Sandra Bullock is a highly watchable actress and she seems like she’d be fun to hang out with — I have no idea why I think that; I just do — but, Jesus, how does she choose her movies? With a blindfold and pin? Sure, she won an Oscar for The Blind Side, during which she dragged around that poor black boy as if he were a tired old circus bear, and there was Speed and After You Were Sleeping, but The Proposal? Premonition? Speed 2? Two Weeks Notice? I suppose you think I’m going to add: ‘And now this?’ which I am, although not unreservedly. It’s not all bad. It’s possibly only half bad. Perhaps when she was poised with pin, the blindfold shifted? And she saw out of one eye, at least?
The Heat stars Ms Bullock and Melissa McCarthy as two cops — an FBI agent and a Boston detective — forced to work together, and appears to combine all the mainstream Hollywood formulas there are, or at least three: The Comedy Cop Movie; The Buddy Movie; The Rom-Com. And it follows the first law of each, which is: any two people who hate each other at the beginning must have bonded by the end. This rule will broker no exceptions in the same way, for example, the first law of horror movies brokers no exceptions, and dictates the first noise in the night must always be the cat. These laws are always strictly enforced, and should you break one? Straight to prison, I’m afraid, where, chances are, you’ll discover a scheming warden and at least one brutal guard, but may find respite in the library.
So, from the outset we have Sarah Ashburn (Ms Bullock) and Shannon Mullins (Ms McCarthy) who are, of course, complete opposites.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in