At a preview screening in Dublin of Bridget Jones's Diary last week, the audience appeared to be made up of several Bridget clones. That is, attractive, thirtysomething women who looked as though they just might be familiar with the calorie content of the chocolate croissants laid out by the utterly appropriate movie sponsors, Diet Coke. One Bridget showed great restraint by consuming only half a pecan pastry. "VV good," as Ms Jones would have said.

Clutching bottles of low-calorie fizzy pop, we spent the guts of the next two hours in the company of a woman who has become an icon for millions of single, weight-conscious women since Helen Fielding's first Bridget novel was published in 1996. Eternally on a diet, Bridget is convinced that everyone else's existence is perfect - and that hers could be, too, if only she quit the ciggies, reduced her alcohol intake, read books of the non-self-help variety and, most importantly, found A Good Man.

It's the "me-too factor" that had Bridget Jones's Diary and the subsequent Jones epic The Edge of Reason on the best-seller lists for months. The same factor is likely to pack out cinemas, as women empathise with Bridget's wine-fuelled exploits, her bad hair days and the legions of smug marrieds constantly asking about her love life and setting her up with their single male friends.

Those concerned that the flawed heroine would not work when given the big screen treatment should light up a Silk Cut Purple and break out the celebratory chardonnay. The film is absolutely spot-on, from scene one where Bridget (played by Renee Zellweger) slobs, pyjama clad, on her sofa tragically miming along to All By Myself, to the scene where she gets it together with her publisher boss Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant), who discovers that, underneath that sexy little black dress, Bridget is wearing big white control knickers.

Despite the criticism that followed when an American won what is a quintessentially English role, it turns out that Texan actress Zellweger is Bridget Jones. Right down to the rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights expression she wears when she is doing something she knows is awful but can't seem to stop. (Her introductory speech at her company's launch of the book Kafka's Motorbike is priceless.)

Zellweger has moaned widely about the fact that she had to put on two stone to play the part, but in the movie the Jerry Maguire star just looks healthy and gorgeous. She spent a few months working undercover in a London publishing house in preparation for the role, perfecting that Sloaney English accent. One day she bought cakes for someone's birthday, and later said she was amazed when everyone ate them. Apparently, nobody eats cake in Los Angeles. The actress is now back down to an American size six and, disappointingly, has reportedly refused to star in a sequel because it would mean having to pile on the pounds again.

While it may be six years since Helen Fielding's column in the London In- dependent was turned into a book, Bridget's on-screen search for Mr Right is likely also to attract all those young women who missed the fun the first time around. The plot, like the book, is shamelessly cogged from Pride and Prejudice, with the hero (Colin Firth) even called Mr Darcy.

There are those who, when the original book was published, sneered that Bridget had (adopt Germaine Greer style whine), "set the feminist movement back 100 years". These are the same sisters who tut-tutted at the Spice Girls for wearing microminis, while talking about Girl Power. These people should not go and see the film.

But the fact is that Bridget Jones's Diary spawned shelves of hugely popular copy-cat books based on the have-career-and-financial-independence-but-need-a-man-to-complete-me premise. For the same reason, Dublin writer Marian Keyes can't keep up with the demand for her romantic yarns - the first of which was published pre-Bridget Jones - featuring similarly flawed characters who nevertheless manage to get their chap. As a concept it's simple but, like, really real; and whether their bra-burning predecessors approve or not, women "of a certain age" can't seem to get enough.

The Bridget Jones for the new millennium comes in the shapely form of the Manolo Blahnik-wearing brigade in TV's Sex and the City. Unlike Bridget, these Cosmopolitan-sipping Manhattan women have given up the pursuit of A Man and are happy to spend time with Any Man, once he's gone by breakfast.

While ultimately a chick flick, Bridgets who have snared a boyfriend can rest assured that, if dragged along, their Mr Darcys will be entertained too. The Irish premiere takes place today, followed by an intriguing-sounding themed reception. Dress code is informal but stylish - think Bridget on a "v good day". Big knickers optional.

Bridget Jones's Diary goes on general release next Friday, April 13th

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