Colin Firth reprises his smouldering act as Mr Darcy, although oddly it's Hugh who gets dripping wet this time, drunkenly falling out of the rowing boat he and Bridget have hired on a romantic weekend break. Her cheeks have become plump, hamster-ish, pushing her mouth into a continuous, unsexy pout of anxiety and self-reproach. And he's much more interesting than dull old Darcy or indeed silly old Bridget. It reminded me of Leavis's comment about Edith Sitwell: Putting their great ancestor Bridge on the screen, however, abolishes this contract of understanding between writer and reader. He is effortlessly the best thing in the film. We all know how Bridget Jones has been the template for the jokey single-gal confessionalists in fact and fiction. Her thighs are massively dimpled and her great bottom is as stately as a sinking galleon, and it's always in our face, particularly when Bridget wears a bulging Playboy bunny outfit to her mother's vicars and tarts party. Share via Email Well, here it is. Daniel is mad, bad, dangerous and extremely funny to know. The answer, frankly, is Hugh, who blows everyone else off the screen with a cracking performance as the naughtier-than-thou heartbreaker. What a pair they are. In print, we were laughing with Bridget. How Bridget famously spawned a billion imitators in books and newspapers, who get daringly drunk and are "rubbish" and "sad" about men and everything else. What we've got isn't so much postmodern Pride and Prejudice as pre-modern Mills and Boon. Richard Curtis's script taken from original drafts by Helen Fielding and Andrew Davies may not be as sharp as Four Weddings or Notting Hill, but it has its moments, including a tremendous gag about, of all people, FR Leavis.