Talk about a movie for which I’m really not the target audience! I mean, BRIDGET JONES’S DIARY is based on the novel that sort of started the whole chick-lit movement (and I mean no offense by that, I’m just using it as a publishing term), it’s got a bunch of British people, and one Texan pretending to be British, in it (and I mean no offense by that, either, I’m just not British), and nothin’ blows up real good (although, surprisingly, there is a decent fistfight). But darned if it didn’t win me over with good writing and fine performances by Renee Zellweger, Colin Firth, and Hugh Grant (the latter two of which aren’t favorites of mine, but they’re good in this movie). The music is really good, too, heavy on the Van Morrison (hard to go wrong with that). So, before I set a record for parenthetical asides in one blog post, I liked BRIDGET JONES’S DIARY, and I’d say that if you haven’t seen it and don’t think you’d like it, it might surprise you.