My recommendation for anyone to see the romantic comedy “Love Actually” is restricted by the notion that I don’t think it’s very romantic or consistently funny. Perhaps if there were less than 20 characters rummaging through the weightless plot, or better, if there were a reason for me to care about any of them, I would have probably loved it.

But what irritates me most about “Love Actually,” other than the annoying title, is the film misses the mark on its objective: It tries to take on many emotions, but one of the last feelings it tackles is love.

Hugh Grant, narrating, begins the film by saying love is everywhere: Why else would people in the planes that crashed into the World Trade Center call the people they loved rather than those they hated?

For this reason, among others, “Love Actually” begins with such a big heart, promoting the impression it’s a romantic comedy that concentrates on the romanticism and love shared by people.

A large array of people are then introduced: Those who are in, seeking or have lost love in their lives; or are these characters seeking lust? What is most funny about “Love Actually” is how not one person in it is actually in love with another.

Grant, playing the newly elected prime minister of England, chases the skirt of a vulgar subordinate, played by Martine McCutcheon. Alan Rickman, playing a married office crony, accepts sweet nothings from his secretary. Colin Firth, playing a writer, combats his feelings for a girl who can’t speak English. The list goes on, in a merry sea of clich‚s, with these characters never given an inclination the intense feelings they have are actually love.

What is interesting about an ensemble like “Love Actually” is finding how each character, directly or indirectly, knows each other.

Writer-director Richard Curtis makes the first half-hour of his film intriguing by briefly acknowledging the presence of each character existing in his or her own world.

This is where the most humorous moments happen, but also where a lot of the problems are rooted. Curtis takes time in introducing these characters, but then he forgets a majority of them. The rest of the film concentrates on only a few stories and sews them awkwardly back together in the end. The entire thing is a directorial mess, uneven in both pace and devotion to characters who matter.

The damning thing about it all is there are some storylines in “Love Actually” worth telling. Not to say they haven’t been told before, but one particular subplot comes to mind that I think should have been fleshed out.

Laura Linney, who decapitated the effect of “Mystic River,” plays Sarah, a woman who is desperately in love with a fellow office worker. Upon the request of her boss, she’s given a chance to make a move on her crush. In doing so, she easily gets the guy home. One thing leads to another, and just when things are getting hot and heavy, she gets a call from her troubled brother.

Subsequently, Sarah ditches her date to console her brother at a mental institution. After talking to him for a while, he throws a punch at her. After watching this portion of the movie, I kept asking myself questions the film never answered. Why is her brother under the care of someone else? Why did he almost hit her? Why is she so committed to him? Why are they, both American, living in London?

It would be forgivable if “Love Actually” didn’t completely tell its audience all about Sarah. After all, it has 19 other people to fill its time. But unfortunately, the film makes a habit out of introducing characters, telling the very least possible about them and leaving the door open for questions.

It’s fair to assume at two hours and 15 minutes that “Love Actually” bites off more than it can chew. The romanticism is all but erased. The comedy is, for the greater part of the movie, charming, on key and hilarious. But with too many characters, it offers as much exasperation as it does humor.