Bridget Jones’s Baby, 2016.
Directed by Sharon Maguire.
Starring Renee Zellwegger, Colin Firth, Patrick Dempsey, Emma Thompson, Jim Broadbent, Sarah Solemani, Gemma Jones and Jim Broadbent.
SYNOPSIS:
Bridget’s focus on single life is interrupted when she finds out she’s pregnant, and she’s not sure who the father is.
Fifteen years ago the first Bridget Jones film was released, and the character quickly became an icon for singletons everywhere. Zellweger’s brilliant performance (and her superb English accent) instantly won over any people who doubted that the Texas-born actress could sufficiently portray a British icon. The film was a huge success, garnering an Oscar nomination for Zellweger, and furthering the popularity of co-stars Colin Firth and Hugh Grant as well. A sequel followed three years later which was basically a retread of the same story (“Hmm, is Darcy right for me? Ooh look, Daniel Cleaver! Wait, he’s not very nice. Oh Darcy, you truly are the one!”) and was much less likeable for it. Now, twelve years later, our heroine returns once again – still single, albeit thinner and with an iPad instead of a diary.
The film starts with Bridget spending her 43rd birthday alone, prompting her to go to a music festival with Miranda (Him & Her’s Sarah Solemani) the young presenter of the news show she produces, with the intention of getting a “damn good shafting”. She does indeed get that, from rugged American billionaire Jack (Patrick Dempsey) no less, and a week after that one-night stand she hooks up with old flame Mark Darcy (Colin Firth), who is getting divorced. She soon discovers she’s pregnant, and not being sure who the father is, she inadvertently begins dating both of them. While the film does have some fun with Bridget’s double-life – the scenes where Jack and Mark discover the truth about the situation are among the funniest in the film – but despite the return of director Sharon Maguire, it’s lost the spirit and charm of the original.
Even though this is the first Jones film without Richard Curtis writing the screenplay, the elements of a typical Curtis rom-com are all present and correct – a lush score from Craig Armstrong, cameos from lots of British comedy actors, and an on-the-nose pop song every two minutes. To my dismay, I also noticed the influence of the Apatow brand of comedy creeping in – sex-obsessed best friends, characters whose meanness is supposed to be funny, and a definite lack of structure in the screenplay. Like most modern comedies, this film is so screamingly desperate to be relevant and cool (not unlike a cardigan-wearing forty-something attending a music festival where she doesn’t even recognise the head-liner) that there’s a painful reference to something modern at least every five minutes. Tinder! Smartphones! Hipsters! Zorbing! Nutri-bullets!(?) The screenwriters of this film seem to mistake these references for actual jokes, much like how the writers of Sausage Party did with swearwords. This means that the funniest characters in the film, almost by default, are the ones who aren’t trying so hard – Colin Firth’s quiet dignity and deadpan delivery are wonderful to re-visit (he takes an otherwise grating reference to Gangnam Style and turns it into something hilarious), and Emma Thompson is funnier than she’s been in years in her role as Jones’s no-nonsense gynaecologist.
Although killing him off in the opening scene was a bold move, this film definitely suffers from a lack of Daniel Cleaver, Hugh Grant’s character from the first two films. You could tell, especially in the first film, that Grant relished the chance to play against type as a sleazy lothario, and there’s no real equivalent role in this film. Patrick Dempsey is perfectly nice as Jack, but apart from one scene where he, Bridget and Mark go to an antenatal class under the guise of a gay couple and their surrogate, he doesn’t get many laughs. Hardly any of the returning characters are used to their full potential – Bridget’s mum Pamela (Gemma Jones) gets a semi-amusing subplot about running for local office that could definitely have been milked for a few more scenes, her old boss (Neil Pearson) just sits on the sidelines with his ironic hipster moustache, and her old drinking buddies show up once or twice to make puppet-penis jokes and basically to remind us they’re still alive.
The problem with any sequel that takes place a decade after the last instalment is that it’s so much harder to recapture the spark and momentum. Case in point, American Pie 2 was rushed out so quickly after the first film, audiences were barely able to notice any time had passed – by the time American Reunion came out, the actors may have been older, but the difference between twenty-something and thirty-something actors wasn’t so jarring. The sad fact is, when film-makers try to recapture the magic with characters and actors that are now approaching middle-age (as they are in this film – flashbacks to the original remind us just how fresh-faced they were back in 2001) the results often end up being tired and forced. And it has to be said, whenever Zellweger tries to smile it’s very uncomfortable to see her facial muscles struggling against whatever work she’s had done – Bridget’s self-effacing smile whenever she was in an embarrassing situation was a big part of what initially made her so endearing. It’s actually a testament to how likeable she is that audiences are willing to forgive Bridget for all the truly stupid decisions she makes (she gets fired towards the end of the film, and you can help but wonder why she wasn’t sooner).
The final act may feature some glaring plot holes (Jack finds Bridget and Mark en route to the hospital, despite it being made clear that they’ve both lost their phones and are therefore unable to contact him), but it also contains the film’s funniest piece of physical comedy – Mark and Jack trying to get Bridget through the hospital’s revolving door by holding her up vertically. When Bridget finally gives birth, it’s in typical comedy fashion (begging for drugs, punching one of the men and biting the other) and although, thanks to poor piece of editing, the baby seems to dress itself between shots, it’s still a funny and touching sequence. The film ends as you would expect (come on, there was only one person whose baby it was ever going to be), and despite the film’s many faults, seeing Bridget finally become one of the ‘smug married couples’ she’s always been envious of is rather nice. If I were feeling generous I might have given this film three out of five, but the terrible decision to include a sequel-baiting tease of the possible return of Daniel Cleaver destroyed any goodwill that the final fifteen minutes had built up. I do so yearn for a great original romantic comedy to come along that doesn’t feel the constant need to remind us of the year we’re living in, and isn’t afraid to do something fresh and new with the genre – sadly, this film isn’t it.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★
Eric Bay-Andersen
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https://youtu.be/b7Ozs5mj5ao?list=PL18yMRIfoszEaHYNDTy5C-cH9Oa2gN5ng
