I finally understood Bridget Jones

For years, I thought Bridget was ridiculous. The tragic dating life, the questionable career choices, the wine-fueled existential crises—hilarious, but so far from reality. And yet, here I am, writing newsletters about meat, rethinking my entire life, and suddenly understanding why she kept making such terrible decisions. Because it's the same.

This might be an unpopular opinion, but the new Bridget Jones film is actually pretty good. Having grown up loving the clumsy yet endearing Bridget, I couldn’t miss the chance to see how her story ends. She remains one of the most important pop culture heroines of recent decades—unlike most rom-com characters, she has always reflected reality, albeit in a slightly exaggerated way. Yes, Renée Zellweger now moves as if she has a stick somewhere it shouldn’t be, and she may have overdone it with the Botox, but the film still feels genuine, warm, and, most importantly, human. Unlike so many sequels, this one actually resembles real life—with all its ups and downs, moments of joy and heartbreak, and, of course, those signature secondhand embarrassment scenes that have always defined Bridget Jones.

The nods to previous films are woven in with care and humor: the iconic blue soup moment has now morphed into cocktails, and her son rings in the New Year wearing the sweater of his father, who (yes, really) died in Sudan. And as a personal touch, I loved seeing my own neighborhood on screen—turns out, Bridget and I are Hampstead neighbors.

But perhaps the best decision they made? Reconciling her with Hugh Grant. The ultimate friendship glow-up. If only all breakups ended this gracefully.

And one last spoiler: after 25 years, she’s finally made the right underwear choice.