REVIEW - THE HEAT

They don't come much more bankable than Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy - I guess that's why The Heat is pretty much dedicated to (and dependent upon) their comedic capabilities. This film has a paper-thin plot, but it's a plot nevertheless; it wastes no time whatsoever elaborating on details or filling in blank spots, instead, Paul Feig trims away all the fat and produces, essentially, a documentary about what happened this one time Bullock and McCarthy got together and made a film about cops. You know, it works. Each lead actor has one job to do, and each lead actor does that job exceptionally well. After over an hour and a half watching these two wring as much comic juice out of their one joke each as possible, you might not care quite how well they've done, but I did note that the amount of milage achieved by both Bullock and McCarthy was considerably higher than I had expected. Sandra is particularly sharp with the one-liners and physical comedy; when McCarthy starts straining for a punchline that won't arrive, and drags an improv scene on way past its limit, she falters, but she's otherwise on very sure footing here. Two thirds in, the film does the inevitable and splits the pair for the requisite emotional bit where they both almost give up, and you'll wish that writer Katie Dippold had less respect for the formula she's half-assedly parodying: The Heat hasn't earned the emotion it demands at this point, and the slog through the narrative demands in the final third offers Bullock and McCarthy few opportunities to keep comedic spirits high. It's here that you notice the film beyond these two, and just how flimsy it is - so what if it never purported to be anything greater? Sandra and Melissa are capable of greater, as they so doggedly prove in this very film, so why not just let the plot rot and keep that lens focused square on them? This is an unfortunately big niggle in an otherwise amiable film, gifted with two actors worthy of better material.