About fifteen minutes from the end of this film, a teenager pulled the fire alarm at my cinema, forcing the audience to evacuate. My main concern was not the safety of the building or its inhabitants, but rather who the bloody father was.
That is the effect this charming movie had on me. Like with the 2016 presidential election or something with seemingly higher stakes, Game of Thrones, it literally could have been almost anyone. I just had to know who it was.
And let me tell you, I was not disappointed. Bridget Jones’s Baby is the third film revolving around the title character, played with endearing faults by Renee Zellweger. This time, she gets lucky enough to “shag” two men in a close time frame, and she literally doesn’t know which one is the father. Call it simple, but it really does lead to complications.
The men in question are Mark Darcy (Colin Firth), her old flame, and Jack Qwant (Patrick Dempsey), a boyish billionaire matchmaker who literally wears a sweater to Glastonbury. This film is all about the hijinks between these men, as they start to compete for Bridget’s affection (like that would honestly make them the father), and Bridget cannot help but get caught in the middle.
Add in appealing production design, scenery-chewers, and a general affability, and I really could not have enjoyed the film much more than I did. It’s by no means great, and I might forget the plot before long, but this film made me enjoy life for two hours and two minutes. Sometimes, you can’t ask for more than that.
Bridget Jones’s Baby is in theaters now. Take your mom.