BRIDGET JONES' DIARY (2001)

Saturday night in, snow causing chaos on the streets outside, red wine flowing, my mind numbed by the trash that is ITV's Take Me Out to the point where any sort of decision could cause me to spontaneously combust so the easiest thing to do is just to leave the channel unchanged. And that is how I came to be watching Bridget Jones' Diary.



One of those literary phenomenons where every single person on any mode of transport seems to be reading the same book (other examples include Harry Potter, Stieg Larsson, The Da Vinci Code and The Time Traveller's Wife), Helen Fielding's memoir of a 32 year old singleton, desperate to improve herself and to meet the right man, seemed to grip women of all ages. A film adaptation was inevitable. Fielding stayed on writing credits with the assistance of British rom-com stalwart Richard Curtis. Dependable leading men Colin Firth and Hugh Grant came on board, with the slightly unusual, but safe, choice of Texan Renee Zellweger as the title character. Everything is in place.

Jones herself is a familiar character to all of us of a certain age. Early thirties, drinks a lot on school nights, smokes, dates the wrong men, in a job she doesn't really enjoy but does it to get by. No wonder it struck a chord with so many people, Fielding had tapped into a nation's frustrations and insecurities with Jones being a steady personification. She is bored of being set up with bad men by her mother (desperate to live her life vicariously through Jones), such as Mark Darcy (Colin Firth). She betrays her new years resolution to meet a nice sensible man, by shacking up with Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant), her womanising boss at the publishing company she works. Needless to say, as with all rom coms, things don't go as well as they might.

Now, I must lay down my marker. I'm not a rom-com fan. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Having said that, the Brits do it far better than our American cousins. Pretty Woman is the only decent one from across the pond that springs to mind, but I could easily watch Four Weddings, Notting Hill and About a Boy to pass the time. Bridget Jones just about manages to fall into that category.  But only just. There are one or two funny moments, it's predictable to a point, but it doesn't exactly conform to the usual plot points - Boy meets girl, girl falls for boy, girl and boy argue, boy and girl make up and live happily ever after. The characters are charming, their clumsy British eccentricities make you side with them.

However, I can't help feeling that it's all a bit fluffy, like scatter cushions, all for show.....all of the above Hugh Grant vehicles make me cry. This didn't come close. Even with the always excellent Jim Broadbent heading up the sub-plot geared to generate the tears.

It ticks the boxes though. Hugh Grant doing what he always does, but enjoying himself as the bad guy for a change, Colin Firth criminally underused and clearly going through the motions, only Zellweger looks as though she's really trying, and likeable she is for it. It's watchable enough, you don't get bored, but you also aren't really invested in it either.

I've not read the book, but I can't help but imagine that this is the adaptation equivalent of Watchmen - a decent job, but hollow and lacking the soul of the source material. Ultimately it should have been better. Having said that, lots of women I know are quite fond of the film, so it must have done something right. Not for me though.

Amusingly bland.