Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy (2025)
Bridget Jones is now a widowed mother of two, and Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy brings this beloved character back to our cinema screens. Bumbling Bridget stumbles through the minefield that is modern dating while trying to juggle dropping the kids off to school, the chaos of work, and the “ghost” of her late husband Mark Darcy, hanging around. Mad About the Boy is the fourth installment in the series, and it trades Bridget’s diary for parenting apps and swiping on Tinder. Bridget is up against a fling with a 29-year-old (Leo Woodall) and her sons disarming and kind science teacher (Chiwetel Ejiofor). And then, of course, there is Hugh Grant’s roguish Daniel Cleaver, who is resurrected with his signature charm. All of this adds up to a cocktail of nostalgia and the messiness of midlife. The cocktail, though, is shaken, not stirred, with mixed results.
Renée Zellweger easily slips back into Bridget’s oversized cardigan. She balances slapstick klutziness with a genuine pathos—a woman rediscovering her identity after the loss of her husband. Her comedy timing is still sharp. It doesn’t matter whether she’s botching a live TV segment or whether she’s sexting her kids’ headmaster. Hugh Grant easily steals every scene he is in. His Cleaver is infused with cheeky vulnerability, which suggests that even playboys grow up—sort of. And Ejiofor brings a quiet warmth to Mr. Wallaker—although his role sometimes feels like it is undercooked when juxtaposed with Woodall’s exuberant Roxter. His millennial slang and his antics without a shirt on give us some laughs but without much depth.
Michael Morris, the director, relies very heavily on the rom-com roots of the franchise. He blends physical humour (remember Bridget face-planting into a compost heap?) with quiet, tear-jerking moments. But the pacing stumbles in the second half because he tries to cram in parenting struggles, workplace gags, and two romantic subplots all into one school term. The cinematography reflects the emotional journey that Bridget is on with its muted greys that dominate the early scenes. The palette gradually brightens as Bridget reconnects with life. One visual highlight comes when Colin Firth’s iconic moment in Pride and Prejudice at a poolside is recreated with a wink by Woodall.
Mad About the Boy explores lots of themes, including dating app culture with its swipes and ghosting, while Bridget longs for old-fashioned connectin. But the critique of digital romance lacks bite. Instead, it opts for easy laughs rather than genuine insights. Emma Thompson, with her wry gynaecologist, and Sally Phillips, who steals the scenes she’s in, return to sprinkle some wit. The younger characters, though, like Isla Fisher as a frazzled neighbour, are mostly used as punchlines instead of equal peers.
The production designers have nailed what a chaotic North London home is like with Lego all over the floor and half-empty wine glasses lying around. And the soundtrack mixes nostalgic Britpop and amusing covers that don’t always gel with the emotional beats of the story. The editing has quite managed to balance the frequent shifts of tone that range from slapstick to sorrow—they happen so abruptly you’re in danger of spilling your popcorn everywhere.
Mad About the Boy doesn’t reinvent the wheel. But it doesn’t need to. If you are a fan of Bridget Jones, you’ll cheer this reunion of her misfit crew along with Hugh Grant’s devilish grin. You’ll cheer even if the plot treads the same ground as before. It’s a warm, funny, and comfortably flawed movie—just like Bridget herself. If you’re looking for a cosy night out with an old friend, then go for it. But don’t expect much more than a reliable, bumpy road through someone’s journey of reinventing themselves in middle age. Make sure you take some tissues ready for the final act: you’ll cringe, you’ll chuckle, and you might shed a tear or two.