Ivan Radford | On 06, Apr 2025

Director: Michael Morris
Cast: Renée Zellweger, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Leo Woodall, Hugh Grant, Jim Broadbent, Gemma Jones
Certificate: 15

It’s been almost a quarter of a century since Bridget Jones first appeared on our screens with her titular diary. What began as a story of a woman turning the page in her life descended into forced rom-com formula with a misjudged sequel, before Bridget regained some substance with a fun and heartfelt threequel. Now, an unexpected fourth chapter 24 years later sees the Bridget Jones franchise mature into something movingly character-driven.

We find Bridget (Renée Zellweger) navigating new waters – raising her two kids, Billy (Casper Knopf) and Mabel (Mila Jankovic), while grieving the loss of her husband, Mark (Colin Firth), who was killed on a humanitarian mission in Sudan. She’s still as adorably accident-prone as ever, but has a new sense of direction in which to aim that clumsy energy – albeit, a direction that’s only geared towards getting through the next 20 minutes without something going wrong. She rocks up to the school gates in her pyjamas and tolerates the withering judgement of other parents – and the intimidating whistleblowing of science teacher Mr Wallaker (the superb Chiwetel Ejiofor), whom she immediately compares to a fascist.

Bridget, though, isn’t on her own. The script (by author Helen Fielding, Dan Mazer and Abi Morgan) smartly brings back her friends to keep her company, including Shirley Henderson as the deliciously acerbic Jude, the endearingly earnest Tom (James Callis) and the supportive Sharon (Sally Phillips). Together with the amusingly rank Dr Rawlings (Emma Thompson), they persuade her to get off the sofa and back to work in TV – hello to the scene-stealing Sarah Solemani as Bridget’s colleague, Miranda – and even on to Tinder.

It’s here that she encounters Roxster (Leo Woodall), a much younger man who works as a park ranger. What ensues is a steamy fling that builds into an equally steamy relationship, much to the shock and jealousy of most adults around her. Leo Woodall gamely steps into the shoes of the heavily objectified toy boy, bringing some sweetly believable naivety to a part that could have been two-dimensional.

But it’s the comparative growth elsewhere that really makes Mad About the Boy so successful. What appears to be a return to the one-woman-torn-between-two-men set-up is actually a misdirection or something far more thoughtful and serious. The ghost of Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy lingers with a heart-aching presence, balanced out by the glorious return of Hugh Grant as perma-playboy Daniel Cleaver. And yet even his Lothario comes with a poignant dash of maturity, or at least age – one of the best moments is him and Bridget reflecting on their enduring friendship and trust of one another.

At the helm, Michael Morris – who recently gave us the heart-wrenching To Leslie – perfectly balances the sad and the funny, turning what is ostensibly a romantic comedy into a drama that happens to have romance and comedy in it. Morris understands the impact of growing up alongside a familiar face, and lets us – as well as Bridget – experience the joys and sorrows of that process. Callbacks in the form of props and dialogue only reinforce the intimacy of this lived-in ensemble, as each line of dialogue reminds us how many each person has changed as well as stayed the same.

At the heart of it all is Renée Zellweger, who inhabits Bridget with all the warmth of a comfy cardigan, now with some grey strands starting to appear. She brilliantly explores Bridget’s grief with a frank honesty, keeping the franchise’s theme of turning the page front and centre but with newly added depth. Conjuring up sparks with both Woodall and Chiwetel Ejiofor, she holds space for hope and attraction without losing the heavy weight of her story so far – and she makes finding that delicate tone look entirely effortless.

The result is a surprisingly emotional next chapter for Bridget Jones that, crucially, isn’t afraid to treat her as a serious character – and let the audience mature and grow along with her. What a beautiful, compassionate piece of storytelling this is.

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