May 28, 1999 | If you’re in the market for a love story with lots of laughs, consider the unlikely pairing of a timid bookstore owner and the world’s most famous actress in Notting Hill. This is the most wonderfully witty and charmingly sophisticated romantic comedy to come from Great Britain since Four Weddings and a Funeral. And like that smashingly successful sleeper, this new treat comes equipped with a scintillating screenplay by Richard Curtis, and an irresistibly deft lead performance by Hugh Grant. Add Julia Roberts to the mix, and you have a brightly modern version of old-fashioned movie magic.
Indeed, there’s a tantalizing hint of 1953’s Roman Holiday in the air as the ordinary bloke played Grant is drawn into the orbit of Robert’ luminous superstar. William “Will” Thacker (Grant) is spending just another quiet day in his humble corner of Notting Hill, a multiculturally rich West London suburb, when Hollywood royalty wanders into his travel bookstore. Anna Scott (Julia Roberts) wants to not be noticed, and so, at first, Will does his stammering best to pretend she isn’t who she is. After he accidentally spills orange juice onto her blouse, his intentions are strictly honorable when he suggests that they repair to his nearby apartment so she can clean up. When she seals the end of their brief encounter with a kiss, he is totally surprised and utterly dumbstruck. He figures that will be the end of it, but, of course, it isn’t.
One of the many pleasant surprises to be savored in Notting Hill is the way director Roger Michell (Persuasion) paces his mating dance. There is a genially relaxed air to the proceedings, allowing the audience plenty of time to fully appreciate the engaging — and sometimes not so engaging — quirks of the lead characters. And speaking of unengaging quirkiness: Roberts is impressively fearless in her willingness to reveal a nasty edginess when Anna is distraught. Those occasional moments of demanding-diva unreasonableness serve only to make the rest of her portrayal all the more winning.
Grace notes are generously tossed about the movie like so much confetti. Rhys Ifans plays Spike, Will’s slovenly, hygienically challenged roommate, as an unfiltered goof throughout much of the film — but the character winds up being smarter than he looks (and likely smells). Bella — Will’s ex-girlfriend, now married to his best buddy, and engagingly played by Gina McKee — is confined to a wheelchair because, well, some people in this life are confined to wheelchairs, but they don’t let that define them. (Neither do Curtis and Michell.) The inevitable third-act race to avoid a permanent split between two lovers is set to Stevie Wonder’s version of “We Can Work It out,” quite possibly the best cover of a Beatle song ever. And while this may sound too inside-baseball by half, trust me: Notting Hill features the most accurate depiction of a movie press junket in the history of movies.
As always, Grant is a master at using precisely-placed pauses to give even mundane dialogue a clever spin. Desperate to sound suave, or least not completely tongue-tied, while a movie star stands in his kitchen, Will offers Anna a soft drink, or juice, or maybe “some disgusting syrupy drink… pretending to have something to do… with fruits of the forest.” The line may not seem all that funny on paper. But Grant mines it for pure comedic gold. He and Roberts are a match made in movie heaven, and they’re surrounded by superlative supporting players (including, in addition to aforementioned, good-sport stars in surprise cameos) who help to make Notting Hill one of the most enjoyable destinations on your summer moviegoing itinerary.
