+ another review of Bridget Jones's Diary by Cynthia Fuchs
Austen Power
I'm usually a few paces behind when it comes to
current fiction, bypassing the Best-Sellers table at
B&N for the less-crowded, ambiguously titled
"Literature" section. But last summer, I was
relatively with it when I finally read Helen
Fielding's Bridget Jones's Diary poolside. Granted,
I was reading it four years after everyone else, but
like everyone I knew who'd read the chronicle of a
neurotic, obsessive, "singleton," I loved it and could
hardly wait for the film version. Why did I love it?
Besides the fact that Fielding's writing is clever and
hilarious and I had the same "that's me!" moment that
millions of other women apparently had, I felt that my
dozen or so readings of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice (speaking of obsessive) were finally
validated. For Bridget Jones's Diary is in fact a
modern adaptation of that Austen classic.
But, we'll get to that in a minute...
Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger -- and yes, I was
worried too at first by this casting decision, but
she's perfect!) is a single British woman in her early
thirties who struggles with, among other things, her
weight, her family, her job, her self-esteem, and her
lovelife, or, more accurately, the lack thereof. At
the start of the New Year, she begins keeping a diary
in an effort to get control of all of the above and
develop "inner poise." Among Bridget's obsessions is
her boss, Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant). Despite her
resolution not to "form romantic attachments to any of
the following: alcoholics, workaholics, commitment
phobics, people with girlfriends or wives,
misogynists, megalomaniacs, chauvinists, emotional
fuckwits or freeloaders," she pines for Daniel who,
naturally, embodies all of the above. He eventually
begins flirting with Bridget via instant messaging,
which leads to an affair and something like a
relationship. The happy result of said relationship is
Bridget losing weight, limiting all her cigarettes to
post-coital ones, and most importantly, having (at
long last) a positive response to the question
incessantly posed to her by family and friends: "So,
Bridge, how's your love life?"
While Daniel is the man that Bridget loves, the one
she loathes is Mark Darcy (Colin Firth): a smug, rich,
condescending barrister and acquaintance of the Jones
family. She first meets him at a New Year's Turkey
Curry Buffet where they both have the misfortune of
being foisted upon one another by well-meaning but
clueless relatives. It's not enough to say that Darcy
has no interest in Bridget. He remains standoffish and
cold toward her attempts at small talk. Bridget
describes him this way in the book (one of my favorite
lines, sadly not included in the film): "It struck me
as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr. Darcy and to
stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It's like
being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the
entire evening in the garden, shouting 'Cathy' and
banging your head against a tree." In both book and
film, Bridget keeps running into Mark Darcy at
particularly embarrassing moments for her, such as
when she's making a disastrous speech at a book party
or shows up dressed as a Playboy bunny at a formal
garden party. If all of this wasn't bad enough, she
learns that Mark and Daniel were once best friends,
until Mark ran off with Daniel's fiancee. Now Bridget
can hate Darcy on Daniel's behalf as well, and not
just for his attitude toward her.
Things for Bridget never seem to go as planned, so
it's really not surprising when the fabulous Daniel
lets her down or the icy Mark begins to warm up to
her. Her woes leave her hopeless for a while
(resulting in weight-gain and heavy drinking) and then
motivate her to "self-improvement" (weight loss, new
job, self-help books). After all her attempts at
reinvention, she finds that one man loves her just as
she is, an option that sadly enough never occurred to
her before.
So, how is Bridget Jones's Diary a reiteration of
Pride and Prejudice? Fielding has said more than
once that Austen was her inspiration, and her sequel
to the Diary, Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason,
draws from Persuasion. For the film, Colin Firth's
casting as Mark Darcy is inspired in more than one
way: Fielding based her Mark Darcy on his wonderful
portrayal of Mr. Darcy in the 1994 version of Pride and Prejudice (written by Andrew Davies, who co-wrote
Bridget Jones with Richard Curtis). The Mr. Darcy
thing is only the most facile Austenian reference. His
first meeting with Bridget at the Turkey Curry Buffet,
when Mark Darcy makes a rude reference to Bridget loud
enough for her to hear, mirrors the scene when
Austen's Mr. Darcy does the same to Elizabeth Bennett;
Mark Darcy struggles against falling for Bridget just
as Mr. Darcy does against falling in love with
Elizabeth; and Daniel Cleaver is Austen's Wickham, Mr.
Darcy's childhood friend and the one Elizabeth prefers
to Mr. Darcy until she learns who the real bastard is.
But these are easy one-to-one connections.
The women in Bridget Jones's Diary reveal a slightly
more complex and thought-provoking dependence to their
predecessor. Bridget's mother (Gemma Jones) certainly
corresponds to the flighty Mrs. Bennett, but she's
also part Lydia Bennett, the rebellious daughter in
P&P who runs off with Wickham and (gasp!) lives with
him before they get married. Mrs. Jones is more a
response to Austen than a reflection, as she abandons
her roles as wife and mother, and runs off with the
host of a home shopping cable television show.
And then there's Bridget. She, like Elizabeth, is
opinionated, strong-willed, impulsive, passionate, and
embarrassed by her mother. Sure, we could never
imagine Elizabeth (who despite the above qualities is
ultimately constrained by propriety) smoking,
drinking, or referring to herself as a "wanton sex
goddess" (Lydia, maybe), but we stop short of
congratulating Bridget Jones with a hearty "you've
come a long way, baby." After all, Bridget Jones's Diary, like Pride and Prejudice, is preoccupied
with marriage. It's pretty funny to watch as every
family member she runs into asks when she's going to
settle down, but there is really little difference
between them and the host of older characters in
Austen's novel who constantly scheme and plot marriage
connections for their daughters. Despite her
resentment of the "smug marrieds" who pity her
seemingly permanent status as a "singleton," marriage
appears to be what Bridget really wants. Regardless of
her efforts toward self-acceptance and inner poise,
she is ultimately preparing for the same
happily-ever-after with which Elizabeth Bennett was
rewarded nearly two centuries ago.
