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In the present, Jim Broadbent is nothing special -- just a doughy, middle-aged British gent who plays a lot of dads and dad-ish types. And we have a soft spot for those characters -- a spot as soft as their own spongy British bellies. Bridget Jones's dad Colin is integral to Bridget Jones's Diary, which would risk sliding into fatuous irrelevance if not for the scenes between Colin and Bridget (Renée Zellweger), where we see that she can display concern about a human being other than herself. Colin is also practically the only character in the film for whom we feel any real empathy, given that he's the only one whose misfortunes aren't all just his own stupid fault. Broadbent is also twinkly and similarly named as Col, the wise bartender in The Crying Game -- he's so kind and accepting that he's even nice to trannies! -- and as John Bayley, the long-suffering husband in Iris. Lovely fellows. We'd be happy to have grandfathers like them. Little boring.

Films and TV shows set in the past, fortunately, give Broadbent more to sink his teeth into, and allow him to stretch as an actor beyond patting hysterical blondes on the head when they get blue or offering faintly ironic advice to sad-eyed Irish terrorists pondering unconventional romances. Broadbent does occasionally play perfectly upright, moral olden-days characters -- Prince Albert in Blackadder's Christmas Carol. W.S. Gilbert in Topsy-Turvy -- but generally he puts on his baddie face at the same time he puts on his knee-length breeches. In Moulin Rouge!, Broadbent is Harry Zidler, impresario of the titular burlesque house. Which basically means he's a glorified pimp. He has a peculiarly paternal attitude toward his show's sparkling diamond, Satine (Nicole Kidman), putting on her frail, tubercular shoulders the responsibility of keeping the business alive; because of his fatherly manner toward her, the scene in which he explains Satine's absence at a planned assignation with the Moulin's patron by performing a spirited "Like a Virgin" is really very disturbing, and not only because he performs it in an improvised bridal veil and a huge orange moustache. Although that's the image that still wakes us up screaming from time to time.

But that character, at least, was only depraved in a limited setting; Boss Tweed (in Gangs of New York) is corrupt in public office, pretty much openly soliciting the help of known pre-Mafia criminals to secure his position, trying to buy immigrants' votes with bread, and keeping an unseemly number of birds in his office. I mean, honestly -- in the movies, the only people that into their pets are supervillains.

At the moment, Broadbent is doing his thing in two movies set in yesteryear -- Vanity Fair and Bright Young Things. If you wish to see only one and are looking to make the most of your Broadbent period-movie dollar, consider: Vanity Fair has Reese Witherspoon doing an anachronistic Bollywood number, attempting a British accent, and generally acting as though she thinks she's in Emma, the dark, satiric elements of the story completely flying over her head. Whereas Bright Young Things has Broadbent playing "Drunk Major." You're welcome.