I made a list of 200 movies I've never seen before, and now I'm watching them all in alphabetical order. Check out the full list of movies HERE, and enjoy as I try to parse through the next one below.
Bridget Jones's Diary
2001
I read a tweet a couple weeks ago that basically said something like: "I would rather read something that an expert at something wrote than read something from someone who experiencing that thing for the first time." That one hit me hard, because not only do I agree that I prefer the former, but also PoYB traffics in almost exclusively the latter. Every single long-term project on here, whether it's the movie columns, Record Club, beer-a-day, whatever, all of them are written by someone (me) who freely professes that he doesn't really know too much about that particular subject. The desire to learn is there, of course, but then most of what is written ends up commenting on the process more so than the subject itself.
So, enter Bridget Jones's Diary, I guess. If you've read even half of the dribble I've cranked out at alarming speed this year, then you can probably guess the angle at which I will be tackling this essay. It'll be something like "I'm not too familiar with too many romantic comedies, but regardless I watched one and this is how it made me feel!!" right? Of course. I do it that way because that's easier. It's easier than actually doing the hard work. Any self-respecting blogger would watch Bridget Jones's Diary, and then watch fifteen additional romantic comedies before writing anything about Bridget Jones's Diary. Ya know, try to become within spitting distance of being an "expert" on the subject. Present a knowledgeable take. Instead, I will be lazy, and I will throw my hands up in the air and accept defeat and turn the spotlight back to me, and how my own shortcomings in the art of discourse and criticism, as if that's anything anyone wants to read.
I mean, I could go on—how I feel like I do this every time one of my columns catches me at a bad moment, how the meta-acknowledgment of the fact that this doesn't make for a pretty read doesn't make it any easier for the audience to swallow, how it probably says a lot about me that it's easier to write about my own failings than about a fun little movie's successes—but let's get to it, shall we? Can we, please?
Actually, that last point might be relevant by accident. Yes, it's easy to write about my own shortcomings, but maybe that is a trait that I share with this film's protagonist, the titular Bridget Jones. At the age of 32 (oh boy), Jones comes to the realization that self-improvement can be achieved by archiving one's faults and by attacking them one at a time. So she starts a diary, documenting her attempts at change, including tallying her daily alcohol consumption (oh boy). It's a form of therapy—get all your ugly thoughts out in print, and maybe you can view them in a different light and use that to find some ability to metamorphosize.
Being a romantic comedy, of course there is some romance involved. Well, not just some. It's basically all romance, a fact that is acknowledged in the opening voice-over. Will Bridget choose the rambunctiously charming ne'er-do-well or the serious, unassuming dark horse? Her attempts at self-improvement are seen through her interactions with the men in her life. As far as I know, this is pretty par for the course as far as romantic comedies go, the whole "who is the right partner for me?" thing, and I think this whole aspect of the film is much less interesting than Bridget's struggles to self-analyze (especially because, let's be real, neither of these guys are particularly "perfect" for Bridget).
This movie, and all romantic comedies of its ilk, frustrate the fuck out of me mainly because I just want people to be happy, generally. And when a movie character like Bridget Jones is not happy due to her fault or others', then I become unhappy as well. Which I realize is the point, and which also means that I'm invested to a degree, and that's a good thing. Even though I'm sitting here yelling at the screen like "This dude is clearly a scumbag!" or "Why don't you just tell him how you feel?!", I still just want the best for these characters, and that means that the movie is successful enough that it was able to rope even a skeptical shitbug like me into its web.
So yeah, either by seeing a version of myself in Bridget Jones or simply by virtue of this being a movie that casts its protagonist in a sympathetic light, I felt like Jones was not served well by either dude she was trying to bone. Hugh Grant's character is, of course, a slimy womanizer, but Colin Firth's character is also kinda dumb—dude, just tell Bridget that you were the cuckold in your previous relationship, stop unnecessarily creating tension between you and her! No, I much more would have preferred Bridget to come to the conclusion that the relationship she has with herself is more important than one with any other jabroni out there.
As always, we must acknowledge that my recognition of a great character might come from a great performance as well. Say what you will about Renée Zellweger (especially if the last movie you saw her in was Bee Movie), but she fucking brings it in the role of Bridget Jones. She is plays just the right notes for this surprisingly tricky character, balancing deftly both the clumsy/obnoxious side of Bridget and the empathetic side. Like, yeah, she fucks up pretty often, but Zellweger plays it so that you want her to succeed anyway.
I can only imagine that other romantic comedies out there do it better, and others do it worse. And as far as how this compares to film in general (e.g. how's the mise-en-scène?), then you already know that I am woefully inadequate. But if we're talking about how a movie treats its own characters, then that's something I can talk about confidently. Bridget Jones's Diary both succeeds in getting you to care for Bridget Jones, and fails in that it inadequately rewards the character with the happiness she deserves. I can speak about human agency and self-worth and relationships because I myself am human. And even if I can't speak to the filmmaking particulars, I can at least speak on this.
There might be a day in the distant future when I can judiciously place a movie like this in the pantheon of film history. Today is not that day. I'm not an expert! I know that makes these short discussions petty and useless! But it's all I can do for now! I am sorry! I will write about it in my diary this evening don't worry!
GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5
NEXT TIME: We watch Brief Encounter, which is definitely directed by David Lean (like The Bridge on the River Kwai), and might be some form of romantic comedy (like Bridget Jones's Diary), so who knows, maybe in watching it we'll find an unlikely amalgam of the last two movies we've watched.
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