I've learned to be leery when my sentimental, sucker-for-a-romantic-comedy wife says there is a film I "must see". It's almost never true.
Enter Love Actually, a film she has raved about for some time and thought would be a good holiday film to curl up to last night.
I'll say this: Of all the films I've seen that strain too hard for significance, have too many underdeveloped storylines jockeying for my fading attention, strand a small army of otherwise good actors in an implausible swamp of cloying schmaltz, and are embarrassingly transparent in their manipulations . . . this is the best one I've seen in the past 72 hours, at least.
Enter Love Actually, a film she has raved about for some time and thought would be a good holiday film to curl up to last night.
I'll say this: Of all the films I've seen that strain too hard for significance, have too many underdeveloped storylines jockeying for my fading attention, strand a small army of otherwise good actors in an implausible swamp of cloying schmaltz, and are embarrassingly transparent in their manipulations . . . this is the best one I've seen in the past 72 hours, at least.
