Film >Hot Fuzz
There isn’t a scene in Edgar Wright’s Hot Fuzz that’s as deliriously funny as his minute-long contribution to Grindhouse. Still, Wright affirms his ability to consume, regurgitate and mildly subvert lowbrow movies, just as he did with the zombiefied drollness of Shaun of the Dead and the haunted-house blitzkrieg of his Grindhouse trailer, Don’t. Hot Fuzz takes on the explosive cop actioners in which the Seagals and Van Dammes have long trafficked. Wright situates frequent collaborator Simon Pegg as a workaholic city police whiz who’s promoted to sergeant in a sleepy town, only to discover a covered-up series of ritualistic murders. Cluttered with loud MTV-style montages, Hot Fuzz has more cuts than a slaughterhouse and almost as much blood. The cartoonish hemorrhaging is welcome, though, because Wright finds fresh ways to kill off his characters. The comedy and juvenile cop-flick clichés are less successful. The transitions from satirical laughs to tense humanistic drama (so effortlessly accomplished in Shaun of the Dead) are absent here. Hot Fuzz emulates crap like Bad Boys II so smoothly that it nearly becomes it.