Were the haters more than mere bastards so heartless they wouldn't even stand for make believe romantic running through airports? Were they actually astute observors of the cinema's propensity to mytholigize romance and, thus, its inevitable trickle down effect to real life where all us hapless wannabe lovers expect January Jones to be waiting for us at the corner bar?
Were the lovers more than mere pollyannas whose devotion to cotton candy ethos render them disappointed upon whimsy-infused excursions to London to discover not every single British woman is exactly like Sienna Miller? Were they actually the last of the romantics, the old guard fighting for the right to maintain belief in fairy-tales in a world gone cold from incessant analytics and cries of "that would never happen in real life"?
I weighed all of this and even went so far as to concoct a non-debatable thesis (“Love Actually” is totally the awesomest ) in order to formulate a point-packed essay to defend this film a few of my friends and I watch each Thanksgiving night in a tryptophan and bourbon induced haze. But then I realized something. I realized such an essay was virtually pointless in the face of one inescapable fact…….
That is, Keira Knightley’s hat is just so fetch. If we can't set aside our squabbles this holiday season all in the name of Keira's hat, what hope do we have?