Lame, lame, LAME!!!

Rating: Null/10 (26 November 2001)

What people see in this utter waste of time, I will never know, or want to know. The only worthwhile thing in this film is Bridget's opera-diva number, where she sings alone to a Celine Dion(?) number. But since that happens during the opening credits, it sets a bad precedent for the rest of the film. Let's see...Bridget Jones is a vulgar alcoholic with an inferiority complex with a fixation on the wrong kind of man(seriously, do we have to buy this fiction that Hugh Grant is what women want?), turning herself into badly-used goods before our very eyes and she STILL wants our sympathy? To all women seeing her as a role model, I say GROW THE HELL UP!!! What kind of world are we living in that a man is expected to love a living train wreck like Bridget instead of a REAL woman who has it together and is able to express love for the right kind of man...for once? A waste of time, and a waste of money. I am only glad I didn't read the book, and that after two hours, this rape of my sensibilities was over, and that I never have to be subjected to it again. A 2 out of 10.