Bridget Jones and Daniel Cleaver Were the Real Love Story

Renée Zellweger as Bridget Jones and Hugh Grant as Daniel Cleaver. Credit - Universal Pictures; Universal/Everett; Miramax/Everett

“You appear to have forgotten your skirt. Is skirt off sick?” This one question, asked by Daniel Cleaver of the titular character in Bridget Jones’ Diary, kick-started a doomed office romance that by today’s enlightened standards would, at best, constitute a serious HR meeting and, at worst, get Cleaver blacklisted for eternity. But in the 2001 film based on Helen Fielding’s hit novel of the same name, the question—expertly delivered by a cheekily caddish Hugh Grant—only cemented Cleaver’s status as the film franchise’s charming bad boy, or as Renée Zellweger’s Bridget calls him, the “King of F-ckwittage.”

Cleaver’s list of misdemeanors toward Bridget is arguably too long to recall here, but it includes abandoning her right before a tarts and vicars party (yes, such gatherings were once perceived as a fun trend in Britain) thus leaving her alone dressed as a Playboy bunny; unashamedly cheating on her with “Lara from the New York office;” lying about his part in breaking up a marriage; and then crawling back to her just as she’s in the process of moving on and forgetting about him. And that’s just in the first film. The second installment, 2004’s Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, sees him cowardly turning the other way when Bridget is apprehended by armed police as she attempts to board a flight home from Thailand. Admittedly, the legal tussle itself has nothing to do with Daniel, but it doesn’t make his failure to help any less dastardly. This moral clarity is pointed out by none other than Bridget’s other love interest, her eventual husband, Mark Darcy (portrayed by Colin Firth).

If Daniel is a malady, then Mark is the antidote. His stoic—albeit slightly emotionally-stunted—demeanor is the exact opposite of Daniel’s irresistible charisma. The human rights lawyer is everything Bridget needs: a welcome stabilizer to her home-spun chaos. It’s Mark who tells Bridget, “I like you very much, just as you are,” at the precise moment she needs to hear exactly that. As someone who was firmly on Team Darcy from the start, I was among the viewers who drew a hard-won sigh of relief when the pair finally got married at the end of the third film, 2016’s Bridget Jones’ Baby.

But happily-ever-afters don’t always make up a story’s final chapter. When we meet Bridget again in Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy, the fourth and final installment of the franchise releasing on Peacock Feb. 13, she’s a widow raising two young children following Mark’s death, four years prior, on a humanitarian mission in Sudan. The “All by Myself” mantra of the first film rings true once more, as a 50-something Bridget sits solo on the couch, desperately trying to remember her Netflix password while envying those couples who, having successfully logged into the platform, are partaking in Netflix and chill. Still in the throes of grief, Bridget has yet to return to the dating scene and is, at first, repelled by the thought of it. While she might be alone in the romantic sense, she’s not isolated at all, as the mom of two has a rather impressive support network to bolster her up. And, in news that might both delight and surprise viewers, Daniel is a significant part of the emotional clean-up crew.

It’s “Uncle Daniel” who drops by to babysit in the opening scene when Bridget attends a dinner party, one of her first big social outings since Mark’s death. He’s late. In fact, he’s almost forgotten the commitment altogether, too distracted by his latest 20-something girlfriend’s terrible open mic poetry reading. But as soon as Bridget calls to remind him, he jumps straight in his car and arrives at her door. The ex-boyfriend, not-quite-reformed cad is reliable, in his own way. Although he won’t be winning any babysitting awards anytime soon—he entertains Bridget’s pre-teen son Billy by teaching him how to make a cocktail called the “Dirty B-tch”—he’s clearly a beloved, and welcome, figure in the Jones-Darcy household.

When Billy is curious about death, it’s Daniel who provides the answers, and a comforting hug. And Daniel is among the chorus of voices who encourages Bridget to move beyond survival mode and get back to living. While it may seem outlandish that the man once responsible for breaking her heart is urging her to open it up once more, it’s clear that Daniel cares deeply for Bridget, far more as a friend than he ever did in the romantic sense. In fact, without sex getting in the way, there’s nothing polluting the love that runs deep in their matured relationship.

While their friendship has aged responsibly, Daniel hasn’t. He’s still dating a revolving door of women, showing very little interest in any of them. He’s in shock that his ex-partner and the mother of his teenage son left him after he slept with her sister. (“It was only the once!”) As a result of the estrangement, Daniel hasn’t seen his son in over a decade. He’s pushed everyone who meant something to him away. Everyone except Bridget, that is. So when he ends up in the hospital with a heart murmur, it’s Bridget who receives the call as his emergency contact. It’s a sobering moment that shows the two have not only built a friendship, but have become chosen family.

Many rom-coms are hyper-fixated on the physical relationships between their leads. Mad About the Boy does have its fair share of lustful moments—Bridget has a dalliance and sexual reawakening with 20-something Roxster, portrayed by The White Lotus’ Leo Woodall, before moving her attention to Mr. Wallaker, her son’s teacher, portrayed by Chiwetel Ejiofor. But they are merely the supporting players in a story about friendship. Mad About the Boy recognizes the often overlooked fact that sometimes our most intimate relationships are the ones that have never, or no longer, involve a physical component. There are certain parts of yourself that you may shield from a romantic partner, those corners of your soul reserved only for your truly platonic friends, even if they were once a bedmate.

There’s a refreshing lack of judgment between Bridget and Daniel. They’ve both found a safe space within the other. And this is nothing new. During the early stages of their workplace romance, Bridget is unabashedly herself with Daniel. He doesn’t mind that she pays more attention to celebrity gossip than the political conflict unfolding in Chechnya. And unlike those moments we witnessed along the way between Bridget and Mark, during which, at one point, she tried to mold herself into a prim and proper, socially acceptable lawyer’s girlfriend, she’s always been able to let loose around Daniel. It didn’t lend anything to their ill-fated romance, but it’s a key reason why their friendship works. In the present day, Bridget doesn’t judge Daniel when they discuss his estrangement from his son, she simply encourages him to bridge the gap. Something he does go on to do, inspired by the way Bridget’s children look at her.

On paper, it would be easy to hate Daniel. Perhaps we should be appalled by his behavior, especially in today’s post-Me Too era. He's a playboy with a foul mouth, stuck in his womanizing ways. But, owed almost entirely to the layers of genuine care imbued within Grant’s witty portrayal, we see that this playboy has a heart, even if it does murmur. During both screenings I attended for this film, it was Daniel’s one-liners, his unfiltered commentary, that drew the biggest laughs from the mostly millennial audience.

Given their chemistry onscreen, it’s not surprising to learn that Zellweger and Grant have built a firm friendship alongside that of their characters. When being interviewed by Grant earlier this year, Zellweger told him: “You’re hilariously brilliant at everything you hate. And, though you hate humans, you’re a very good and loyal friend. I like you very much.” On screen and off, they remind us of the value of platonic relationships, which studies have found can lead to a longer life. The movie’s release one day before Valentine’s Day, on the platonic Palentine’s Day and the Parks and Rec-spawned Galentine’s Day, reinforces its very message.

Although Bridget and Daniel’s short-lived romance was, to use a phrase Ms. Jones would approve of, an absolute clusterf-ck, the friendship they have since built far transcends anything that happened in the bedroom. It was love, actually, after all. Just not in the way 32-year-old Bridget—and we, the audience—originally thought.

Write to Olivia-Anne Cleary at olivia-anne.cleary@time.com.