1999 was a big year for movies. It was the year that The Matrix‘s slow-motion bullet influenced action movies for years to come. It was the year American Beauty won Best Picture at the Academy Awards and Oscar fans have been arguing about it ever since. It was the year Pokémon jumped from Gameboys and TV to the big screen. And worst of all, it was the year that disappointed a generation of Star Wars fans with the release of The Phantom Menace.
To celebrate that landmark year in film’s 20th Anniversary, The Pop Break continues its year-long retrospective of 1999’s most influential (at least to us) films with TV editor, Matt Taylor, arguing that Notting Hill is a rom-com that wants us to respect movie starts.
I was only 5 when Notting Hill first hit theaters, and it would be years before I actually saw it. I wasn’t allowed to see Pretty Woman, but I knew that both my parents saw it on a date and absolutely hated it and I could recognize the iconic poster whenever I took a trip to the video store. Even though I probably wasn’t old enough to do so, I watched Sleeping with the Enemy on cable with my mom countless times as a kid.
I remember when my mom came home from seeing Stepmom and, as she often did, recounted the plot as I got ready for bed — taking a few breaks to sob about the story’s details. The actress’ face was on the cover of many entertainment magazines that entered our house, and her episode of Friends (my parents’ favorite show) was referenced often in my home. I was 5, and I barely understood what the film industry was, but I knew that Julia Roberts was a movie star.
But I also grew up during what felt like a very hostile time to be a movie star. Amidst the major filmgoing experiences of the late ’90s and early ’00s, I also remember hearing about Nicole Kidman’s divorce from Tom Cruise, and the many high profile relationships he had the following years. Then, of course, there was Brad Pitt’s divorce from Jennifer Aniston and, later, his relationship with Angelina Jolie. Gossip items like this were just as formative on my film taste as the actual movies I watched—and not just because my mom had a longstanding ban on Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise vehicles after their breakups, in solidarity with their ex-wives.
It’s no secret that tabloids and even some more professional entertainment magazines can be mean-spirited and cruel in their coverage, particularly when it comes to women. But the cultural conversation around movie stars like Roberts, Kidman, Jolie, and Aniston always stuck out as cruel to me, even if I couldn’t quite articulate why. The general consensus seemed to be that, because these women “chose” to become famous, they didn’t have the right to complain or express contempt for the way they were covered. It wasn’t enough that their movies were subject to criticism; they were living life on a public stage. And I have many memories of my mom expressing sympathy for these women about literally anything… a divorce, a poorly received film, etc… and someone (often, but not always, a man) telling her, “don’t feel sorry for them, they’re millionaires.”
Notting Hill, in addition to being a very sweet romantic comedy, challenges that notion. It’s the story of Anna Scott (Roberts), the most famous actress in Hollywood, who visits the quiet, titular London town one day and meets a shy bookshop owner, played by Hugh Grant. The two fall in love, but are immediately faced with a host of problems, namely that Anna’s life is constantly being watched and critiqued by millions. We also see her being stalked by gossip columnists, harassed by random men who’ve seen her movies, and even learn that she’s been the victim of a nude photo leak. We grow to understand that her life is far from the dream we’ve been led to believe it is. And, most crucially, we see that these glamorous figures on the cover of magazines are actually human beings with feelings and emotions no less valid than our own.
Again, I saw Notting Hill years after it actually came out – my mom had stopped trying to keep up with Hollywood gossip long ago. But there are two scenes that will forever be tied to my memories of entertainment news, and the debate over how badly we should feel about Hollywood’s A-listers.
In one, Anna and her love interest, William (Grant), are out to dinner while a rowdy group of men a few tables over are discussing the former’s latest release. The conversation quickly turns from genuinely critical to mean-spirited, with the conversation largely centered around her body. William tries to defend her, without making them aware that he’s with Anna, but it fails, and they tell him that their comments don’t matter, as Anna can’t hear them anyway. But then Anna gets up and mocks them, clearly upset but firm in her convictions. It’s a funny scene, yes—the sort of moment that has appeared in countless comedies over the years, mainly because it works as a funny concept. But there’s something about the way Roberts plays it that makes the whole thing feel cathartic, as if she is telling every single man, woman, gossip columnist, or online troll to ever mock her that words hurt, but she’s the bigger person in the end. It’s a moment I constantly think about whenever I come across a negative conversation about celebrities.
But the other memorable moment from the film is crucial to the movie’s thesis statement, and one I point to whenever someone dismisses a celebrity’s problem. In it, Anna meets William’s group of friends, all of whom are working class. They play a game: each person has to say what their biggest problem is, and the person with the hardest life gets the last slice of pie at dinner. Now, these are people with genuine problems: trouble at work, traumatic breakups, parenting woes, etc. One of William’s friends was even recently paralyzed in a car accident. Anna delivers a monologue about how lonely her life is, and how harsh and critical the public’s words can be. It’s a total Oscar reel moment for Roberts and, to date, one of my favorite acting beats of her whole career. At the end of her speech, the friends get quiet, acknowledging her hard life—and then, with a polite laugh, ultimately award the slice of pie to another member of the group.
This scene holds a valuable lesson. Yes, celebrities are living privileged lives. They have more money that others will ever see in their lives. But the truth is that everybody has problems, and while someone may have it “easier” than you, no one person truly has it easy. It’s an important life lesson in general, but one that I think is particularly important when talking about celebrities. They’re people with problems, and just because they’re in our movies, on our TV, and splashed across the front page of our magazines, we don’t have the right to talk about them as if they’re characters in a story.
In the 20 years since Notting Hill was released, celebrity culture has changed completely. The mere number of channels from which content can be produced has fundamentally altered the way that celebrities are created, making it very possible that people can be known by millions and, simultaneously, completely unrecognizable by masses of people. It’s not quite the same as 1999; there are famous people, but there aren’t any Julia Robertses: people so famous that even five years olds with only hints of pop culture awareness know their names. Hell, Julia Roberts isn’t even Julia Roberts anymore, as she’s gone from making blockbusters to frequently choosing dark, challenging, and offbeat films (a path I love).
But, in Notting Hill, Roberts taps into something that only a true movie star can do. Her mere presence in a movie creates an expectation in the audience, based on how they remember her from the iconic movies she’s already appeared in. But she breaks down every single expectation the audience has, stripping her character of that movie star facade until, at the end, we truly do buy that she’s “just a girl, standing in front of a boy,” and the entire audience, too.
I can’t think of another actor working today that would have that same power, to be so universally known, but also know how to dismantle that persona onscreen. I do know, however, that Notting Hill‘s message is just as relevant today as it was in 1999, if not more so. In this age of message boards, comment sections, Twitter replies, and photo leaks on Reddit, we need a reminder that celebrities are, in fact, people. And if we’re critiquing their life, leaking their private moments, or just being cruel in general, we probably deserve to be told off by Julia Roberts, too.
