in the movie is the fat jokes directed at the character Natalie (Martine McCutcheon). Natalie, who works for Hugh Grant’s character, David, the Prime Minister, tells him early on that her boyfriend dumped her because she was “getting fat.” The most bizarre part about this plotline is that Natalie is not overweight.
By today’s standards, perhaps she could be considered midsize or average, but certainly not the “chubby girl” that even she calls herself. Throughout the film, there are other points where other characters make this joke. In one instance, a world leader sexually harasses her, and in another, Natalie’s father calls her the nickname “Plumpy.”
This undertone that Natalie is overweight assumes the role of Hugh Grant to become something of a “hero” when he ultimately pursues her romantically. The resolution of this story isn’t that she becomes secure and confident; it’s that despite her appearance and weight, he still loves her.
One of the more interesting storylines of Love Actually comes from Jamie (Colin Firth), who’s a writer staying at a French home to finish his book and falls in love with the woman, Aurelia, he hired to clean his house.
Jamie cannot speak Portuguese, and Aurelia cannot speak English, so the two cannot properly speak to each other. Despite the mutual connection, Jamie returns to England only to realize his love for Aurelia, eventually returning to France to confess his love to her in Portuguese.
Not only does this emphasize the stereotype of the passive and silent woman as the most easily loved, but it also establishes the idea that this great love story is so incredible because it fulfills the male’s dream of being the pursuer.
If Jamie had not gone back to France, would Aurelia have gone to England? Probably not. After all, he’s just a guy she could never speak to, but yet again, this movie makes the man out to be the hero.
The film’s overall portrayal of women as a species demotes them to a subordinate role to the men in their lives and deprives them of their agency. The Bechdel Test is a test commonly used in film analysis to determine the measurement of female representation in dialogue.
To pass, the film must contain a conversation between two female characters about something other than a man. Somehow, this movie does pass the Bechdel Test, but only barely, with a small conversation between Emma Thompson’s character, Karen, speaking to her daughter about her role as a lobster in the nativity play. Much of Karen’s storyline is about her struggling marriage to Harry (Alan Rickman). The film sets itself up for the viewer to expect her to leave her sleazy husband, who has been cheating on her with his secretary.
After discovering his affair, when she doesn’t receive a necklace she saw him buy, she listens to the Joni Mitchell CD Harry has given her for Christmas, which evokes a certain sadness and rage within the viewer as you empathize with her. Despite this sadness and rage, this scene also almost feels assertive and hopeful that she will leave her husband now that she has confirmed his affair. However, as the movie comes to a close, there is never concrete evidence of Karen leaving Harry, and we can assume they stay together for their children, once again negating women’s power and autonomy.
Despite Love Actually’s troubling heterosexual and racial homogeneity, the storyline I find most disturbing is of Juliet (Kiera Knightly), Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor), and Peter’s stalkerish friend, Mark (Andrew Lincoln). Even though Peter and Juliet are newlyweds and very happy, Mark is a pouty white man who wishes his best friend’s wife was his.
It isn’t until he confesses his love to Juliet after her wedding, and a pity kiss from her, that he can move past his obsession with her. Looking past this obvious portrayal of a woman being a man’s possession and the romanticism of stalking, Peter is the only racialized character to have a major storyline. Yet, the film still depicts him as oblivious and ignorant to his best friend being in love with his wife. The attempt at having diversity within this film is ultimately ruined by another white man infiltrating it.
So, why do we love Love Actually so much, and why will I continue to watch it year after year? When the holiday season comes around, we set aside the objectionable and questionable politics surrounding many of the themes of this film in favour of nostalgia, grandiosity, and the film’s fantastical romance.
On paper and in reality, we hate it. It misrepresents women, lacks diversity, and romanticizes disturbing themes. It isn’t until we sit down and watch Emma Thompson listening to Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” or watch Prime Minister David dance around his house that we start to love it again, not for what it represents, but for the feeling it provides.