If you know me, you may be surprised to learn I adore “Love, Actually”.
If you really know me, you likely aren’t that surprised at all.
It is that time of year when everyone rails on this holiday classic. And look, I am not here to change your opinion on the movie. People like what they like and there are flaws. Let’s make a deal: I won’t try to convince you to embrace this film if you back off about “The West Wing”, m’kay?
It is, in many, ways, a fluffy film. People fall after exchanging a look. Best friends go behind backs and proclaim love…and we are meant to swoon. Too many male bosses are pining for their subordinates. Things come together too simply. Hell, things fall apart too cleanly. It is glittered candy in DVD form.
Love is not simple. It is stomach flus. It is parent teacher conferences. It is enduring delayed flights and too many bills and arguments that aren’t really about the argument at all. It is about trust that can slip away, that you cannot take for granted because there are no guarantees of forever or even tomorrow.
Love is fleeting and elusive and all too rare. It is not something that you can work towards or earn or you deserve. Love cannot be willed. It is this magnificent unknowable thing that just appears if you are lucky.
And one silly, silly movie can let you believe that it could be right there, waiting for you at the office or on vacation or after a tragedy. The world is hard. Vulnerability is mocked, hope is hidden. For 90 minutes, “Love, Actually” lets you roll around in sheer optimism without the messiness and fear and the runny noses and broken radiators.
Hope, sometimes, is actually all you need. Unreasonable, unsullied, wide-eyed hope.
