In what is essentially a very British, very White, very upper-middle class episode of The Maury Show, Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger) has to deal with the aftermath when a one-night stand with the hndsome, wealthy, yet chronically single Jack Qwant (Patrick Dempsey) and another with her wealthy, hardworking, yet also chronically single ex-boyfriend Mark Darcy (Colin Firth), ends up in a pregnancy where paternity is uncertain.
Bridget’s impulsiveness (her reason for sleeping with Jack) is painted as bumbling and adorable, never reckless and irresponsible (as it certainly would have been had her character been Black and/or poor), and her neediness and unrealistic expectations (the reason why her on and off again relationship with her ex never worked out) are painted as quirky and romantic.
The woman is average-looking, of average intelligence, has a career that’s going nowhere and which, in all honestly, anyone else would have been fired from years ago, and isn’t witty so much as incessantly talkative, but both these very wealthy men with other options are entirely smitten with her. Because Hollywood. Bridget Jones’s Diary is the quintessential fair tale for adults; Whit women, to be specific. This is the latest, and thankfully last, in an installment of films centering a character with poor decision skills, wavering loyalty, and very little accountability for her behaviour. Bridget Jones is supposed to represent the average (White) woman, but is really a portrait for complete and utter basic Beckery.
I give this one 2.75 stars.