Hot, Delicious Fuzz

Hot Fuzz is the second film from writing team Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright, with Wright directing and Pegg starring in each one, the first being the delightful send-up of zombie flicks, Shaun of the Dead.

In the same spirit as Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz sends up police-buddy action flicks, even stopping to name names (Bad Boys II and Point Break get their comeuppance). But Pegg’s and Wright’s style of send-up is stylized in a manner that makes the writing and plotline less obvious than, say, the Scary Movie franchise. I don’t mean that it’s difficult to tell what’s funny; rather, I can watch Shaun and Hot Fuzz without feeling like my junior high self could have written it.

What’s especially smart about these films is that they don’t stand in judgment over that which they lambaste. Instead of giving the impression that we should be somehow ‘above’ or too sophisticated for senseless explosions and brain-eating, Pegg and Wright encourage us to participate in the very movies that are the butts of their jokes. In fact, familiarity with the movies being made fun of is something of a prerequisite, in much the same way The Simpsons requires its viewers to bring a good deal of pop culture and political savvy to the tube each week.

If we’re laughing at people who enjoy Point Break, we’re laughing at ourselves. Pegg and Wright know that these cheese-fests often deliver some pretty slick production value and tap into an escapism that we, perhaps, shouldn’t always be so apologetic for or embarrassed about enjoying. And their movies, in turn, deliver a similarly slick production of action and cheese that buttresses the perfectly-timed comedy.

None of the jokes work without sincerity. Not only are Pegg and Wright interested in green-lighting our sincere enjoyment of Bad Boys II or Point Break, but they also depend heavily on our acceptance of the sincerity of Sergeant Nicholas Angel (Pegg) and his partner Danny Butterman (Nick Frost). If we don’t believe that Angel is an obssessive cop nearly devoid of humor and Butterman a loyal dolt lovable enough to teach Angel the sweetness of simplicities, then the jokes aren’t funny.

With a plotline so atrociously conventional, Hot Fuzz assumes the position du jour for social critique: inside. Anyone can stand to the side and thumb her nose at the gaggle of gratuity that passes by, but the more credible and sympathetic reading of popular culture comes from within. Worried about the heavy production and machinery of rock? Listen through the amalgam of sound to Radiohead’s Kid A. Wondering about the misogynism of hip-hop? Check out Talib Kweli or Mos Def. Working out the implications of commodification and the ever-broiling debate between art and entertainment in the world of popular culture? Watch Hot Fuzz.

Or maybe you just want a laugh. Whatever your reason, Johnny Utah wants you to ‘Vaio con dios.’