'Bridget' is the reason

By Steve Persall, Times film critic

The last time we saw Bridget Jones, she was arm-in-arm with the love of her life and so warmed by that prospect that, even on a snowy day, she barely shivered while wearing little more than granny knickers. We loved Bridget just the way she was, which was all she wanted, and it seemed inevitable that we'd all meet again.

Now the chance is here with the release of Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, a sequel that for all its cheeky charm is occasionally as cumbersome as that oversized underwear. It's everything viewers enjoyed about the first film and more, yet slightly less.

Novelist Helen Fielding knocked out the novel when Bridget Jones's Diary became a bestseller with a movie on the horizon. The second book appeared motivated by economics rather than the need to tell us more about this former spinster-in-waiting. The movie feels the same way.

But let's first look at the bright side, which is what Bridget would do: Renee Zellweger is back in the title role that earned an Academy Award nomination, and may again.

Observe this Texas-born actor handling a British accent, her ease with physical comedy and utter lack of vanity, and it's obvious she has created a classic film character. It's also obvious that Zellweger's Oscar for that hambone Cold Mountain performance, and not for playing Bridget (or Chicago's Roxie Hart), was payback of a shameful sort.

The connection with and affection for Bridget by way of Zellweger is immediate. That's not surprising when the first film felt so complete. But it also turns Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason into an exercise in trotting out the same characters, even the same behaviors, with few of them feeling as fresh. Bridget's parents are still mending fences. Bridget's lover Mark Darcy (Colin Firth) still speaks with an inscrutably stiff upper lip. Her fling, Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant) is still a charming bounder. Her circle of friends is back with decidedly less witty impact.

Things are so much the same that Fielding, in an apparent effort to spice things up, devised a bizarre detour to Thailand where Bridget is arrested for transporting narcotics. The result is 20 minutes of setup for one solid girlfriend-in-prison gag and a reconciliation that could have occurred anywhere.

The movie is still enjoyable, sometimes hilarious, yet misses the surprises that made Bridget Jones's Diary more than a chick flick. This time, that's all the filmmakers try to create. Not that there's anythingwrong with that, except the dilution of such potent material.

Director Beeban Kidron does add a few touches to illuminate Bridget's unique way of enduring perpetual loneliness. Musical cues, beginning with a combination of a shampoo ad and The Sound of Music, are often quite clever. A stuffy dinner party with Mark indicates how Bridget manages to be the smartest person in the room and the dumbest at the worst possible moment. A computer-generated shot of Bridget moping at her window, pulling back to reveal dozens of other windows framing romance, is lovely.

But let's get back to Zellweger, the best reason to invest time and money in part two. Looking plumper than in the original, with splotchy skin and "jiggly bits" as Bridget calls her body fat, Zellweger discards every hint of ego to capture Bridget's belief that her value depends so much upon her waistline and bad habits. Each falsely chipper comment, every look of discomfort, are casually perfect. Zellweger is simply, frumpily delightful.

So much so that seeing her play Bridget Jones a third time could be a treat. But only if Fielding and collaborators find a new path, rather than more soap opera with a smile. Match Bridget with someone who can break the rules of romance she has learned in two movies, show her what it's all about. Does anyone have the number for Alfie?