It’s cellulite! Up there on the big screen, in all its dimpled glory. On a
leading lady, no less.
It’s but one of the let-it-all-hang-out joys of “Bridget Jones,” the
hilarious and sexy adaptation of Helen Fielding’s best-seller.
Renee Zellweger gives a full-bodied, full-throttle performance as the
weight-obsessed, chain-smoking and irrepressible single woman in her 30s.
Matching her comic panache are Hugh Grant as her charming but romantically
toxic boss and Colin Firth as his stiff but sincere romantic rival.
Any trepidation about an American actress assuming the role of the very
British Ms. Jones vanishes in the opening minutes. Zellweger’s crack comic
timing and enormously expressive face pre-empt the idea of any other Bridget.
She embodies the daffy determination, self-skewering wit and vulnerability of
her character. The 20 pounds she gained for the role fill out her face and
enhance her girlish appeal, rendering her instantly and infinitely sympathetic.
But Zellweger’s Bridget is no chump. Self-destructive, sure. Goofy, yes.
Occasionally arch, of course — she’s British. But Zellweger shows that the
silly and sometimes slovenly character also has a spine. She demonstrates it
through Bridget’s tortured but determined attempts at public speaking or her
surprising resolve in matters of the heart.
“Bridget Jones” is a triumph for all involved. Screenwriters Fielding,
Andrew Davies and Richard Curtis have wisely pared down or excised subplots to
focus on Bridget’s romantic travails and career missteps. Director Sharon
Maguire, Fielding’s pal and the inspiration for Bridget’s cynical chum Shazzer
in the book and movie, has crafted
a production that zips along at a laugh-a-minute pace and fully involves
the viewer in Bridget’s little slice of life.
Bridget works at a London publishing house and pines for her handsome cad
of a boss, Daniel (Grant). She passes time by documenting her sad-sack life in
her diary (Sample entry: “Weight: 140 (but post-Christmas); cigarettes: 40!;
alcohol units: 15!”) while slagging off the Smug Marrieds whose glowing self-
satisfaction is an assault on her single
status.
Real life interferes when the boss shows interest and she succumbs to his
roguish charms. Zellweger’s chemistry with Grant is electric, and their scenes
crackle with sexuality and quick-witted humor. Their sex talk is refreshingly
frank and natural.
Grant sheds his trademark stammering and fluttering in favor of an aging
lothario’s lived-in sexiness. He allows himself to look older onscreen, and it
works wonderfully for the role. Grant’s Daniel is witty, undeniably hot and
maddeningly sheepish about commitment.
Bridget’s parents want to match her with the more solid Mark Darcy, a
barrister who was her childhood playmate. In an inspired casting move, Darcy
is played by Colin Firth, the actor who was Mr. Darcy in the BBC’s “Pride and
Prejudice” and also the object of Bridget’s obsessive lust in the book. (The
character’s name is one of “Bridget’s” nods to the Jane Austen story).
At first, Firth seems to be channeling Mr. Darcy’s diffidence and off-
putting, cheerless manner. Ultimately, though, he proves a nice contrast to
Zellweger as their characters’ relationship starts to thaw. Zellweger’s
chemistry with Firth is just as palpable as it is with Grant but not as
sexually charged. It’s more a meeting of comic minds, with his straight-man
countenance drawing out her wackiest work, like Burns and Allen.
In one scene, Bridget struggles mightily to maintain a cool facade in front
of Darcy, all while sporting a ridiculously windblown hairdo. Zellweger is
playing so many emotions in this scene it’s hard to keep track. There’s pride,
embarrassment and the conflict of realizing that she cares enough to put on a
show for this guy. It’s the kind of layered acting that makes a great
performance — and sublime comedy.
Advisory: This movie contains raw language and sexual situations.
E-mail Carla Meyer at cmeyer@sfchronicle.com.