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Review by Steve Rhodes
2 stars out of 4
In the romantic comedy BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY, Renée Zellweger looks
absolutely awful as Bridget Jones. With a splotchy complexion, bulges
everywhere and stringy hair, Bridget eats, drinks and smokes too much. She
also dresses like a carpet. Badly miscast as the British heroine,
Zellweger, in a monotonic performance, never gives us much reason to care.
Although Bridget has a serious and supposedly hopeless crush on her boss,
Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant), Richard Curtis and Andrew Davies's script has
Bridget and Daniel quickly hopping into bed together. In the role of the
man clearly designed to be the only man to deserve her, Colin Firth plays
the dour lawyer Mark Darcy like a man with a constant case of intestinal
problems. In a one-dimensional part, Embeth Davidtz plays Natasha, Mark's
anal-retentive fellow lawyer and would-be fiancée.
Bridget, who writes in her diary in narration, is a 32 year old who worries
about dying a spinster and being eaten alive by dogs. (No such luck.) Her
television choices consist of things like the death scene from FATAL
ATTRACTION followed by a nature program on humping lions. In case we forget
how we're supposed to feel about Bridget's aspirations and emotions, the
film's heavy musical accompaniment is also there to remind us.
"Stay calm -- can't get worse," Bridget admonishes herself when she is
having yet another social disaster. I kept trying to remember that advice
while waiting for the ending credits to arrive.
BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY runs a long 1:35. It is rated R for language and some
strong sexuality and would be acceptable for most teenagers.
Copyright © 2001 Steve Rhodes
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