Nothing Hill

Remember Hugh Grant before he got caught with his pants down in L.A.? Remember him in the Nineteen-nineties, when Christopher Reeve was still a super man, sans cape, an American in REMAINS OF THE DAY and Grant was a young reporter? Remember Hugh Grant as Chopin in IMPROMPTU—innocent, delicate, courted like a woman by the very manly Miss George Sand. He had an interview where he talked about how they had to lengthen his nose, and how he had to sit and move in order to appear to be playing the piano as a virtuoso. And what of his role in the classic Jane Austen, SENSE AND SENSIBILITY, a gentlemanly homme fatal, riding the petticoat of Emma Thompson all the way through that decade? Remember when Hugh Grant could act?

And then, bless him, he went and made FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL. This film is equally as wildly anti-American as it was ironically popular in the United States. Probably because Americans are too dullard to pick up on the nicks and quips to our own nationality. Or we didn’t understand the accents. This time Andie McDowell plays the American: intriguing, ephemeral, and not much going for her in the likeability department. But what can I say, she’s Andie McDowell, we like her because of SEX, LIES, AND VIDEO TAPES. She was born to be a romantic comedy actress from roles in GREEN CARD to hair dye commercials. Still, sometimes love is like that. We love Andie McDowell in FOUR despite her un-American expressions like, “I bought it special” and “outputting”—who uses those?

FOUR contains the gravitas--namely the funeral, as well as themes of unrequited love and unacceptable love, hidden love and forbidden love—to break the mold of the genre, and rise above, making FWAAF the pinnacle of romantic comedy of my time. (Of course Meg Ryan is the queen within the lines with FRENCH KISS and HARRY MET SALLY.) Grant seems to doom his fate, pairing with McDowell, to ever-after play love-foolish roles. I saw him on an airplane once, in a movie with Julia Roberts after that, and I knew he was going down. Once you make to airline fare, I figure you’ve pretty much lost your grounding as a serious actor.

(FWAAF is rated R. For language. Half the terms they use are not profanity in the United States. Still, you would not see this film on a flight from Denver to Atlanta.)

So tell me, tell me that I’m wrong. Tell me that his work after that, his work in the new millennium is worth seeing. I rather liked him before and I could like him again, but there’s only so much face-twitching and lip-chewing of unsaid words that I can take. If he hasn’t changed, then don’t tell me anything.