I find Love, Actually to be … anti-romantic, actually. And also misogynist. To me, a love story is one in which a couple finds their way to love through some kind of barrier meant to keep them apart, or comes together and then fights to stay together. The stories in Love, Actually that end well are basically just pretty people who look at each other, decide to be in love, and well, not much time left because we have sixteen other stories to tell, so we’ll leave it there. There are also far too many men who sleep with or attempt to seduce the women who work for them. The Keira Knightley storyline is about a man who stalks his best friend’s wife, and were it completely unchanged but set to a horror film score would be truly terrifying. The only woman with a discernible personality is Emma Thompson, so of course she’s the cuckolded wife. Laura Linney also gets shat upon by this movie, because the co-worker crush she’s brought home can’t deal with the fact that a mentally ill brother will postpone their coitus, so nope, he’s just gone. A story about a fat girl that a dashing man finds irresistible could have been interesting, except whoops — that actress is not fat; she’s probably a size 4. Most of the men in this movie are pigs, and the women are simply objects for the men to woo and win. (Should I go on? Because I could, LOL.)