Chapter 1: The Essence of Notting Hill

Let's engage in a little thought exercise. If you're familiar with the film Notting Hill (1999), how would you summarize its plot? Take a moment to ponder that, and then read on.

Notting Hill debuted 25 years ago, quickly becoming a favorite among both audiences and critics. Its success can partly be attributed to its release alongside Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, which helped it achieve impressive box office numbers, especially for a romantic comedy. Richard Curtis, the screenwriter, had previously created Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994), another hit that also featured Hugh Grant as the protagonist, Will Thacker. Both films showcase an American female lead who shakes up the ordinary life of a reserved Englishman; in Four Weddings, it was Andie MacDowell as a free-spirited woman, while Notting Hill starred Julia Roberts as the world-renowned actress Anna Scott.

While this background may seem excessive for a discussion on screenwriting, it highlights Curtis's talent for telling stories of restrained English men being liberated by lively American women—both starring Grant, who humorously noted that he essentially portrayed the same awkward character in both films.

If you were to ask industry professionals about the similarities between these films, you'd likely hear a response similar to mine.

However, here's the twist: they would all be mistaken.

Now, let's revisit that initial question: how would you define the story of Notting Hill?

In discussions with friends and filmmakers, responses varied. Screenwriters often offered a more balanced view of the characters' emotional motivations and arcs, yet they still echoed the common interpretation.

I won't presume to put words in your mouth, but I suspect your summary went something like this:

Notting Hill follows the journey of an ordinary guy who wins the love of a goddess—the most beautiful and famous actress in the world.

This is how the film was marketed, how the trailer frames the story, and what the poster conveys.

Yet, while this interpretation holds some truth—and I’m not disputing its validity—it doesn’t withstand deeper analysis. When examining each scene closely, it becomes clear that Notting Hill is about:

Notting Hill tells the story of a goddess yearning to escape her golden cage for something genuine, who falls for a mortal who could liberate her.

The narrative isn't truly centered around Will Thacker; it revolves around Anna Scott.

This may seem like a trivial distinction—after all, it’s a love story featuring two characters—but flipping this perspective reveals that the film's heart lies not with our relatable everyman, as it does in Four Weddings and a Funeral, but with a deeply flawed goddess who longs for the authentic experiences of mortal life yet struggles with the way mortals perceive her.

Will Thacker (Hugh Grant), the character we’re meant to relate to, doesn’t undergo any substantial character development beyond his desire for love following his wife's departure. In this sense, he embodies the shallow roles often assigned to female characters in romantic comedies, like Andie MacDowell's Carrie. His entire arc revolves around seeking validation through another's love. After watching the film numerous times, I find no substantial inner conflict within his character beyond his ongoing heartbreak.

In contrast, Anna Scott possesses a rich inner life that Julia Roberts brings to life with a nuanced performance. One wonders how much of Roberts’s own experiences as a long-time actress bleed into Anna's character. Anna grapples with the pressures and stereotypes of being a Hollywood star, having altered her appearance to fit a certain mold. She is continually objectified, especially after private photographs are leaked, and lives in a state of self-destructive shame that occasionally erupts into anger. Ultimately, she longs to be recognized for her true self, but doubts whether anyone would find her authentic self as captivating as the glamorous persona they see on screen.

This duality is poignantly illustrated in a scene following an intimate moment between Anna and Will, where she references Rita Hayworth’s words about how men would go to bed with "Gilda" but awaken with the real Rita. Anna then anxiously asks Will how he feels after having been with her.

Because Anna needs Will to love her true self.

What does it mean to reframe your understanding of Notting Hill? The primary benefit is gaining insight into why the film resonates so strongly. Given Will's minimal character growth and the reliance on Hugh Grant's performance rather than the screenplay itself, it becomes apparent that Anna Scott's journey is crucial to the film's emotional impact. We all yearn to fall for something extraordinary, a sentiment that fuels our fascination with celebrities, but without Anna's emotional evolution, the film would have fallen flat in cultural significance.

She is the character we follow, the one we empathize with most, whose transformation leaves us feeling changed as well.

A pivotal scene in the film illustrates this perfectly. In fact, it may be the film's most significant moment, despite my affection for the "I'm just a girl" monologue. This scene unfolds shortly after the first act's turning point and marks a crucial shift in perspective.

Up to this point, the narrative has been filtered through Will's perspective—the average guy who has fortuitously encountered the divine. The reason for Anna’s continued interest in him remains ambiguous; we can only speculate that his clumsiness captivates her. However, when she attends his sister's birthday dinner, everything shifts due to Roger Michell's remarkably subtle direction.

The story transitions to Anna's viewpoint.

From the moment they arrive at the dinner party, we experience every moment from her perspective, except for one. This dinner isn't merely a date; it's a trial. Anna, the goddess, has descended from her lofty realm to mingle with mere mortals. She views Will as potentially too good to be true; his sincerity and kindness seem suspect. In this setting, she intends to uncover his true nature.

Let’s examine the well-known "last brownie scene." Before we delve deeper, take a moment to watch it.

Back? Perfect. This clip opens just before the pivotal moment. As you can see, Anna's experience during dinner takes center stage. Michell's direction highlights that this dinner serves as a test—not just of Will, but of his friends who inhabit his world. How will they treat the goddess? If she chooses to remain, will they elevate her status or allow her to reveal her true self?

Indeed, she unveils her reality. To claim the last brownie, she shares her own struggles: her lack of talent, abusive past relationships, and the various surgeries she underwent to achieve her appearance. She holds nothing back. How will they respond?

They mock her, just as they had all night. They dismiss her "pathetic" attempt to claim the brownie, passing it to Will instead. The implication is clear: if Anna stays, she will never transcend being "one of them." She will always be simply Anna, not Anna Scott, the movie star.

However, let's rewind to 01:57 in this clip. Observe as Bella, portrayed by Gina McKee, expresses her own feelings of inadequacy over the brownie. We soon learn that Bella, a paraplegic, and her husband just discovered they cannot have biological children. This heart-wrenching revelation is delivered with such emotional depth by McKee.

Now, pay attention to the next cut after Bella says, "Well, the truth is, we can't have a baby."

The camera shifts, not to her friends or husband, but to Anna, capturing her reaction.

Where does she direct her gaze next? At Will—to gauge his response to this devastating news.

This moment serves as Will's ultimate test, even if he’s unaware. Will he respond with genuine empathy? How will he react? Will he become the man Anna desperately needs for her salvation?

Will, of course, is visibly affected. He then—this is crucial—takes on the role of a sacrificial figure to spare Bella from feeling like the most pitiable person at the table. He willingly exposes his own vulnerabilities to uplift her.

It's... simply stunning. This scene is, in my view, exemplary. I encourage you to study it closely. Notice every edit and how they guide your emotions and perceptions.

At the end of the day, perhaps you already understood all this. Maybe you didn’t, and I’ve just opened your eyes. Maybe you’ll hit like now, and when you watch another film, you'll notice new layers in the storytelling. Perhaps you’ll revisit Notting Hill tonight and remember my persistent advocacy for it—this film stands as one of the greatest romantic comedies ever made, and I genuinely wish they still produced films of its caliber.

Read Richard Curtis's screenplay for Notting Hill here.

For more in-depth film analyses, check out my articles on Counter Arts: "What About 'The Sixth Sense's' Other Twist?", "'Ghost' Is a Great Example of How We Collectively Misremember Some Films," and "Christopher Nolan's 'Oppenheimer' Script Blows Up All the Rules."

To hear more of my thoughts on storytelling and the arts, subscribe to my Medium account or sign up for my free arts-focused Substack newsletter, 5AM StoryTalk.

Chapter 2: The Last Brownie Scene Unpacked

The first video, "Who Deserves The Last Brownie? | Notting Hill | Screen Bites," dives into the significance of the brownie scene, examining the dynamics between the characters and the emotional stakes at play.

Chapter 3: The Emotional Depth of the Dinner Scene

In the second video, "And the Last Brownie Goes To? - Notting Hill | RomComs," the analysis explores how this scene encapsulates broader themes of vulnerability and acceptance within relationships.