By Sarah Osman

Yes, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy is a cheesy, predictable rom-com. But it doesn’t try to be anything that it’s not.

Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy, directed by Michael Morris from a screenplay by Helen Fielding, Dan Mazer, and Abi Morgan. Streaming on Peacock

A scene featuring Renée Zellweger and Leo Woodall from Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy. Photo: Universal/Courtesy Everett Collection

In the early 2000s, two single ladies came to represent single women, one in London, and the other in New York. Both were born from newspaper columns based on their own authors’ experiences as single ladies. Both had their columns eventually turned into books and then made into film and TV phenomena. Over the last two decades, Bridget Jones and Carrie Bradshaw are still iconic fictional singles, even though both have settled down. But, because nostalgia and the almighty dollar never stop mating, Bridget and Carrie continue to pop up on our screens. The difference is that one has grown up in a way that respected fans of her character, while the other feels like a ghost of her former self.

Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy is the fourth installment in the beloved Bridget Jones series, and this time around, the character has more in common with Carrie Bradshaw: they’re both widows. We immediately learn that Bridget’s beloved Mr. Darcy passed away on a humanitarian mission in Sudan, and that it’s been four years since that fateful day. She and her children, Billy and Mabel, are still grappling with their grief — an emotional motif that the film doesn’t brush aside. Listening to advice from her concerned friends, Bridget (Renée Zellweger) decides to take back her life. She returns to TV producing, starts dating a much younger man named Roxster (Leo Woodall), and keeps having awkward encounters with her son’s science teacher, Mr. Wallaker (Chiwetel Ejiofor).

Bridget’s antics are as ridiculous as ever. She meets Roxster when trying to rescue her children from a tree; she accidentally announces to a TV audience that she had amazing sex, and she burns a pot of spaghetti. Bridget is still a hot mess, but that’s what we and Mr. Darcy love about her. Her behavior is consistent with who she was 20 years ago. Still, at the same time, Bridget remains wildly relatable. She strides into the bathroom and screams at her children that she needs one minute of quiet to herself. She drops her kids off in her pajamas. And she’s still drinking too much wine. But who hasn’t done any of the above (especially if you’re a parent?).

At the same time, Bridget’s state of mourning isn’t dismissed, in what is the film’s most powerful thorough line. She worries about her son, who has grown distant. She writes a heartbreaking letter to Mr. Darcy, reflecting on just how much she needs him. She’s haunted by his ghost. She doesn’t fully overcome her grief, but she does learn how to process it.

Bridget’s friends and family have also aged in ways you would have expected them to. Her friend, Shazzer (Sally Phillips), known for her swearing and dalliances with younger men, now has a podcast where she chats about both of these things. Her mother has moved into a resort-style retirement home but still finds the time to call Bridget every day. Even her old boyfriend, whom she’s now friends with, Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant), has begun to reflect on his fuck boy ways and how he can mature.

Compare this to the inanity of And Just Like That, the continuation of Sex and the City. Mr. Big abruptly dies while pedaling on a Peloton in an unintentionally funny scene. This demise is not believable, certainly not for a character as outsized as Mr. Big. Carrie’s grief was believable, though it was not as respectfully handled as Bridget’s. What’s more, Carrie still seems to be the hot mess she was in her early 30s. Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is no longer the self-assured, no-nonsense lawyer she was in the original series. Instead, she’s shown chasing after Che (Sara Ramirez), who doesn’t seem too keen on a relationship with her. Charlotte’s (Kristin Davis) children behave like spoiled brats while Davis appears to have forgotten how to play the character. It’s absurd that the prim Charlotte of Sex and the City would go off to buy condoms in a snowstorm so her teenage daughter could have sex. In the midst of this lackluster fare the series shoehorned in commentary on race, gender, and “wokeism,” that no one asked for.

Yes, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy is a cheesy, predictable rom-com. But it doesn’t try to be anything that it’s not. It’s a heartfelt love letter to fans of Ms. Jones that proves it is fine to follow the trials and tribulations of the same characters through the years — as long as you portray them realistically and with the same level of care they were given when they were initially created.

Sarah Mina Osman is based in Los Angeles. In addition to the Arts Fuse, her writing can be found in Huffington Post, Success Magazine, Matador Network, HelloGiggles, Business Insider, and WatchMojo. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina Wilmington and is working on her first novel. She has a deep appreciation for sloths and tacos. You can keep up with her on Instagram: @SarahMinaOsman; Bluesky: @sarahminaosman.bsky.social.”