The Heat
(2013)
I suppose it’s good and all to get a female buddy cop movie,
one that turns out to be a big hit, as studios continue to slowly recognise there’s an eager
demographic they haven’t been catering for. Except that it’s not so good when
that movie is as tiresome as The Heat.
Sure, it’s nothing new for the genre to coast on star appeal rather than
anything approaching a robust and well-written script with gags that are other
than improvised (or ticking all the gross out boxes that are so “Dawn of Apatow”,
but really post-Farrellys). But is that really a worthy goal? Was anyone really
satisfied with this, lazily relying on the resurging cachet of Sandy Buttocks
and Melissa McCarthy’s see-her-in-anything window? Director Paul Feig certainly
shouldn’t be, since it’s a massive step down from his movie-career making and
McCarthy’s star making Bridesmaids.
The broad genre-plundering comedy often comes unstuck,
refraining from Naked Gun-esque
wholesale self-consciousness but settling instead on threadbare plots and fancy
dress. Murphy’s first couple of cop outings succeeded because they threw his
persona into vaguely plausible surroundings. The alternative is to play it
large, which often means just going for lazy shit; see Police Academy. The Heat
has far more in common with that than even the broadest of recent entries in
the genre (Rush Hour, for example). 21 Jump
Street surfs similar territory of tonal largess, but is much more focussed
in terms of targets and plotting (and much funnier).
It would be churlish to begrudge the leads this success.
Bullock’s never had much in the way of quality control but, as nice as it is to
see an actress into her 50s pulling audiences on star power alone, it has to be
acknowledged that the main reason this did so well is McCarthy. Like any number
of comedians (and comediennes) getting their first taste of big screen success,
audiences currently can’t get enough of her.
Let me rephrase that; US audiences currently can’t get enough of her.
Yes, it’s the turbulent time some US comics have internationally. Both Bullock
and McCarthy had another hit movie each last year. Sandy in the Oscar-nominated
worldwide smash Gravity. McCarthy had
Identity Thief, which was only really
seen in the States. The Heat did okay
internationally, but took significantly less than half its homegrown plunder.
And, while it’s going swimmingly for McCarthy right now, it can’t be long
before she has her Cable Guy moment.
It’s inevitable. Feig clearly thinks she’s gold dust, as he’s lining up – yes –
a spy spoof next. No doubt McCarthy will fart and belch and saying revolting
things while making a virtue of lacking the average spy’s athleticism as she
proves she really is a very good agent.
She comes up with some decent routines here, but there are
more that miss the target. That’s inevitable when you have an improv-inclined director letting
the camera run and run (Feig also makes a cameo). The plot is peanuts; McCarthy’s slobbish cop
(but a good cop!) and Bullock’s anal FBI agent (but a good FBI agent!) team up
for a comedy of differences in order to nail the nefarious drug lord. Inevitably
they become best of chums. McCarthy stole the show in Bridesmaids (as wonderful as Kristen Wiig is in EVERYTHING), but
part of that was a result of bringing her down-to-earth, salty rotundity to a
proper character-based comedy. Here, she and Bullock are supported by the
thinnest of crutches so the rest of the movie, on her part at least, is a lot
of shouting and saying “Look at me!” even when it (frequently) isn’t adding
anything.
The movie’s at its worst when it’s indulgent, not because it
goes beyond taste boundaries but because it tries too hard to shock or offend
or just plain doesn’t know when to shout cut. There’s a severed tongue protruding
from a victim’s arse, a dance montage to Groove
in the Heart that’s interminable (which may be the point, but it isn’t
endearing), a tracheotomy that is textbook-mistaking gross-out for always funny.
Likewise, there’s something distastefully desperate about attempts to eke
laughs from the bad guy getting shot in the dick twice. At least Robocop had some context. And then there are the awful music montages,
the lazy moviemaker’s first port of call. Unfortunately Bullock gets the worst
line, their mission statement, dreadfully delivered (“We’re the fucking Heat!”)
McCarthy does have a string of good lines, but they don’t make a good movie. You can see from the
extensive outtakes she’ll try anything, which is fair enough. It’s Feig’s job
to make them coherent. So the best include “Who
closes the door to take a shit?”, “Who’s
your wife? A five pound bag of flour with a hole in it?” (if in doubt, come
up with an obscure minority to offend; in this case albinos); “Are you okay? You look really pale”), “It’s cheese. Cheese doesn’t go bad”. And
I enjoyed her taking down a drug dealer with a watermelon (“See? I told you you was a racist!”) I
also kind of did like the stabbing in
the leg (“I’ve got to put it back in!”),
even if it qualifies as whoring for grossness.
A few of the supporting cast get a look in. Thomas F. Wilson
(Biff Tannen) plays the overburdened, rather than shouty, police captain, and
Dan Bakkedahl has fun as the albino cop. Tony Hale wishes he'd steered clear of hookers. Michael Rapaport is still getting
work, it seems. There’s also a subdued Marlon Wayans on winning form (although
take a look at the outtakes and you’ll quickly find yourself reconsidering his
charms). You won’t care about the villains, or who their boss guy is, though. You
wont even care when a terribly forced moment causes our buddies to fall out,
only to make up five minutes later.
McCarthy clearly revels in this kind of mediocrity, and
because of her “Don’t give a shit” attitude comes out of it fairly unaffected
(other than the cumulative message not to go and see another of her crappy
movies). It’s Sandy I feel for. She’s such a good sport, and strolls through
all the crudity and obscene language like a trooper, but it isn’t really her
thing. Not that she needs to go off and purify herself with a romcom, but the
effect isn’t so much one of mucking in as being dragged down to the level of
Feig, McCarthy, et al. On the other
hand, the prospect of McCarthy sharing a scene with Jason Statham (in the
forthcoming Spy) just seems perfect.
Of course, it will most likely also go on about 40 minutes longer than
necessary.
**
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