Emma Thompson tells Liam Neeson that she’s obviously “terribly concerned that your wife just died but anywayz bye, LYLAS.” Later, she tells him, “Get a grip. People hate sissies. And no one’s going to shag you if you cry all the time.” Oh, she’s just terrifically naughty, isn’t she? (Don’t worry, though! She’ll be punished later for her infernal personality!)
In an office building somewhere, some fucking guy is running around throwing sandwiches at people and asking female office workers if they want his “lovely nuts.” It’s possible that he says something important, but I couldn’t tell you because the music is louder than the dialogue because #competence.
Oh, looks like his name is Colin, and he’s terribly, terribly oppressed because no ladies want to sit upon his ginger ween (idea: could it possibly be because you wear a shirt that says SATISFACTION GUARANTEED and call complete strangers “my future wife” in a professional setting and then cry about not receiving immediate intercourse?). Colin decides to go to America in order to locate skanks. This is his entire plotline.
Hugh Grant plays the role of “horny prime minister,” which raises the question: What percentage of Americans believe that Hugh Grant literally is the prime minister and/or boy king of the UK? I’ll bet you the number is not zero, and that is why we should all probably eat poison.
It’s Hugh Grant’s first day on the job, and he’s saying hello to his new staff. One staffer is named Natalie, and as far as I can tell, her job is “woman.” She’s also incredibly, disgustingly fat, like a beanbag chair with feet, according to literally everyone else in the movie who apparently all have Natalie Dysmorphic Disorder (a silent killer). Natalie accidentally says some swears in front of the prime minister, and then she makes lemon-face for forty-five minutes. Actually, she’s probably just thinking about delicious lemons because NATALIE HUNGRY!!!!!!!
Hugh Grant falls instantly in love with Natalie, which is understandable, because she hasn’t yet exceeded her Love Actually attractiveness word quota. (The quota is twenty-seven words before you become Emma Thompson and must be composted.)
Keira Knightley is marrying Chiwetel Ejiofor while wearing some sort of terrible hairy cardigan. In the middle of their wedding, the best man reveals his “big surprise” (and no, it’s not his penis…kind of): he arranged for a large choir/marching band flash mob to interrupt the ceremony that Knightley and Ejiofor carefully, painstakingly planned to celebrate their love in order to undermine their relationship and attempt to steal the bride for his own ON HER WEDDING DAY.
HEY. DUDE. YOU’RE A DICK. THIS ISN’T ROMANCE, IT’S CRIME.
Also, why did nobody notice those seventeen strangers with saxophones taking up half the audience? Fuck these people. And fuck Laura Linney for wearing her woolly hat during a fucking wedding ceremony in a fucking church.
Meanwhile, on the set of a movie that is supposedly not a porno but also apparently doesn’t contain anything other than fucking, Martin Freeman and a blonde lady named Judy are simulating intercourse. The blonde lady has to take her top off so that Tony, who is also Colin’s best friend, can light her nipples. (This is one of those movies where you’re supposed to be impressed that the characters know each other.)
By the way, wasn’t that guy JUST AT A WEDDING!? Like, twelve seconds ago?
Yep! There he was! Wearing a different outfit. Twelve seconds ago. Hanging out with Colin backstage at the Knightley-Ejiofor nuptials because Colin is both a sandwich deliveryman and a caterer. This is either horrible editing or a deliberate prank to make white people feel like they can’t tell Black people apart.
Also, is there only one building in London? Is that what’s going on? WHY ARE THE WEDDING AND THE FUNERAL AND THE PORNO ALL IN THE SAME WEIRD MILLIONAIRE CHURCH?
Anyway, then Tony asks Martin Freeman to massage Judy’s breasts. “For the lighting.”
Right.
Alan Rickman calls his employee Laura Linney into his office to talk about whether or not she “loves” her coworker Karl. Because apparently she’s just constantly sitting around staring at Karl behind a veil of silent darkness because everyone in this movie is a fucking creep.
RUN LIKE THE WIND, KARL. RUN AND NEVER LOOK BACK.
Alan Rickman tells Laura Linney that “the time has come to do something about it.” Like touch his genitals in the break room, I guess. Um, sorry, WHAT KIND OF BUSINESS MEETING IS THIS? Was the working title of this shit Hostile Work Environment: The Movie?
In keeping with that theme, Alan Rickman’s secretary is just constantly pointing at her vagina and licking her own face like she’s a porno actress who forgot she was doing a mainstream movie. Or, more accurately, like the character is a porno actress who forgot she was working in a real office. I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with porno actresses, or that the actress who plays Alan Rickman’s secretary is doing a bad actress job, I mean that LOVE ACTUALLY SEES NO PROBLEM WITH TREATING ITS FEMALE CHARACTERS LIKE GIANT BIPEDAL VAGINAS IN SWEATER VESTS.
(Also, she’s still looking for a venue for the holiday party and it’s only three weeks before Christmas!?!?! This is why you shouldn’t hire any non-sentient organ to do clerical work.)
Anyway, the flirtation is a prob because Alan Rickman is married to Emma Thompson, but don’t worry—she wears foundation garments and talks too much (see above) and therefore deserves to die alone with nothing but Joni Mitchell for comfort.
Laura Linney, the only other female character with some
