Episode 63: 2025 Annual Holiday Special #2 – Love Actually and Bottom 5 Subplots

Just four days before Christmas, the holiday that somehow balances goodwill and rampant consumerism with alarming confidence, Filmjitsu unwraps its latest seasonal offering: a full review of Love Actually. Richard Curtis’s 2003 all-star rom-com is a film that lives in two completely different cultural realities at once: perpetually lodged near the top of “Best Christmas Movies Ever” lists, while also earning a permanent spot on more than a few “Worst Movies of All Time” rankings. And in true Filmjitsu fashion, the co-hosts are split right down the middle: one embracing the movie’s emotional generosity, the other recoiling from its aggressively cozy chaos. After wrestling with the film’s tonal whiplash, the guys count down their Bottom Five Subplots, side stories that feel less “interwoven tapestry” and more “air-dropped from completely different movies,” complete with crowbarred romances, third-act hijacks, and baffling detours involving everything from wolves to heroin. 2025 wraps with a final Dueling Double Bills match, and this time it’s so high stakes that listener involvement may be unavoidable. It’s a merry-and-bright holiday special done the Filmjitsu way, which means no one gets what they want… except listeners who had cinematic suffering at the top of their Christmas lists!


Love Actually (2003)

Dir. by Richard Curtis

Love, Actually isn’t a movie you defend — it’s a movie you admit to loving while listing its crimes.”

Basic Stats

  • Writer/Director: Richard Curtis
  • Release: November 2003 (UK), November 14, 2003 (US)
  • Budget: Approx. $40–45 million
  • Worldwide Gross: Approx. $245 million
  • Runtime: 135 minutes (the thing Mike will never forgive)

Despite its reputation as a “messy” film, it was a massive financial success, becoming one of the highest-grossing romantic comedies of the decade — especially impressive for an ensemble British rom-com released in a crowded holiday corridor.


Richard Curtis: The Architect

Curtis was already a rom-com writing god by this point:

  • Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994)
  • Notting Hill (1999)
  • Bridget Jones’s Diary (2001)

Love, Actually was his directorial debut, which explains a lot:

  • Script-first instincts
  • Loose tonal control
  • Emotional confidence occasionally outpacing structural discipline

Curtis has since admitted he tried to do too much, and has publicly said that if he were to remake the film now, he’d remove or heavily revise several storylines — especially the ones involving power imbalance and gender politics.


Reception: Immediate vs. Long-Term

  • Critical response (2003): Mixed-to-negative
    • Frequently criticized for:
      • Uneven tone
      • Questionable romantic ethics
      • Bloated structure
  • Audience response: Strong from day one
    • Excellent word-of-mouth
    • Rapid ascent to holiday perennial

Over time, the movie has become a cultural Rorschach test:

  • Loved as cozy, emotionally generous comfort food
  • Hated as manipulative, regressive nonsense
  • Frequently both at the same time by the same person

Very few people feel neutral about it — which is part of why it endures.


Awards & Recognition (Yes, Really)

  • Bill Nighy
    • BAFTA Winner – Best Supporting Actor
    • Widely cited as the film’s standout element
  • Golden Globe Nominations
    • Best Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy
    • Best Actor – Musical or Comedy (Hugh Grant)

It did not receive major Oscar traction, which is exactly right for the kind of movie it is.


Filmmaking & Production Anecdotes

The Cast Was Assembled on Reputation Alone

Many actors signed on before reading the full script, trusting Curtis and the ensemble:

  • Emma Thompson
  • Alan Rickman
  • Bill Nighy
  • Liam Neeson

Several worked for reduced salaries, which helped fund the massive cast.


The Cue Card Scene Was Nearly Cut

Andrew Lincoln’s now-infamous cue card confession was almost removed for being too strange and uncomfortable. Curtis ultimately kept it because test audiences reacted strongly — not always positively, but memorably.

Curtis later admitted that reaction was a warning sign.


Emma Thompson’s Joni Mitchell Scene

Often cited as one of the most emotionally authentic moments in the film:

  • Thompson reportedly drew on personal experience with infidelity
  • Curtis wrote the scene specifically to avoid melodrama — no confrontation, no speeches, just emotional containment

This scene is frequently singled out even by critics who hate the movie.


Hugh Grant’s Dance

  • Not choreographed
  • Grant hated filming it
  • Curtis insisted it remain awkward and imperfect

It’s now the single most iconic moment in the movie and has been endlessly referenced, parodied, and homaged.


Surprising Cast & Crew Credits

Alan Rickman: A Rare Reputation Ding

This is an important point, and you’re absolutely right to flag it.

Rickman’s Usual Screen Persona

Up to 2003, Rickman’s brand was:

  • Morally complex villains (Die Hard, Robin Hood)
  • Tragic romantic figures (Sense and Sensibility)
  • Authority with menace and gravity (Harry Potter)

Even when he played bad men, they were:

  • Intentional
  • Self-aware
  • Commanding

Why Love, Actually Hurts His Legacy (Just a Little)

This is one of the only performances in his career where:

  • The character is weak, not conflicted
  • The wrongdoing feels banal, not tragic
  • The film asks the audience to empathize without fully earning it

Rickman himself reportedly had reservations about the storyline, but trusted Curtis — and Curtis leaned heavily on Rickman’s innate gravitas to sell behavior that, frankly, doesn’t deserve it.

The result:

  • His presence elevates the material
  • But also shields the character from consequences
  • Which makes the infidelity feel more insidious than tragic

It’s not that Rickman is bad here — it’s that his credibility is being used as a narrative smokescreen.


Contrast With Emma Thompson

This is where the imbalance becomes glaring:

  • Thompson does the emotional labor
  • Rickman absorbs the sympathy
  • The film ultimately centers his regret rather than her devastation

It’s one of the few times in Rickman’s career where his usual authority actually works against the story.


Post-Legacy Perspective

This hasn’t ruined Rickman’s reputation — far from it — but it is:

  • A frequent citation in retrospectives
  • One of the first performances people now mention when discussing how Love, Actually aged poorly
  • A rare example where Rickman’s casting arguably softened the film’s moral clarity

If a lesser actor played that role, the character would be outright condemned.

Bill Nighy

Before this:

  • Known mostly as a character actor After this:
  • Pirates of the Caribbean
  • Underworld
  • Harry Potter
  • About Time (another Curtis joint)

This movie rebooted his career trajectory.


Martin Freeman

  • Plays the softcore stand-in actor
  • This was pre–The Office (UK) explosion internationally
  • One year later: Shaun of the Dead
  • Eventually: The Hobbit, Sherlock, Fargo

He is hilariously overqualified in hindsight.


Keira Knightley

  • Only 18 years old during filming
  • Already coming off Bend It Like Beckham and Pirates
  • Has since expressed discomfort with how sexualized and framed her character was

Important context when that storyline comes up.


Chiwetel Ejiofor

  • Plays Peter, the groom
  • At the time: still largely unknown
  • Later:
    • Children of Men
    • 12 Years a Slave
    • MCU (Doctor Strange)

Blink-and-you-miss-it early appearance.


Thomas Brodie-Sangster

  • The drummer kid
  • Later:
    • Game of Thrones
    • Maze Runner
  • Famously does not age, which has become its own cultural meme

Cultural Legacy

  • Regularly appears on:
    • “Best Christmas Movies”
    • “Worst Christmas Movies”
    • “Most Overrated Movies”
    • “Comfort Watch Classics”
  • Inspired countless ensemble holiday rom-coms, most of which misunderstood what actually worked here
  • Has become shorthand for:
    • Romantic messiness
    • Emotional sprawl

The Overstuffed Ensemble Holiday Movie Boom

(a.k.a. “Love, Actually broke something and Hollywood kept picking at it”)

The Garry Marshall Cinematic Pile-Up Trilogy

Garry Marshall took the Love, Actually template and removed almost all restraint:

Valentine’s Day (2010)

  • Cast: Julia Roberts, Anne Hathaway, Ashton Kutcher, Jamie Foxx, Jessica Alba, Bradley Cooper, Shirley MacLaine, and about eight more people you forgot were in this
  • Reception: Savaged by critics
  • Box Office: ~$216 million worldwide
  • Problem: Storylines barely intersect, exist at wildly different tonal registers, and feel algorithmically assembled rather than emotionally motivated

This is Love, Actually without the British charm, restraint, or self-awareness — just IP vibes and cross-marketing.


New Year’s Eve (2011)

  • Same structure
  • More stars
  • Even less connective tissue
  • Feels like a contractual obligation masquerading as a movie

At this point, the formula was clearly cast-first, script-last.


Mother’s Day (2016)

  • The franchise’s death rattle
  • Audiences finally tapped out
  • Proof that the model only works when viewers believe the filmmaker cares about the characters

Other Spiritual Descendants

Love the Coopers (2015)

  • Cast: Diane Keaton, John Goodman, Olivia Wilde, Ed Helms, Marisa Tomei, Alan Arkin
  • Narrated by: A literal dog
  • Reception: Mixed-to-negative
  • Legacy: Largely forgotten

This one is especially useful as a comparison because it’s explicitly trying to recreate Love, Actually’s “family + holiday + overlapping misery” vibe — but without the pop-cultural electricity. It’s competent, but bloodless.


He’s Just Not That Into You (2009) (Non-holiday but structurally relevant)

  • A clear descendant in structure
  • Ensemble romantic fatalism
  • Less whimsy, more cynicism
  • Shows how quickly the format curdles without seasonal sentimentality

Why Love, Actually Endures Where Others Don’t

This is your thesis moment if you want it:

Love, Actually works not because it’s well-structured — it isn’t — but because it feels emotionally generous, even when it’s wrong. The imitators copy the structure, not the sincerity.

Most of the copycats are emotionally transactional: show up, recognize a star, move on.

My Personal Ranking – The 13 Loves of Love, Actually!

13. Alan Rickman and Forward Office Girl

Dead last, and for good reason. This is Love, Actually at its most unforgivable: a middle-aged man with power, wealth, and a loving wife quietly imploding his marriage because a younger coworker flirts with him and gives him the emotional equivalent of a scented candle. There’s no arc here — just vibes, infidelity, and a devastating Joni Mitchell needle drop used like a blunt object. It’s not romantic, it’s not tragic in a productive way, and it makes everyone involved worse. Even Rickman can’t save it.


12. The Softcore Actors

A running gag that never escalates beyond its initial joke. Two attractive people pretend to have sex while earnestly discussing their feelings, which is mildly amusing once and then aggressively redundant. It’s a sketch stretched past its breaking point, like Richard Curtis forgot to delete a DVD menu bonus feature and accidentally made it canon.


11. Liam Neeson and “Claudia Schiffer-ish”

This is grief as a punchline, which is… a choice. A recently widowed man pivoting into shallow celebrity attraction feels emotionally reckless at best. It wants to be charming and instead plays like a coping mechanism no therapist would sign off on. Very odd pay-off too, but hey, I still thought it was ok.


10. British Kid in America

A fantasy so aggressively British it might as well be colonial propaganda. This storyline suggests American women are endlessly horny, incapable of subtlety, and immediately aroused by accents. It’s not offensive so much as baffling — like a 13-year-old’s travel diary with a passport stamp.


9. Mr. Bean

Rowan Atkinson appears to exist solely to delay gift-wrapping and flirt with cosmic annoyance. It’s funny for about twelve seconds and then overstays its welcome. That said, I won’t pretend I don’t laugh every single time.


8. Laura Linney’s Office Romance Interruptus

Emotionally brutal in a way the movie barely earns. Laura Linney is phenomenal, but the film treats her loneliness like a cruel joke, cutting away just when something human might happen. It’s effective, but also feels weirdly punitive — as if the movie is scolding her for having responsibilities.


7. Liam Neeson’s Drummer Step Kid and the Singer

This is absurd, but in a way that finally clicks with the movie’s tone. It’s ridiculous, earnest, and powered entirely by childhood confidence. The airport dash is nonsense, but it’s joyful nonsense — and the movie needs that.


6. Walking Dead Guy and Keira Knightley

A deeply unsettling storyline masquerading as romantic restraint. Cue cards don’t fix the fact that this is emotional infidelity wrapped in a Christmas bow. And yet… it works in the moment because it understands the power of silence and regret — even if the implications are horrifying.


5. Colin Firth’s Portuguese Love

This is pure, old-fashioned movie romance nonsense, and I mean that as praise. Two people fall in love without speaking the same language, powered entirely by vibes, longing glances, and a lake incident. It’s ridiculous, but it knows it’s ridiculous — and commits fully.


4. Bill Nighy and His Manager

The purest relationship in the film. No notes. Just platonic devotion, self-awareness, and the quiet realization that the person who knows you best isn’t always the one you expected. Bill Nighy carries this movie on his glitter-covered back.


3. Liam Neeson and His Step Son

The emotional backbone of the film, surprisingly enough. It handles grief, connection, and found family with actual care. This is the version of Love, Actually that understands loss and how people fumble their way through it.


2. Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman

Yes, it’s paired with the worst storyline — but Emma Thompson elevates it into something real. That bedroom scene with the CD is devastating because it’s quiet, contained, and painfully adult. This is where the movie briefly transcends itself.


1. Prime Minister Hugh Grant and Natalie

This is the movie firing on all cylinders. Hugh Grant weaponizing awkward charm, class commentary baked into rom-com fluff, and a genuinely funny arc that earns its payoff. The dance alone secures its spot at number one. It’s silly, self-aware, and understands exactly what movie it’s in.

BOTTOM FIVE SUBPLOTS

So for this week’s Bottom Five, we’re counting down our Bottom Five Subplots — which felt especially appropriate given that our main review is Love, Actually, a movie that is essentially nothing but subplots.

These aren’t just bad side stories, and they’re not about movies I secretly love despite their flaws. In fact, I’m pretty lukewarm on most of these, and I actively loathe at least one of them. What I was looking for were subplots that don’t support the main story, don’t deepen the themes, and don’t even really run alongside the movie — they hijack it.

These are the moments where a film swerves away from the thing it’s supposed to be about because somebody didn’t trust the core idea to carry the runtime on its own. Sometimes that’s a studio note, sometimes it’s a star contract, sometimes it’s full-blown franchise panic — but whatever the reason, the result is the same. The movie stops being the movie you showed up for and becomes something else entirely, often at the worst possible time.

So my approach here was pretty straightforward. I was looking for subplots that feel stapled on, crowbarred in, or imported from a completely different genre — the kind of narrative detours that actively redirect the movie away from what it does best.

So with that in mind… what was your approach, Mike? And what is your number five?

5. Planet of the Apes (1968)

The crowbarred-in “romance” nobody asked for

Franklin J. Schaffner’s Planet of the Apes is one of the sharpest, most savage science-fiction allegories ever put on screen — a film about power, language, dehumanization, and the terrifying fragility of civilization. Which makes it all the more baffling that it pauses to saddle Charlton Heston’s Taylor with Nova, a mute human companion who exists largely as emotional ballast and implied romantic pairing.

The subplot isn’t explicit, but it’s unmistakable: Nova is framed as Taylor’s partner, prize, and tether to “humanity,” stripped of language and agency so she won’t complicate the film’s ideas. It adds nothing to the satire, undercuts the movie’s critique of hierarchies, and feels like a studio mandate born of a belief that even the bleakest sci-fi parable still needs a girl for the hero. The film didn’t need it — and that’s exactly why it makes the list.


4. IT Chapter Two (2019)

When trauma becomes a fetch quest

Andy Muschietti’s follow-up to the wildly successful IT trades the focused dread of the first film for sprawl, bloat, and repetition. The core problem? A subplot structure that turns childhood trauma into a series of interchangeable side missions. Each adult Loser is sent off to confront a personal fear vignette that neither escalates the threat nor deepens the character in any meaningful way.

Instead of tightening the screws on Pennywise, the movie repeatedly pauses to remind us of backstories we already know, draining momentum and killing tension. Critics and audiences alike noted that the film becomes less scary the longer it runs — a rare feat for a horror sequel with a massive budget and an iconic villain. When your monster keeps getting sidelined by narrative busywork, something has gone very wrong.


3. The Poseidon Adventure (1972)

Romantic soap opera in the middle of mass death

Irwin Allen’s disaster classic flips a luxury liner upside down and strands its passengers in a hellscape of fire, flooding, and structural collapse. It’s a terrific premise — immediately undermined by the film’s insistence on servicing melodramatic relationship subplots that feel ripped from a daytime soap.

The most egregious offender is the Ernest Borgnine / Stella Stevens marital redemption arc, which plays at maximum volume while people are actively dying around them. Instead of sharpening the stakes, the subplot becomes a tonal intrusion, repeatedly stopping the survival narrative cold. This was a hallmark of ’70s disaster cinema — star contracts demanded arcs — but Poseidon remains one of the clearest examples of human drama drowning out the disaster itself.


2. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016)

Doomsday as a studio panic button

Zack Snyder’s Batman v Superman is already overstuffed with ideas about power, fear, and mythic symbolism, but nothing exemplifies its structural collapse quite like Lex Luthor’s decision to unleash Doomsday as a backup plan. Loosely cribbed from The Death of Superman comics, Doomsday here isn’t the point — he’s an escape hatch.

Lex’s manipulation of public opinion and orchestration of the Batman/Superman conflict has already worked. The movie has peaked. And then, suddenly, a gray CGI monster shows up because the studio wants to kill Superman and move the chess pieces toward Justice League. The result is a legendary comic storyline reduced to a third-act obligation, hijacking the movie’s themes and turning its climax into franchise maintenance instead of drama.


1. Three Men and a Baby (1987)

Heroin dealers… in a nursery comedy

Leonard Nimoy’s wildly successful remake of the French farce Three Men and a Cradle is remembered as a warm, genial comedy about reluctant bachelors discovering parenthood. It is also, inexplicably, about drug dealers, stolen heroin, and hitmen firing guns inside a Manhattan apartment full of baby furniture.

While the crime subplot at least fits the absurdist tone of the French original, its near-verbatim import into the Hollywood remake is astonishingly off-key. Every time the movie threatens to settle into cozy charm, it slams into genre whiplash — because nothing says heartfelt yuppie comedy like violent criminals looking for narcotics behind the changing table. Even contemporary critics flagged it as baffling, and decades later it remains one of the most tone-deaf subplot choices in mainstream studio comedy history.

I’m Mike, so I never need notes or make mistakes! :::raspberry sounds:::