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What's the score on Bridget Jones?
Bridget isn’t a role model; she’s an archetype. We are her and she is us. She’s a plucky singleton, struggling with her career, her vices, her choices and her self-esteem. She’d like a nice boyfriend and a smaller bum. She’d like to be happy. And, er, that’s it. Not much, really, to build a phenomenon on.
But it is a very funny film. I don’t recall ever seeing a more charming and appealing actress in contemporary cinema than Renee Zellweger. She hogs the camera shamelessly, from the beginning of the film to the end (anyone worried by their aversion to Hugh Grant needn’t fret too much). What’s more, you know you are in for a treat right from the start, when Bridget/Renee is getting tanked at home alone, singing along to ‘All By Myself’, the singleton’s favourite sad song.
However, Bridget’s desperation for a man is a sorry archetype to accept without a fight. Two hundred years on, are we still doomed by a need for a Mr Darcy type to affirm our beauty and make us happy. The Mr Right for Bridget may be a bit of a prig, but he’s fantasy in all other respects: good looking and well heeled, with a house the size of Chiswick. How much more satisfying it would have been, if Bridget had dumped both the cad and the cold one, hopped on a plane and become a self-made millionairess designing big knickers for women like herself.
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