Needed: More edge, less reason

Bridget Jones's Diary was a near-flawless and thoroughly entertaining movie experience, with a script awash in witty dialogue, charm, creatively realistic situations and armed with comedic edge to spare. Unfortunately, all of the above attributes have been replaced in this second outing with triteness, predictability and, worst of all, lack of any edge whatsoever. The ace in the hole here, of course, is still Renee Zellweger's magnificent, heartfelt portrayal of the title character, which saves said sequel from being a complete waste of talent, energy and, ultimately, time.

It starts out encouragingly enough, with Bridget joyously savoring her love affair with Mark Darcy (the always-appealing Colin Firth), but then the rot sets in - literally (in their relationship, when she realizes that Darcy's a snob and a twit in oh, so many ways) and figuratively (in the exceedingly trite and tedious plot, which eventually winds up including -=- SPOILER ALERT -=- Bridget's stint in a Thai jail and lesbian overtures from a colleague of Darcy's) -=- END OF SPOILER -=-, all accompanied by the most un-subtle soundtrack in the annuls of recent movie history.

Number of cigarettes needed to sit through this bit of a sticky wicket: 2 packs.

Number of alcoholic beverages needed to accompany said ciggies: innumerable.

My rating: 4 (equivalent to 2 stars).

Leaving the theatre with my sanity still intact: PRICELESS.