Posted: 04/27/2001

Bridget Jones’s Diary

(2001)

by E.T. Robbins

I picked up Helen Fielding’s international bestseller, Bridget Jones’s Diary, last summer. Let me set the scene for you: I had two ugly zits on my forehead. I was recovering from a broken heart. I couldn’t find a bathing suit to flatter any part of my imperfect body. I was, or so I thought, a blob taking up space. As I read Bridget Jones’s streams of consciousness, I realized that maybe, just maybe, other women felt as desperate as I did. Having been able to relate to Fielding’s title character, I wondered if I would be able to relate to the on-screen version. The answer is a resounding yes!

Bridget Jones’s Diary is not a chick flick (you might have to twist his arm, but he will enjoy himself). It’s a film that can and should be embraced by both genders. Women and men can relate to being single and the pressure that comes from well-meaning friends and family who are determined to find them the perfect mate. Society dictates the need for women to keep tabs on the proverbial biological clock. If you’re approaching thirty and don’t have a significant other, watch out! If you’re over thirty and you are still without a partner, prepare for evil words like “spinster” to be murmured in your presence.

Men will enjoy a few secrets that are revealed in the film. Why does it take the opposite sex hours to get dressed for a “big date” or at least a “big encounter?” As Bridget explains, a lot of thought goes into the donning of underwear (or “knickers” as she calls them). Should I put on the sexy lingerie in case we reach that pivotal moment? Or should I wear the granny undies that will help me suck it all in, thus aiding me in getting to the pivotal moment? The guffaws from the crowded movie theater (especially by the two thirty-something women sitting to my right) suggest that Bridget and I are not the only ones who vacillate over such decisions.

Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger) is a poster child for all the things we women worry about, contemplate, and hope for, but are too ashamed to say out loud. As a thirty-two-year-old “singleton,” Bridget decides to improve herself inside and out. She believes a diary will help to monitor her progress. When undertaking a project as daunting as losing weight, giving up cigarettes, forgoing alcohol, and finding an emotionally stable man, it’s possible to trip up along the way. This is the essence of the film—we don’t cheer as much when Bridget reaches her goals (which she rarely does), but rather we applaud this woman who can pick herself up in the face of disaster and start over again

Miramax has a winner—despite the fact that the title character is American, some liberties are taken with the screenplay, and director Sharon Maguire is making her feature film debut. Zellweger reportedly gained twenty pounds for the role and spent over nine months in London studying the accent and drinking in the culture. Although Zellweger is far from overweight (which is the point after all), her round face has a healthy, full appearance. Zellweger goes from wide-eyed innocent, to glowing lover, to devastated little girl sitting in the bathtub, to exuberant woman telling off her boss with ease—this is talent.

In the past I’ve considered Zellweger an accidental actor. Her career-catapulting role in Jerry Maguire was, in my estimation, mediocre at best. Distracted by her pouting lips and the lack of chemistry with Tom Cruise, I did not become an instant fan. I realize I am in the minority concerning her performance. Me, Myself, and Irene resulted in more talk about Zellweger’s new boyfriend (Jim Carrey—a relationship that has since ended) rather than her talent. In Nurse Betty she received good, solid reviews as did the cast and the film in general.

As Bridget Jones, Zellweger shines—her honest portrayal is never over the top (her lips are perfect, especially when smiling with smug attitude). Her pain and anxiety effectively reflects the doubt many women in their late twenties and early thirties have as society reinforces the myth that you need to be skinny in order to get a guy and you’re successful only if you’re married.

The film does deviate from Helen Fielding’s novel, but you will not be disappointed (Fielding had input on Richard Curtis’s and Andrew Davies’s screenplay). The addition of a scene between the office scoundrel Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant) and the unflappable Mark Darcy (Colin Firth) is welcome and adds depth to both characters. In Fielding’s novel we see everything from Bridget’s point of view. In the film we are able to see what motivates other characters—this insight is refreshing, tender, and makes the film more believable than certain portions of the book.

Director Sharon Maguire effectively captures Bridget’s thoughts—many times without Zellweger uttering a word. Bridget’s walks along London bridges, side streets, and through her cluttered apartment, strewn with empty wine bottles, give the film a true-to-life feel. Who hasn’t listened to “sad FM” when feeling down, singing the lyrics to a depressing song (in this case All By Myself), tears trickling down a cheek?

Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant—Notting Hill, Four Weddings And A Funeral) is Bridget’s boss at a publishing house. He is the man you want to hate—yet at the same time you can understand why “Jones,” as he calls her, falls for his good looks, roguish charm, and seductive personality.

I believe Colin Firth (Shakespeare In Love, The English Patient) is England’s best kept secret; this will change now that American women have gotten a good look at him. As Mark Darcy, his eyes do all the acting—he is the man you could live happily ever after with and have your mother’s approval. Still, he is at moments stuffy, almost dull. Our gut tells us he can’t be capable of the crime Daniel Cleaver accuses him of, but at the same time we want to give the adorable Cleaver the benefit of the doubt. That is until he inevitably breaks Bridget’s heart.

If you made the connection between Mark Darcy and a famous piece of English literature, bravo. Fielding herself has admitted she based Mark Darcy on the other Mark Darcy from Jane Austen’s classic Pride And Prejudice. Our Mark Darcy is quite proud, yet his heart is obviously moved by clumsy, bumbling Bridget. It takes him time to realize this and even longer for Bridget to accept it. The question is who will win her heart in the end? Can the daft Daniel Cleaver realize what he’s lost in Jones before Mark Darcy makes his move? This is where the movie deviates from the book. It works well and is even more believable than the hoops Fielding has Mark Darcy and Bridget Jones jumping through at the end of her novel.

The movie is fast paced, humorous, and touching without being maudlin. I guarantee that you will laugh out loud. Don’t be surprised if you want to see the film a second time (I did). Bridget fights for us and wins even though the win comes in typical Bridget Jones awkward fashion. That’s okay. We are left cheering in the aisles—not because of a happy ending, but rather because we can see ourselves in Bridget. Maybe there is hope for us after all.

E.T. Robbins is a freelance writer living in Boston, where she worked for a time at a local newspaper and at a local radio station.

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