Bridget Jones Never Gets Old
Bridget Jones Never Gets Old
Bridget Jones, as a character, has always hovered uncomfortably between ==the hard light of reality and the rosy glow of romance== . When she first appeared, in newspaper columns written by the British journalist Helen Fielding during the mid-1990s, the 30- something Bridget was claimed as a ==totem== of woman ==hood== at the time: a calorie-counting, self-improvement-obsessed, chain-smoking, ==wine-guzzling singleton== (a ==neologism== Fielding ==immortalized== ); an ==earnest== ==vassal== of Cosmo culture and the embodiment of ==fearmongering== Newsweek coverage about the plight of unmarried career girls. With Bridget, Fielding “articulated the traumas of a generation,” the writer Alain de Botton observed.
But when Bridget’s diary ==entries== were published in book form, in 1996, her true narrative ==arc== was revealed. It didn’t chart a postmodern Gen X nightmare. It was lovingly ==cribbed== from Pride and Prejudice. The most notorious single woman of an era, as her fans learned in the book and its 1999 ==sequel== , and from the movies they inspired in 2001 and 2004, would be largely protected by the ==tired== old ==trappings== of the marriage plot: She would ==bag== her Mr. Darcy and live happily ever after—with a few ==detours== —in his ==dreamy== ==detached== house in Holland Park.
Her ==trajectory== over the next decade-plus (in another round of newspaper columns; another book; and a third movie, Bridget Jones’s Baby, in 2016, not based on a book) certainly had its ==requisite== ==stumbles== . But the character was ==steadied== throughout by the ==Texan== actor Renée Zellweger as the very English Bridget, an unpredictably brilliant piece of ==casting== that just works.
On paper, Bridget can be ==compellingly== hard to ==pin down== , ==inconstant== and ==ironic== , ==messily self-aware== , undeniably human. Early on, she ==cops== to highly compromised feminist principles: She will not “ ==sulk== about having no boyfriend, but develop inner ==poise== and authority and sense of self as woman of substance, complete without boyfriend, as best way to obtain boyfriend.” On-screen, though, Zellweger makes her all heart, ==guileless== as a ==toddler== , impossibly hopeful and ==lovably== absurd. Whatever cards she’s dealt—not least professional ==humiliation== and an accidental pregnancy (paternity unclear, thanks to separate one-night stands and a box of expired ==eco-friendly condoms== )—she ==muddles== through with ==gusto== . We know that Bridget will get her happy ending; this is just about the last romantic-comedy ==franchise== standing. But Zellweger makes us also deeply want her to win, formulaic predictability be damned.
Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy, an adaptation of the ==slapdash== third novel that starts ==streaming== on Peacock on February 13, keeps the ==trope-laden structure== , but finds surprising depth in a devastating plot twist. Bridget, now in her 50s, is single once again: Her beloved husband, Mark Darcy (played in grand ==metafictional== form by an actor who played the other Mr. Darcy, Colin Firth), has died while on a ==humanitarian== mission in Sudan, leaving Bridget to raise their two children alone. The book uses Mark’s death mostly as a narrative device to launch Bridget, with her typically obsessive energy, into ==cougardom== : She starts dating a ==hunky== man in his late 20s named— ==inanely== —Roxster, which exposes Bridget to a whole new range of body-image issues, and exposes Roxster to her children’s head ==lice== .
The movie, though, is more interested in documenting Bridget’s loss, and in the process, it presents a more honest and moving version of her than we’ve seen before. How will the last cockeyed optimist in popular culture deal with such desolation? ==Widowhood== is no laughing matter, parenting alone even less so—though we have to laugh at Bridget burying her face in the ==fridge== to curse, and being surprised by her son’s ==uptight== science teacher while buying an astonishing variety of ==contraceptives== . ==Pathos== ==underpins== the plot. “Do you miss Dada sometimes?” Mabel, Bridget’s daughter, asks her in the movie. “I miss him all of the times,” Bridget replies.
==Grief== is a tough sell for a ==rom-com== , which is maybe why the movie has marketed itself as something more timely, once again positioning Bridget as representative of her moment. Cinema lately has been consumed with what viewers call the “ ==age-gap romance== ,” or, less ==decorously== , the “MILF setup.” In 2024’s The Idea of You, Anne Hathaway plays a divorcée not unlike Bridget in her ==ditziness== , who ==careens== her way into a love affair with a handsome British ==boy-bander== . In two separate movie projects within the space of a year, A Family Affair and Babygirl, Nicole Kidman ==parses== the power differentials at play when older women find ==fulfillment== with younger men.
Bridget’s adventures with the age gap are characteristically sweet and ==laced== with ==goofiness== : When she meets Roxster, she’s shinnying up a tree that both of her children have managed to get stuck in. When he later messages her on Tinder, it’s via an account that her friends have set up: “Tragic Widow Seeks Sexual Awakening.” ==Mortification== , for Bridget, is only ever a degree or two removed from triumph.
Yet Mad About the Boy, for all its familiar, delightful notes, is also ==wincingly== ==astute== regarding modernday dynamics, good and bad, for women of Bridget’s age. When her friends encourage her to pursue Roxster, the idea is plausible not just because Zellweger is still ==luminously== ==endearing== in ==midlife== , but because the world really has changed: Women can date men a decade or more younger ==without inciting mass hysteria== . But they’ve remained undesirable in other ways: Bridget works as a producer for a daytime TV show where formerly ==hard-hitting== female news reporters now ==gush== their way through ==cooking segments== and ==softball interviews== . For female journalists over a certain age, “HDTV was an ==extinction-level== event,” Bridget’s friend Talitha ==mutters== .
The tension between sharp contemporary ==verisimilitude== and ==age-old romantic archetype== helps explain why Bridget ==potters== on while so many other ’90s heroines have fallen by the wayside. (Remember Ally McBeal? She of the ==miniskirts== and the ==catfights== and the ==ludicrous== workplace dilemmas?) The book version of Bridget has come in for ==derision== as an embarrassing relic of ==postfeminism== , screwing up even the most basic personal and professional tasks, and fixated on her thigh ==circumference== and her office crushes. In 2023, a New York Times retrospective finally declared her “ ==nuttiness== and ==self-loathing== ” to be well past its expiration date for modern readers. Yet her movie comebacks continue to be irresistible, in part because no one is more aware of her failings than Bridget herself.
Crucially, she never lets her ==self-critique== shake a confidence lodged someplace inside her (even if she’s not quite sure where). The academic Kelly A. Marsh has argued that despite her ==ongoing== preoccupation with becoming better, Bridget at her core represents, through all her phases, the victory of self-acceptance. She flourishes not just because of the love stories that the novels’ framing forces on her, but thanks to the faithful love of her friends and her own ==stouthearted== spirit.
There’s something ==poignant== , too, about seeing Zellweger in the role, despite all the ==indignities== the actor has suffered along the way—the 2000 cover shoot for Harper’s Bazaar, rudely shelved because Zellweger had gained weight for the role and was deemed too fat for a fashion magazine; the ==tabloid== coverage declaring her “ ==scary skinny== ” when she then duly dieted; the discourse about her changing face, so rabid and intrusive that she had to strike it down in a personal essay for HuffPost. At 55, Zellweger is in what Germaine ==Greer== once cited as a decade of new “invisibility” for women—a phenomenon that Bridget herself analyzes in her diary. And yet here they both are: ==undaunted== , blond, adorable, enduring, changing the world by refusing to ==shrink away from it== . That, as Bridget might say, is v.v. good to see.
Vocabulary, Phrases and Sentences
| Words | Chinese Definition | Phonetic Symbol |
|---|---|---|
| the hard light of reality and the rosy glow of romance | 现实的刺眼光芒与浪漫的 rosy 光辉 | /ðə hɑːd laɪt ɒv riˈæləti ænd ðə ˈrəʊzi ɡləʊ ɒv ˈrəʊmæns/ |
| totem | 图腾 | /ˈtəʊtəm/ |
| hood | 风帽；兜帽；（汽车发动机的）罩；（非法团伙成员常戴的）头罩 | /hʊd/ |
| wine-guzzling singleton | 酗酒的单身人士 | /ˈwaɪn ˈɡʌzlɪŋ ˈsɪŋɡltən/ |
| neologism | 新造词；新词 | /niːˈɒlədʒɪzəm/ |
| immortalize | 使不朽；使永存；纪念 | /ɪˈmɔːtəlaɪz/ |
| earnest | 认真的；诚挚的；热切的 | /ˈɜːnɪst/ |
| vassal | 附庸；臣属；诸侯 | /ˈvæsl/ |
| fearmonger | 散布恐惧者；制造恐慌者 | /ˈfɪəmʌŋɡə(r)/ |
| entry | 进入；入口；参赛作品；条目 | /ˈentri/ |
| arc | 弧；弧形（物）；电弧；弧光 | /ɑːk/ |
| crib | 婴儿床；抄袭；剽窃 | /krɪb/ |
| sequel | 续集；续篇；后续的事 | /ˈsiːkwəl/ |
| tired | 疲倦的；累的；厌烦的 | /ˈtaɪəd/ |
| trapping | （动物的）皮毛；陷阱；圈套；伏击 | /ˈtræpɪŋ/ |
| detour | 绕道；弯路；迂回路 | /ˈdiːtʊə(r)/ |
| dreamy | 梦幻般的；轻柔的；恍惚的；心不在焉的 | /ˈdriːmi/ |
| detached | 分开的；分离的；超然的；冷漠的 | /dɪˈtætʃt/ |
| trajectory | 轨道；轨迹；弹道 | /trəˈdʒektəri/ |
| requisite | 必要的；必不可少的；必需品 | /ˈrekwɪzɪt/ |
| stumble | 绊脚；跌跌撞撞地走；蹒跚；犯错；失足 | /ˈstʌmbl/ |
| steady | 稳定的；平稳的；持续的；坚定的；使稳定 | /ˈstedi/ |
| texan | 得克萨斯州的；得克萨斯州人 | /ˈteksən/ |
| casting | 铸造；铸件；投；掷；选派角色 | /ˈkɑːstɪŋ/ |
| compellingly | 引人注目地；令人信服地 | /kəmˈpelɪŋli/ |
| pin down | 确定；查明；准确描述；迫使明确表态 | /ˈpɪn daʊn/ |
| inconstant | 无常的；多变的；反复无常的 | /ɪnˈkɒnstənt/ |
| ironic | 具有讽刺意味的；反讽的 | /aɪˈrɒnɪk/ |
| messily self-aware | 凌乱地自我意识 | /ˈmesəli ˈself əˈweə(r)/ |
| cop | 警察；抓住；逮捕 | /ˈkɒp/ |
| sulk | 生闷气；愠怒 | /ˈsʌlk/ |
| poise | 沉着；镇定；泰然自若；姿势；姿态 | /ˈpɔɪz/ |
| guileless | 诚实的；坦率的；不狡诈的 | /ˈɡaɪlləs/ |
| toddler | 学步的幼儿 | /ˈtɒdlə(r)/ |
| lovably | 可爱地 | /ˈlʌvəbli/ |
| humiliation | 羞辱；耻辱；蒙羞 | /hjuːˌmɪliˈeɪʃn/ |