My lovely wife was getting nervous as Christmas approached: Love Actually wasn’t available on Netflix streaming or Verizon on-demand. So finally we had to buy the DVD from Amazon (with faster shipping to make sure it arrived before Christmas).  This means we need never worry that we’ll be without Love Actually when we need it.  Phew.

The thing is, every year her complaints about the movie increase.  Every year she notices more implausibilities and other assorted irritants to raise her ire.  Here are a few.  (I left out many more in the interest of brevity.)

• Why can’t any of the men in this picture close the deal with the woman they want? ? Even Claudia Schiffer can’t make Liam Neeson ask for a playdate, coffee date, anything?  A porn star stand-in can’t ask out a costar?  Mr. Underpants can’t ask out Laura Linney in 2 years, 7 months?  Colin the caterer is the only one who can open his mouth and flirt with a woman.
• Why don’t most characters wear warm clothing outdoors? 
• Why would Keira Knightley’s wedding video be ruined?  A pro uses two cameras.
• Why was the prime minister home alone on Christmas eve?  Why couldn’t he get the address of a recent employee by phone?
• What’s up with the all the fat jokes?  Natalie, Aurelia’s sister, “my fat manager,” and so on. Is it a feel-good movie or what?

None of these problems keep her from watching, though. Because, you know, Hugh Grant.  And, especially, Bill Nighy.  Here is a writer in Salon making the case that Love Actually is the worst Christmas movie ever.  She calls it “demoralizing, misogynistic holiday twaddle.”  I dunno.  I guess I’ll have to see it a few more times to decide if I agree.