Has anyone ever considered giving Patrick Dempsey a sharper razor? Maybe take him to a professional barber? Perhaps you could ask him to, I dunno, shave on the day of filming. I’m just spit-balling here; clearly, Patrick’s fans adore must the semi-grizzled look he sports. It is not mine to argue, just to ridicule.
Bridget Jones’s Baby lends good insight as to why Jane Austen didn’t go a whole lot for sequels. While it might be fun to see Colin Firth reduced to a petty “my sperm are better than your sperm” squabble, does one really see that in the nature of Mr. Darcy, (arguably) Austen’s most cherished male character? And this is my biggest problem with the third chapter in the Bridget Jones saga – the men exist almost entirely for comic relief purposes, and the comedy is almost strictly paint-by-numbers.
Title heroine Bridget Jones (Renée Zellweger) is celebrating her 43rd birthday alone, awwwwww. (In reality, she’s 47 and the original Bridget Jones’s Diary came out when she was 32. I don’t see either number as a slight on character or actress; I just like timelines.) Renée Zellweger seems the only one among us who hasn’t seen BJD at least a dozen times because her character doesn’t seem right. What’s this? NOT embarrassing herself at a funeral? Making pleasantries without sticking her foot in her mouth? Adopting a grin-and-bear-it attitude rather than painful self-deprecating humility? Who are you? And if you’ve grown so much, why are you celebrating your birthday alone?
Bridget Jones’s Baby is not without genuine humor. The bad news is that it also didn’t go for a laugh you couldn’t see parading naked down Regent Street blocks in advance. When encouraged to go half-sies on a yurt for a music festival, Bridget shows for the muddy outdoor affair attired in a head-to-toe white outfit and heels. Deep sigh. Yeah, I enjoyed watching Jack (Dempsey) hoisting her from the filth eddy, but I have to question why the film needed to go there, specifically. This, of course, leads to possible conception moment #1. The following weekend, Bridget finds her ex-, Mark (Firth), at an overnight function. Add alcohol and soon there’s possible conception moment #2.
Why aren’t Bridget and Mark still together? And if they’re not, what’s with the 100% amiable one-night-stand? I’m immediately reminded of Larry Miller’s comedy routine, “I don’t understand couples that break up and get back together. That’s like eating your cereal in the morning and going, ‘(ugh) this milk is sour … maybe tomorrow it will be fresh.’ ” We know these people. They know one another. It boggles the mind as to how either of these folks ever got to a point of, “hey! Whoa! This isn’t what I signed up for!” Again, this is why Jane Austen didn’t specialize in sequel.
I wouldn’t call Bridget Jones’s Baby weak or tiresome, but it would have been both had it continued in the same vein for another half-hour. Most of the film is either the battle between Jack and Mark or Bridget’s feelings about the battle between Jack and Mark. The baby is an afterthought. Both gentlemen act in ways that are entirely script convenient, but don’t really jive with human nature. For instance, Bridget ignores everyone for three full months following conception, yet both men essentially rearrange their entire lives to assume parental responsibility when Bridget informs them of her condition. This continues until they … don’t. That 
baffles me. Hear me out as I role play per script: I had wild sex with Bridget, woo! Huh. She snuck out in the morning and never contacted. Ok, well, guess that was fun. Alas … (three months later) … Oh hey, Bridget. I really had a good time, um, last … season. What’s that? You’re pregnant?! The baby is mine? OK, I’m in. I’ll figure out job, lifestyle, whatever to accommodate you. What’s that? Baby might not be mine? Ok, I’m in all the same. What’s that? Other possible is kind of a jerk and I have to spend time with him while you waffle? Screw it. I’m still in. What can I do for you, Bridget? I’ll even move in in you like. What’s that? You’re seven months pregnant but can’t choose a man?! That’s it. I’m done. Good luck. Smell you later.
Whaaaaaaaaa?!
Emma Thompson showed some quality self-love here by penning her own role as Bridget’s OB/GYN. I’ve come to love Emma Thompson as comic actress; I hope she shows up whenever somebody makes a British comedy. Knowing the perpetual recycling of English actors, she probably will.
Jack and Mark fight hands unclean
Their progenitor scuffle? Obscene.
Surprise with pronouncement
For Bridget’s announcement
The father is really Mr. Bean
Rated R, 123 Minutes
D: Sharon Maguire
W: Helen Fielding and Dan Mazer and Emma Thompson
Genre: Constructing a cheap-joke platform
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: People who have seen the original upwards of a dozen times
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Paternity suit fathers
