chick flick
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-eight years and a million words
Toronto, 2004.11.20
Saw a hard-core chick-flick today. It was the Bridget Jones sequel. I went for the girlfriend, of course, after having recently assured a friend after he went to The Notebook under similar circumstances that I could no longer be moved to attend such things.
It was about what I expected. Don't think I could write a review, really. What would be the point; "It irritated me intensely at times"? Or, "The only interesting bit was her stint in prison"?
I guess it could have been worse. It wasn't, for instance, the emotional circle-jerk that "Steel Magnolias" is.