BEING forced to watch Bridget Jones: Mad About A Fourth Instalment by a wife or girlfriend? These are the lessons you are expected to learn:
Age gap trysts are fine, this way
As long as the woman is decades older and her slam piece is a toned outdoorsy type in the prime of his youth, age gap relationships are pretty great. Older men dating nubile younger women are vile and reprehensible, however. This is justice for decades of the opposite, so shut up and let her gawp.
Renée Zellweger’s still got it
So what if she’s in her fifties? And looks so unlike the Renée Zellweger of the first two instalments it might as well be a different actress? She’s relatable, human and flawed, so be prepared to say yes, of course you find her attractive. The alternative is being a shallow, duplicitous prick like Hugh Grant in the first film when he got all the sex.
You can be horny and sad simultaneously
The Bridget Jones films are an enduring success because they encapsulate the intricate complexities of the female experience. Just take the latest film, which portrays how women can be tragic widows and gagging to ride a gardener both at once. Your primitive male brain with its love of CGI explosions could never contain such multitudes.
Colin Firth is perfect
He’s not in this one because he was killed by a landmine while doing good works, a death only one as virtuously English as Princess Diana could deserve. This is also the message of every other film with Colin Firth in, and also all those without. Even the subtext of Solaris is ‘isn’t he just the most wonderful man ever?’ if you watch carefully.
It’s adorable to be a f**k-up
When Bridget makes an inappropriate speech, isn’t sure who she’s pregnant by or accidentally sets fire to an orphanage, it’s cute and klutzy and everyone forgives her because she’s such an inspiring free spirit. Your duty is to do the same when your wife scrapes the car or steps on your MacBook. An example has been set.
No good film can be allowed to die
Bridget Jones’s Diary was a pretty good rom-com, bizarre as all the indoor smoking now seems. Even the blokiest of men admits that. By law, therefore, it must now be subject to sequels of ever-decreasing returns until all affection for it is destroyed. There will be a Bridget Jones 5. And a 6. And a reboot, and a TV series, and an AI chatbot companion.
