Morning Jolt December 23, 2013 Merry Imminent Christmas! There will be no Jolts until December 27. Happy Obamacare Deadline Day! The News Is Still Bad Happy Obamacare Deadline Day! You've got to pick a plan by the end of today (and send in that payment!) to make sure you have health insurance for the coming year. Say, AP, how's that going?
The Affordable Care Act doesn't actually make care affordable. To celebrate, Senator Joe Manchin's calling it a "meltdown":
And look at the poll result that Obama gets to unwrap this week!
The uninsured remain persistently difficult to reach -- almost as if they don't care nearly as much about obtaining insurance as they say to pollsters:
Do Not Emulate the Characters in Love Actually. Thank You Next to "does Die Hard count as a Christmas movie?", the most highly-charged, furious debate in certain corners of the Internet this month has been whether the 2003 British romantic comedy Love Actually ranks among the all time best of holiday films and romantic comedies or whether it's actually an astonishingly bad one that demonstrates how audiences have become conditioned to feel romantic joy simply by hearing the right music and watching handsome and pretty faces. Christopher Orr threw down the gauntlet by declaring the movie was in fact the least romantic movie of all time. Emma Green punched back. Love Actually is one of those movies that's enjoyable as you're watching it but quickly falls apart if you think about it too much after wards. You walk out the theater feeling good, but when you catch it on cable a year or two or ten later, you realize some long stretches are awful. This movie is beloved because of the performances of about half of its British-acting-all-star-game cast -- it's as if George Steinbrenner became a London casting director -- covering up for the problems in the other half of its intertwined storylines. When people say they love this movie, they're probably thinking of the storylines of Hugh Grant and Martine McCutcheon, Liam Neeson and Thomas Brodie-Sangster, and Bill Nighy's lunatic aging rocker, Billy Mack. (When I saw it in the theater, the moment Rowan Atkinson's face appeared on screen, the audience started giggling. He's accumulated such a record from Blackadder, Mr. Bean, and other performances that we're conditioned to start laughing upon sight of him.) So what's wrong with this movie? For starters, for a story entitled Love Actually, character after character and scene after scene offer a creepy obsession with sex. This is not a prudish complaint. I'll put my capacity to enjoy bawdy sexual humor up against anyone else's. I'd rank the first three seasons of BBC's Coupling among the all-time funniest television comedies ever. But Love Actually blurs the line between love and sex a lot, resulting in a slew of scenes and dialogue that range from off-key to creepy:
One subplot finds two stand-ins on a porn film, nakedly mimicking every position under the sun, having actual conversations as the camera guys and lighting guys work around them. These are genuinely funny scenes, but it also guarantees that we get naked people thrusting every fifteen minutes or so. Probably the most problematic storyline, one that is nearly impossible to like if you spend more than a moment thinking about it, is Andrew Lincoln's stalker-like expression of love to his best friend's wife, Keira Knightly. His closing message to her, written on cue cards at her doorstep, is: "But for now, let me say, without hope for agenda, just because it's Christmas (and at Christmas you tell the truth) to me you are perfect. My wasted heart will love you until you look like this [showing a mummy)." What set me off is that opening, "For now." For now? For now? What, a year from now, when your marriage to my friend is on the rocks, then I'll woo you? Everyone else writing about this movie seems to interpret her good-bye kiss to him as a platonic farewell, but I'd note it's on the lips and she grabs lapels in frustration and gives him a look that says precisely the opposite. She wishes she could be with him and she's sorely tempted. After she goes back inside, he says at the end of the scene, by himself, "enough now," which some interpret as a sign that he's telling himself to let go; I always heard it and interpreted it as "that's enough for now" -- he's gotten a kiss from her on the lips, and he knows she wants him back; that's enough to make him happy . . . for now. He'll probably make another grand romantic gesture behind his best friend's back by Valentine's Day. (Lapsing into geek for a moment: Yes, I know someday Andrew Wilson will grow up to be the sheriff on Walking Dead, so he's a little tougher than he looks, but Keira Knightly's husband is Chiwetel Ejiofor, and he's an operative of the Parliament from Serenity. He's going to make his friend fall on his sword!)
Love Actually aims to show us all the joys and pain of love, which is why we have seven or eight intertwined stories and about sixteen major characters. But this ambitious range means we get awkward Brit guy's American sex fantasy AND Thompson's heartbreaking reaction to her conclusion that her husband is having an affair within a few scenes of each other, which is like having Naked Gun scenes spliced into Masterpiece Theater. ADDENDUM: From CBS News:
Somebody's going on Santa's naughty list! To read more, visit www.nationalreview.com
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Happy Obamacare Deadline Day! The News Is Still Bad
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