Bridget Jones’ Baby

“And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?” Why, Bridget Jones’ Baby, of course! Yes, for no conceivable reason, there is a third Bridget Jones movie. Something tells me that these films were never intended to turn into a trilogy. Maybe it was this script’s divergence from the prior two films’ literary source material (this film allegedly addresses the period between the second and third novels, not the third novel itself). Or maybe it’s the 12-year gap between this movie and its predecessor. But the fact of the matter is, like our plucky protagonist’s unplanned pregnancy, this addition to the family wasn’t particularly well-thought-out.

Now, if it sounds like I’m being too hard on dear old Bridget, it should be noted that I am about as far from the target demographic for this film as a moviegoer can get (the reported opening day audience breakdown was 79 percent female, 72 percent over age 35). While I clearly wasn’t the intended audience for this work, that’s not to say it didn’t work for me at all — though I can honestly say I wish I enjoyed it half as much as some others in the audience at the screening I attended. For those with an affinity for the main character, this film seems to be a welcome return to form. Speaking as someone who’s never given any serious consideration to these movies, this one comes across as little more than highly polished pandering.

The biggest problem here is the screenplay, penned by Bridget author Helen Fielding, Borat scribe Dan Mazer and co-star Emma Thompson. The narrative is sketchy and incoherent, forgoing character development in favor of a series of set pieces that, while unquestionably comedic in intent, are often highly questionable in comedic value. It’s hard to accept the script’s admonitions that Bridget is an accomplished TV news producer when every time we see her at work she’s absurdly unprofessional. These moments do engender a few awkward chuckles, but they’re not funny enough to justify undermining the character’s claims of competence. The plot is painfully predictable, and the problematically ponderous pacing is a test of endurance on par with a full-term pregnancy. One gets the sense that Thompson’s contribution to the script probably focused largely on her own character’s one-liners, as these are easily the funniest moments in the film.

Thompson is by far the cast’s strongest contributor, absolutely stealing every scene she’s in, but there are few genuinely weak links to complain about here. Renée Zellweger embodies the titular protagonist somewhat more comfortably than in the past, especially now that she’s had 15 years to work on her muddled Brit accent. Patrick Dempsey is unobjectionable as the new love interest, replacing Hugh Grant’s written-out character in the plot’s obligatory love triangle. Colin Firth plays the stuffed-shirt Mark Darcy as ably as always (although, in light of his immaculately tailored Savile Row suits and the numerous scenes placing him in ecclesiastical settings, I found it difficult not to long for one of these sequences to play out like the church massacre from 2014’s Kingsman).

Despite my fundamental incompatibility with the film’s marketing strategy, I didn’t hate Bridget Jones’ Baby. Fans of the character will no doubt enjoy this return to familiar territory, and the beleaguered husbands who find themselves in the theater less-than-willingly won’t leave overly embittered. By no means is this a perfect film, but it might be perfectly acceptable for those to whom it was intended to appeal. I certainly can’t call Bridget Jones’ Baby a bundle of joy, and it’s far from premature, but it does avoid becoming the outright miscarriage I had feared. Rated R for language, sex references and some nudity.

Now playing at Carolina Cinemark, Carmike 10, Regal Biltmore Grande, UA Beaucatcher, Epic of Hendersonville