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After re-watching 'Love Actually', as every middle-class white woman at Christmas is wont to do, Kate Demolder gives her review and it’s scathing. She finds a structurally messy plotline reliant on a pre #MeToo imagining of high romance, where women are affable whores or available sad sacks and heteronormativity reigns supreme.
The Christmas rom-com has fallen on tough times. After decades of essentially printing money, the genre abruptly ran out of box-office steam sometime pre-Brexit but post-Port Tunnel. The pivot to Netflix could be the blame, says you, as may be the impressive churn-out rate of leading ladies named Jennifer that Hollywood seems to have on tap, but one Christmas rom-com seems to rule them all, and that is Richard Curtis’ Tinseltown juggernaut, Love Actually. I...
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