In America, the land of the free, we have more than one TV show dedicated solely to people shouting at each other over paternity tests.
Contrast this with the atrocity that is the most recent book-to-film adaptation of a Helen Fielding story, wherein two rich and dashing gentlemen wait nine whole months to find out who is the father of the frumpy protagonist’s child. Two long hours of this, and not once does either of them slap the other across the face with a pair of leather riding gloves.
SPOILER ALERT: “mum’s the word” is not really the best way to go about cases involving pater familias, better known as “daddy issues.”
Bridget Jones’s exposition
The “film” opens with our story’s hero, Bridget Jones, waking on her 43rd birthday to a mouthy mother complaining that Bridget is running out of time to have children. If one of the characters turned to the camera and informed the audience of the runtime of this movie, it would have been more subtle than this setup and the foreshadowing of what was to come over the 123 minutes that followed.
Blah, blah, Bridget is adorably neurotic, relatable, and British in all the ways necessary to earn $200+ million dollars on a budget 1/10th the size of that. For example, she drunkenly trips into the wrong tent while enjoying the single life at a music festival -- a tent that just so happens to house a smoldering Patrick Dempsey.
(As a quick aside, there are A LOT of impeccably groomed festival-goers in their mid-40s in this movie. Is that actually a thing? We don’t think that’s an accurate thing).
Bridget sleeps with Patrick Dempsey, which is definitely the most reasonable decision in this entire movie, and wakes the next morning to find him AWOL. A slight which somehow doesn’t deter her from sleeping with her ex, Colin Firth, the very next day at her godchild’s christening. Only this time she splits before he wakes up. Way to turn the tables Bridget!
As lawyers, we must advise against
...copulating with men you find in tents. Unless it really is Patrick Dempsey, we might
make an exception for that.
And that’s when the rising action finally...arises
She’s pregnant. Seriously, this movie should’ve been a 20-minute TV sitcom. Based on the scant character development, Bridget seems to decide to keep the baby solely because 123 minutes of a middle-aged parent filling out adoption paperwork interspersed with a mid-life crisis montage didn’t appeal to test audiences.
Instead she keeps up the charade, taking each of the two silver foxes through a groundhog’s day of duplicate doctor appointments and infant-themed shopping sprees. It is...predictable.
As lawyers, we must advise against
Telling two different men they are fathers of the same baby. DNA tests can be performed as early as seven weeks into a pregnancy and have been scientifically proven to prevent televised appearances on Maury.
What, oh what, might happen at the climax?!
We’re not joking, there were so many clichés happening during the culmination of this story that we’ll just go ahead and review them in a lightning round: Bridget locks herself outside in the rain, Colin Firth saves the day, kisses her in the rain, her water breaks, he throws his phone into the sewer to show he doesn’t care about work anymore, but now they can’t call a cab. HILARITY.
As lawyers, we must advise against
Doing...well just about anything that takes place in this scene. At this point in a paternity scenario, if you had called us the dispute would be settled and you’d be headed to the hospital with the legal guardian of your forthcoming human baby.
(Love and) Falling action
Now, we don’t know how things work across the pond, but it’s minutes after the birth when the doctor asks these two hound dogs to follow her and submit DNA samples for the paternity test. Which, as we’ve mentioned -- could have been performed within the first two months of the pregnancy.
As lawyers, we must advise against
Letting anything in your life devolve to this level of absurdity.
Dénouement
That’s really just a fancy word for resolution. But we are intent on including a certain amount of snooty words in every blog post, so there you go.
As if Bridget Jones’s Baby was competing for some sort of Most Clichés in One Movie award, we get a zany bait-and-switch for the closing scene. First we see Bridget in a wedding dress standing next to Handsome Actor #1, holding their baby. BUT WAIT. There’s a camera-pan and she’s actually marrying Handsome Actor #2!
It’s not that we avoided naming names to avoid spoilers, it’s that there’s no point in resolving this bizarrely unrealistic story. Call your friendly neighborhood lawyers (that’s us, please don’t mistake that for another firm), ascertain paternity early, and file the proper legal paperwork with your state government.
The real-world process will probably take only a few hours. You could easily make time for that by skipping 123 minutes of Renee Zellweger mumbling, “Oh bloody hell,” right before doing something clumsy.