BUY, BUY BABY
BABY GOOD BUY!
Terri White | The Big Issue – September 12, 2016
In 2016 Bridget Jones would be a regular Big Issue buyer. We have the
proof. But what does this tell us about Bridget – and The Big Issue?
Terri White, a fan of the new movie and editor-in-chief of Empire
magazine, explains.
Bridget Jones has faced many claims over the years: anti-feminist,
anti-nice-guys, flaky, promiscuous, neurotic, fat, thin, clumsy,
awkward, smoker, drinker, drama queen. But she is, improbably for a
character played by a full-blooded Texan, irrepressibly, unashamedly,
quintessentially, beautifully British. She is in so many respects what
we recognise, what we are, what we sometimes don’t want to be and
sometimes just what we do want to be.
So the news that Bridget, our Bridget, was filmed buying a copy of The
Big Issue from a vendor outside of her flat in Borough, South London
– which presumably she would then add to the stockpile creaking and
tilting by her couch, collected over years – didn’t surprise us at
all. It was, in fact, a stroke of genius by filmmakers for what it
revealed about her, but also, about
us.
So what can’t be denied is that Bridget has always had a distinct
charm and secure place of affection in our hearts. She’s not just got
egg on her face, but yolk in her ear and shell in her fringe (which she
cut herself with bacon scissors). She falls, she stumbles, she fumbles
and she bumbles. She chooses the inappropriate guy, makes errors in the
(clearly) wrong career, drinks too much vodka (on a Monday), eats too
many pies (according to her own self-critical inner monologue) wears bad
clothes her mother forces on her, says “fuck” when she really really
shouldn’t and quite often has the wrong kind of sex with the wrong
kind of people.
But, what many have often missed about Bridge, and the new film Bridget
Jones’s Baby makes abundantly clear, is that she has also always
always been kind and warm-hearted and generous and good. Yes, she has
moments of narcissism and self-involvement (hey, none of us are
perfect), but her care extends beyond the world she’s standing in.
That said, that world has changed dramatically in the years since
Bridget was born (cinematically) 15 years ago. Since, we’ve survived
New Labour, a returning Conservative government, rode huge highs and
plummeted into lows. Arguably, the gap between “them” and “us”
has contracted and in some cases disappeared altogether. Bridget – and
her long chequered career history, still empty fridge and yep, sparse
flat – represents the uncomfortable fact that we are all one turn of
bad luck, one career-ending error, one incident, away from – if not
ending up on the streets – no longer able to afford our rent or our
life as we know it. We are, in 2016, more than ever, in this together.
We know friends, we know neighbours, we know family members who are
living month to month. We are surrounded by the recognition of the
slippery situation we live in, where the scales can tip and fall at
whim.
The selfishness much of us spent the Noughties in – including Bridget
– ordering increasingly expensive glasses of tart wine and renting
flats with brighter and brighter brushed steel has dulled in this new
reality. Not only does Bridget Jones and Bridget
Jones’s Baby live in this new world, but also she herself has a
new life to boot. She is 40-something, she is pregnant, she has no
stable partner and, at times, an unstable job. You see her focus shift
from the narrow view of her existence to one where she blinks outwards
at a society she is now fully a part of, that she now needs to be part
of. You witness the dawning social responsibility settle on her
shoulders: she, we, have to make the world an OK place not just for us
but for the next generation to hopefully parachute, not crawl, into.
There is, when you think about it, no greater shorthand for our changing
country and our new sense of individual responsibility than the sight of
one of our most-loved characters – one who has previously been accused
of being concerned with personal gain – handing over £2.50 for a copy
of The Big Issue. It’s that
sign that says, I want to help someone else and by turn, myself and all
of us.
And in that act – whether it landed on the edit room floor or not –
Bridget reminds us of, well, us. Yes, us at our worst, us at our most
shambolic, but ultimately us at our very best. We too are the people who
will stop in the street, look The Big Issue seller in the eye, offer a smile, and recognise the
importance of helping someone else less fortunate to help themselves.
As, not only could it make them the best version of themselves but us
the best version of ours. That is what makes us great, Great Britain.
Even those of us that are Texans.
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