Bridget Jones's Diary: Self-Esteem, Shame and Relationships

Bridget sits at home, singing along to a recording and experiencing her loneliness as though she were in a major musical number. It is funny to watch, but her flat contains nobody for whom she needs to make a successful joke or behave properly. She can be disappointed, ridiculous and loud. At a family gathering, that freedom will quickly end: she will once again have to answer questions about her personal life.

Sharon Maguire's Bridget Jones's Diary was released in 2001. Renée Zellweger plays Bridget, Hugh Grant plays Daniel Cleaver, and Colin Firth plays Mark Darcy. Helen Fielding, Andrew Davies and Richard Curtis wrote the screenplay, based on Fielding's novel. Spoilers for the first film follow. I am interested in how Bridget tries to improve herself before she has established what she wants.

At family gatherings, her relationship status becomes everybody's business. Other people introduce, assess, advise and ask. Some of these conversations contain genuine concern, but leave Bridget little room to decide what she wants to discuss. Being without a partner seems to require an explanation; having one would apparently excuse her from questioning.

Other people's curiosity gradually becomes her own way of looking at herself. “Do I like this person?” can easily give way to “Can I finally become someone who has been chosen?” This difference can make the same encounter feel very different. Bridget wants intimacy while also hoping to escape the uncomfortable status that people keep reminding her about.

In an ordinary conversation, a short question about when someone will finally settle down can mix a private wish with the pressure to justify oneself. A specific response can help: “I don't want to discuss whether I'm dating anyone today.” It allows the evening to continue without giving everyone present the right to assess one's life.

At the start of the year, Bridget promises to change her life and begins keeping a diary. Weight, cigarettes, alcohol and romantic prospects become measures against which she can grade herself each day. Writing creates a sense of order, but the severity of her demands remains: it simply has a page of its own.

The existence of a detailed record tells us little about someone's attitude towards themselves. A person can describe a day thoroughly and repeatedly find evidence of their own inadequacy. “I ruined everything again” sounds convincing while concealing most of the details: what happened, who was there, what was missing and what could be repaired.

Try keeping the same event in the record without a final verdict. Replace “I'm unbearable” with “I interrupted several times at dinner; I was nervous and trying to keep their attention.” There is now a particular action to reconsider. There may have been other conversations that day which went quite differently.

Daniel notices Bridget, flirts and keeps the game going. After family assessments and her own complaints, his attention can feel like long-awaited confirmation that she is attractive. His wit helps her see herself as a participant in a desirable story, rather than someone with nothing new to report about her personal life.

Daniel is also her boss. Their office correspondence takes place between people with unequal workplace authority, and the film turns it into romantic comedy. Today, the scene also raises a question about the freedom to decline: could Bridget stop the flirtation without worrying about her job? Mutual attraction alone does not settle that question.

When dishonesty emerges in his account of events, Bridget has grounds to reconsider the relationship. Diagnosing Daniel is unnecessary. We can examine what he said, what he concealed and whether his next commitment can be trusted. Misplaced trust does not make her responsible for someone else's dishonesty.

Mark initially seems cold and superior. His awkwardness in conversation is easily understood as a judgment of Bridget, particularly when she already expects to be judged. The film gradually revises this impression, asking both its heroine and its audience to reconsider what they thought they knew.

When Mark says he likes her as she is, Bridget is surprised. In her familiar logic, affection ought to arrive after the improvements: fewer unnecessary words, a different appearance, better behaviour. Here, someone has noticed her before she has finished that endless list.

The scene is touching, but I would not want to make Mark the authority who grants permission for self-respect. His affection matters to their relationship; Bridget's relationship with herself requires more than a well-timed line from a man. Feelings also leave responsibility for actions intact. Someone can be loved while learning to listen, negotiate and acknowledge a mistake.

Bridget cooks a birthday dinner, but the soup turns blue. It is almost perfect material for another entry about her inadequacy: she wanted to make something lovely and produced another comic disaster. The people at the table, however, see more than the result of her cooking.

Her friends stay, and Mark helps in the kitchen. The evening continues. A failed dish does not automatically become a failed relationship. For me, this scene conveys acceptance more persuasively than general approval: a particular thing has gone wrong, and people can tolerate it alongside their host.

Friendship deserves attention in its own right. Bridget already has people with whom she can discuss the day, argue, laugh and celebrate. If we count only romantic achievements, it becomes easy to erase those relationships and describe her life as empty. The film itself shows how much is already happening in it.

The voice-over brings us close to Bridget: we hear thoughts unavailable to the other characters. Music expands the scale of her feelings, while editing can quickly place a grand resolution beside another unsuccessful attempt. The result is the recognisable humour of someone who can observe herself even while feeling awkward.

The 2001 comedy also repeatedly returns to weight, appearance and the fear of remaining single. Some jokes may now be irritating precisely because they reinforce the demands that trouble the heroine. It is worth noticing our own response: am I laughing with her at a particular situation, or agreeing that her body and relationship status are inherently funny?

Asking this does not prevent us from enjoying the film. It lets us appreciate the performances while reconsidering what the comedy presents as an obvious defect. This matters especially when familiar jokes later reappear in our own diary entries.

Near the end, Mark reads Bridget's entries, and she interprets his departure as a sign that the relationship is lost. It subsequently turns out that he has gone to buy a new diary. Once again, the comedy separates an event from the conclusion she has drawn about it.

The warm ending nevertheless leaves a question about privacy. People may write down anger, change their minds or exaggerate after a difficult evening. Intimacy does not automatically give a partner the right to know everything. A real couple could discuss whether personal journals may be read and allow a refusal without treating it as proof of dishonesty.

The new diary can suggest a way of continuing her account without demanding that she immediately become somebody else. I would like Bridget's next entries to include her friends at the table, her decisions at work and what she herself thinks about Mark. Then the romantic ending would not consume the rest of her life.

Choose a scene in which Bridget seemed particularly embarrassing. What did she actually do? Did it cause harm, or did you simply want her to make a better impression? Which rule about a “normal adult” did you apply to her, and do you apply it to yourself?

Return to one diary entry or a familiar statement about yourself. Which words describe an event, and which immediately judge your entire character? In the EQ emotions journal, you can separate the situation, feelings and expectations. For the thought “If I behave awkwardly, nobody can love me,” CBT SHIFT, Part 1 provides space to examine evidence, exceptions and a more accurate formulation. This is written reflection on a particular experience, without a promise to change your relationship with yourself in one evening. The photographed product pages are in Ukrainian.

One further question: if you could not mention weight or relationship status in today's entry, what would remain to tell? Perhaps there are events there that have been short of attention for a long time.

Credits, poster and stills: Working Title Films and Miramax. For comparison with the dramatic structure, see the shooting draft dated 8 May 2000; this is an early document and may differ from the completed film. The psychological interpretations in this article are the author's readings of the characters' behaviour.