Bridget Jones: Mad About The Boy | Comedy Review
HECKLED With Jokes
Now I think we can all admit we’ve been a bit concerned with Renée Zellweger and her relationship to plastic surgery in recent years. The phrase “The female Mickey Rourke” comes to mind. Although the phrase “female Mickey Rourke” could equally be applied to Mickey Rourke at this stage. It’s very hard to distinguish.
So it was very reassuring to see that Renee’s face seems to have rejoined the human species just in time for her to star in Bridget Jones: Mad About The Boy. The days of treating herself to Vladimir Putin levels of botox seem to be behind her and she’s back to the Renee of old, except she’s even more old.
Still it’s great to see a woman of a certain age back on screen because as we all know in the harsh reality of Hollywood, female actors in their mid-fifties are considered in showbusiness years to be clinically dead. Yes, she’s reached that age that has its own unique category on PornHub. Although personally I still find her highly attractive and charming. Age is just a number and after you dim the lights is there really that much of a difference?, Don’t be shallow, Gentlemen. And if you have to, Like previous generations before you, just use alcohol to help you get through it.
Now for a bit of back story. In an earlier Bridget Jones installment her affections were being fought over by Mark Darcy, a high-flying human rights lawyer, and Jack Kwant, a billionaire mathematician. You know, the kind of situation that is pretty much an everyday occurence for a reasonably attractive woman in her mid-forties. Anyways Mark was the lucky fella who won her hand in marriage and they lived in blissful harmony right up until Mark was killed fighting for human rights in the Sudan which for upper middle class people in London would place him several notches above Jesus Christ. After all, say what you will about Jesus Christ, there’s very little chance he was privately educated. In fact this might explain some of his, quite frankly, vulgar behaviour. If you are going to comport with prostitutes, don't announce it to the world. Just take frequent “business” trips to eastern Europe like the rest of us.
So Bridget being widowed means that Colin Firth who plays Mr. Darcy appears only fleetingly in flashbacks in the film and this for me was THE highlight of the entire production. I’m joking, I’ve loved watching Colin Firth duplicate the same constipated, snooty, irritable character throughout his entire cinematic career in every film he’s ever appeared in without any deviation whatsoever. But for you Firth fans out there, he does appear long enough to give us that wearied smile that gives off the impression that a slug is crawling up his trouser leg. I was thinking, Mr Darcy was a human rights lawyer as was Keir Starmer, the current UK Prime Minister. So in a way Colin Firth is playing Keir Starmer. Can you think of a more lovable combination? Perhaps Jeffrey Dahmer playing Vlad The Impaler.
Luckily Hugh Grant swoops in to rescue the shaky foundations of the posh, baby boomer English actor by delivering a highly engaging performance as Daniel, a cuddly, adorable sociopathic sex addict with severe attachment issues. I’ve always been a fan of Hugh ever since he gave us one of the greatest images in human history. His mugshot after being arrested for soliciting oral gratification from Divine Brown, a delectable lady of the evening. As we all know Divine Brown went on to release a hip hop album and is credited as the originator of Mumble Rap as most of her rhymes were performed with her mouth full.
Now thankfully, Renee is able to pull off an accomplished English accent. I say thankfully because there are three things that English people vehemently despise; any time spent NOT queueing, the word aluminum and Americans doing a bad English accent. That makes them froth at the nostrils. Many are still traumatised from Dick Van Dyke’s efforts more than sixty years ago in that little known pornographic film he appeared in, Hairy Poppins. The Welsh, Irish and Scottish also dislike bad interpretations of their celtic brogues but in reality they’re usually all too drunk to notice the difference. Ask Mel Gibson.
As mentioned previously Bridget is a lonely widow and I think it’s easy enough to feel compassion for her predicament. After all, who doesn’t have empathy and love for womankind? Women are our mothers, sisters and daughters or, previously, in some cases, our fathers, brothers and sons. But I should warn those of you cinema-goers who live in London that watching an upper middle class tv producer swanning around her mansion in Hampstead feeling sorry for herself knowing that after the film you’ll have to go back to a discarded dumpster with a corrugated iron roof that you rent for 75% of your monthly salary might not be as heart wrenching as one might imagine.
Back to the story. After four years of widowhood Bridget is encouraged by her friends to look for romance and as luck would have it she finds it when she’s rescued from a tree in Hampstead Heath by a very young and very hunky blonde park ranger who exudes a sexy and saucy Hitler Youth vibe. Once again, the film is more like a documentary than a work of fiction because of the realistic situations it portrays. She then embarks on a tempestuous bout of lovemaking with the callow Aryan stud which is all laid out in technicolour glory for us all to enjoy. Although I did have to seek treatment for damage to my cringing gland. Don’t get me wrong young men are attracted to older women and older women are attracted to younger men. I know when I was on the dating apps I was constantly matching with ladies in nursing homes. Although if we did meet up privacy was always an issue. Luckily care-worker salaries are so low that they were very open to bribery and when money was exchanged and they closed the curtains around us, I and my silver fox were free to explore everything we could think of in what little time she had left.
I think a major theme in the film is that modern dating can be absolutely hellish and we’ve all heard harrowing anecdotes, I’m sure. I know one chap who became so desperate for companionship that he had to resort to looking out of his own species. But you know something, Dolly and I, I mean him, are actually very happy. She provides him with the affection and physical release he needs and he provides her with high quality grass and other pasture plants.
Now I liked this film. It has good jokes and Bridget has charm but it does tend to perpetuate the myth that London is completely populated by smug privately educated members of the upper middle classes. But that’s not the London that most of us know, no, that's the London of the people who get to make and act in films about London, smug privately educated members of the upper middle classes. Not that I have a chip on my shoulder or anything, no I’d describe it as more of a potato farm.
But even these people I think would have to admit that London has slightly changed since the previous Bridget Jones outing. For example, during the production of the film three members of the catering staff, whilst laying out cucumber sandwiches on the craft table, were hacked to death in a frenzied machete attack by a red-headed key grip from Devon who had recently converted and joined Al shabab, an affiliate of Al Qaeda in the Horn Of Africa. Also, one of the casting directors joined the AZOV battalion in the Russian-Ukrainian war where she remains today and Hugh Bonneville, while never appearing in any of the films is thought of being very Bridget Jones adjacent, has come out as not voting Liberal-Democrat in the last election and for this was summarily banned from any involvement in any upcoming Paddington Bear sequels and placed on an MI6 watchlist. He is currently on hunger strike and refusing to eat marmalade.