A contradiction in itself *Spoilers*

Rating: Null/10 (7 February 2002)

Lately, and I hope I am not alone in this, I have felt that I have stepped into a parallel universe, one in which I am isolated, out of step with all people and places around me, and in which I start to doubt my very existence as a human being. Rather like the plot of a Robert Zemeckis movie, you might say.
It is from that state of mind that I commence my review of "Bridget Jones's Diary". Judging by the reviews both critical and user, and box office returns, a lot of people have liked this movie. Why?
The premise of the movie and its plot is a contradiction in itself. Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger) cannot get a man. She wants one. Life as a "singleton" is intolerable. However, she actually can get a man, by commencing an affair with Daniel (Mr. Divine himself, Hugh Grant). Nonetheless, he is simultaneously cheating on Renee - oops, sorry, Bridget - with Lara (Lisa B in the film's only half-decent performance).

Alongside this affair, she is pursued by the supposedly hunky lawyer Mark Darcy (Colin Firth in a walking woodplank performance that makes Freddie Prinze Jr. look like Gary Oldman). In a hoky plot device (done to good effect in the recent 'Serendipity') Darcy miraculously starts appearing everywhere Bridget goes, although he also is simultaneously seeing the bitchy and interesting Natasha (Embeth Davidtz). Now, sorry to be personal, but I myself am a lawyer, and have met many walking woodplanks in my time, and I can assure you that not one of them would even be remotely interested in BJ when a toffee nosed richbitch such as Natasha is available. Trust me - they just wouldn't. And herein lies the film's dilemma. It is so afraid of facing the horrible universal truth that good looking men, whether vacant or intelligent, just aren't interested in overweight, plain, cash strapped women. And so the script abandons its interesting premise and narrative coherence goes straight out the window, culminating in a hideously ridiculous punchup between Daniel and Darcy in the street over Bridget. All to the rousing strains of Geri Halliwell.
However, the script also fails to recognise another universal truth that women have kept secret for centuries, and would have turned this into a decent film had the script had the wit and the balls to incorporate it. That is, discerning women know that less physically attractive men make the best lovers. So, 'Bridget Jones's Diary' could have been infinitely more interesting, romantic and truthful had the filmmakers introduce a character actor such as Paul Sorvino or James Gandolfini, have Bridget give up on the pretty boys, and have the happy couple engage in the hottest, most intense and mindblowing sex ever until the end of time.
Gandolfini and Zellweger getting it on? Now THAT'S a movie I'd pay in to see.