Not to be a punk, but I’m going to have to disagree with Keiko here and pan King Arthur straight away. I don’t know every version of the legend, but I’m pretty sure none of them involved Guinevere’s exposed midriff. Don’t get me wrong, this is the most fortunate mistake on film. I will likely not be able to miss the tribal-painted, scantily-clad Keira Knightley festival that large portions of the movie will no doubt feature, but it’s about as accurate as the ill-conceived theatrical release of I, Robot*.

* More on this in another entry…if you’re lucky.

And on the subject of Ms. Knightley, those of you with minds for romance and comedy intermingled will find nothing to dislike about Love Actually. Incredibly, it earns the glaringly overstated title of “the ULTIMATE romantic comedy!” emblazoned on its cover. It is at this point unrivaled in its genre. Trust me, I’m a connoisseur.

And despite the inferences one could make from this particular entry, I don’t get all rubbery over Keira Knightley. She’s a remarkable beauty to be certain, but I have not yet seen anything exceptional in her performances. Unlike my next subject, the talented and altogether lovely Kate Beckinsale, who has received my attention before.

However slowly, Ms. Beckinsale descends my list of actors due recognition. Whether from Hollywood pressure, through her agent, or through some fascination with vanity attributed only to herself, she has chosen roles fit for less skilled actresses in favor of wearing tight latex. All well and good, but rumours now exist that she has gone so far as to spoil her exquisitely unique beauty with cosmetic surgery. Should this turn out to be true, then no amount of Van Helsing ass-kicking and Hugh Jackman co-starring will save her from spiraling down in my esteem for her. How many vampires must one actress play to prove she can be sexy in a goth kind of way?**

When this condemnation reaches her, she will no doubt be distraught, but I am firm in my resolve on this issue. Fun is fun, but do not allow yourself to lose sight of what makes an actor more than the sum of their silicon. Call me, Kate, and we can discuss this like rational adults. No sense begging outside my window, fetching a position as that may be. It didn’t work for Pamela Anderson and it won’t work you, you brunette Barbie-wannabe.

** There’s a koan for you. And it rhymes and has nice meter.