RATING
Director(s): Michael Morris
Country: France, United Kingdom, United States
Author: Helen Fielding, Dan Mazer, Abi Morgan
Actor(s): Renée Zellwege, rChiwetel Ejiofor, Leo Woodall
Written by Tom Augustine.
One of the great mysteries of modern cinema is the seemingly alchemical process by which Renée Zellweger, the statuesque American actress well-known for her aura of aloof and guarded inaccessibility, transforms into the iconic Bridget Jones, a character defined by her ‘normalcy’ (even if the original’s decrying of the character’s supposed heaviness is positively laughable by today’s thankfully more accepting standards). An everywoman romantic hero, the first Bridget Jones’s Diary gleefully intertwined the everyday miseries and routine humiliations of the modern woman expected to have it all and be it all, with the giddy high romance of Jane Austen novels — right down to a male lead named Mr Darcy. The original Bridget Jones remains a winner, a refreshing (and refreshingly cheeky) ode to the modern, gloriously flawed woman utterly deserving of swooning romance despite the imperfections implied by a society still coming to terms with the concept of women’s lib decades on from the Sixties. It remains cringingly hilarious, slipping into a sweet spot of relatability that doesn’t overplay its hand toward the saccharine. It also slots nicely into, and shares stars with, the British romcom boom of the 90s and 2000s, those Hugh Grant-heavy Christmas standards like Love Actually, Notting Hill, Four Weddings and a Funeral and The Holiday. Many of these films are deceptively well made (let’s not forget that Four Weddings competed for the Best Picture Oscar in 1994), generally striking an ideal balance of wish-fulfilment sugar highs and slyly cutting humour that ensures they go down smooth. Bridget Jones is unique amongst these because it is a series — Mad About the Boy, the latest film, is in fact the fourth, arriving long after the boom has come and gone.
That Bridget Jones stands alone in having sequels offers the series both opportunities and shortcomings in previous instalments, the natural charm and energy of the first has felt more and more forced, more prone to wheel-spinning and seen-it-all-before semi-comic setups. If that sounds a little high-minded for these frothy romcoms, I am aware that the art of said subgenre is almost always rooted in formula—but the series itself is a testament to how tricky that formula can be to get right. Thankfully, Mad About the Boy comes far closer than the troubled The Edge of Reason and the forgettable Bridget Jones’ Baby to getting those measurements just right, representing the highest peak for the series since its original conception. Virtually nothing within Mad About the Boy is surprising beyond the first ten minutes, in which it is revealed that Colin Firth’s dashing Mr Darcy has died four years prior, seen only as a memory here. This means that the pleasure of Mad About the Boy is the expectation that these notes will be hit, and the hope that director Michael Morris can pull off the delicate balance of sentiment and meaningful drama that flecks this older, soberer Bridget as she struggles to realign with the world.
The fourth instalment of the beloved everywoman series that helped make Renée Zellweger a star is the closest we’ve come to recapturing the magic of the initial outing. A syrupy-sweet but delicately managed concoction, it’s a crowd-pleaser that makes up for a lack of surprise in well-oiled execution.
Zellweger’s Bridget, now somewhere in middle age, has two children to raise alone, and both her romantic and professional life lie in the mires of dormancy. Recalling a conversation with her late, beloved father (Jim Broadbent, in one of the film’s many brief, worthwhile cameos) to ‘really live’, Bridget begins a new diary, and asserts that a new chapter will begin too, to the strains of David Bowie’s “Modern Love”. Soon, Bridget finds herself lured back to work as a television producer, while butting heads with her kids’ severe-yet-dashing science teacher Mr Wallaker (Chiwetel Ejiofor). More pressing is the emerging romance she’s exploring with the sexy, far-younger park ranger Roxster (yes, that is really his name), played by a ripped and baby faced Leo Woodall. The subtext and humour of Bridget Jones has always been about managing the life demands of a working woman with the self-imposed and societal expectations to be the blushing, demure, Elizabeth Bennett-esque romantic heroine, with the joyous surprise of the original being the implication that a happy medium is entirely possible. Mad About the Boy hits that same sweet spot, even as it rehashes similar plot beats to the original in spades. What gives Mad About the Boy that extra bit of juice is the additional poignancy of time and experience, and the hovering spectre of age. Believe it or not, Bridget, and Bridget, have matured.
Those averse to the particular brand of sweet that this kind of film trades in will already know to stay well away. For those of us who are susceptible, Mad About the Boy abounds with pleasures. Most of these are derived from a fantastic cast, with faces old and new applying themselves to elevate the material. Best of these, naturally, is Hugh Grant, whose Daniel Cleaver is given a brief but deeply rewarding arc that manages to both honour his horndog past and embrace his growing position as an elder statesman. Grant’s effortless charm feels like a bolt of energy from the very opening of the film, and he’s deployed sparingly but cleverly to ensure the character never feels like a footnote. Also exceptional is Ejiofor—as one of two major romantic leads in the film, the grave-faced thespian reveals shades of hunkiness and deep wells of charm that serve as one of the great surprises of Mad About the Boy. For those who know the underappreciated Ejiofor as the weathered and brutalised Solomon of Twelve Years A Slave, it is a welcoming breath of fresh air. Popping up in short-lived but incredibly welcome scenes are Emma Thompson as Bridget’s long-suffering gynaecologist/life coach, who gets many of the film’s best gags; while Bridget’s returning trio of old friends played by Sally Phillips, Shirley Henderson and James Callis are one of the more moving throughlines from the series very first outing. Then there’s Zellweger, who once again breathes life into her greatest and most enduring character, proving she’s still up for broad comic beats and gentle moments of sadness. The interweaving of Darcy’s legacy, helped along by brief appearances from Firth, lend this frothy confection a genuine undercurrent of emotional heft that feels elegiac. Perhaps what is best about Mad About the Boy is that it feels old-fashioned, in the sense that it is well-made—it doesn’t carry the burden of cheap ironic self-detachment that so many of its imitators feel the need to layer in ad nauseum. Bridget Jones is earnest and unashamed about that fact—and if this is the last we are to see of Bridget Jones, she’s gone out on one hell of a high. See it in a packed cinema with a gaggle of girlfriends, if you can.
Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy is in cinemas now.