The Heat

Let me just say upfront: The Heat is Melissa McCarthy and Sandra Bullock at their most unfiltered, and for better or worse, that’s really the whole appeal here. Directed by Paul Feig, this buddy cop comedy landed in 2013 and quickly carved out a spot in my list of comfort watches, even though it’s rough around the edges. The basic premise is that Bullock plays a tightly-wound FBI agent with the people skills of a wet sock, while McCarthy is a Boston cop who makes “unconventional” look like an understatement. The pair gets stuck together tracking down a dangerous drug lord, and the culture clash is honestly hilarious, at least at first.

What works best in The Heat is the comic chemistry between the two leads. Bullock’s straight-laced routine was already well-established, but pairing her with McCarthy’s firehose energy somehow feels fresh, even as it leans into the usual odd-couple beats. There’s this one scene, set in a dive bar, where both actresses just go for it with physical comedy and escalating absurdity. It’s such a mess, but it’s irresistible. You can tell Feig let his actors off the leash and it pays off more often than not.

The script, though, is another story. There are moments when you feel the writers just let McCarthy improv way past the point of coherence, and some jokes beat the same horse till it turns to glue. The Boston accents are also a little hit-or-miss, which would be distracting if the movie weren’t so committed to just barreling through any awkwardness with sheer energy. It’s loud, it’s messy, and not all of it lands, so your mileage may vary depending on how much you enjoy shouting matches punctuated by creative cursing.

Tonally, it sits squarely in that R-rated, adult-goofy zone. Think Bridesmaids, but with more guns and less wedding-related hysteria. Some scenes mine real laughs from just how oblivious both characters are to their own flaws. There’s genuine enjoyment in watching Bullock’s character slowly unravel, and McCarthy is magnetic as always, whether she’s trash-talking perps or secretly being competent beneath the vulgarity. Still, there are sections that feel padded, especially in the middle third, where the pacing lags and you start noticing the two-hour runtime more than you should.

I wouldn’t say there’s a lot of visual flair here. The cinematography is workmanlike, which is typical for this kind of comedy, but I did notice that it keeps the action feeling lively. Quick cuts and handheld shots during car chases and footraces help, and the camera always gives its stars room to play off each other physically. None of the action sequences are memorable, but the movie knows that its main draw is mid-argument slapstick, not shootouts.

Supporting cast is solid but underused. Marlon Wayans does his straight-man routine capably enough. There are a few Boston locals in bit roles that add flavor, but the script doesn’t let anyone besides Bullock and McCarthy truly shine. With so much focus on the leads, you almost forget there’s an actual plot happening—though, to be fair, the plot is basically window dressing for the comedy.

There’s more emotional weight here than I expected, considering how much of the movie is taken up by insult ping-pong. You get glimpses of both characters’ struggles—Bullock’s professional loneliness, McCarthy’s messy family issues—which add just enough heart to keep the film from feeling empty. It’s not particularly deep, but the scenes where they bond over being outsiders are surprisingly sweet. Those moments help justify some of the slapstick excess, even if they never fully cash in on the characters’ emotional arcs.

Overall, The Heat is consistently funny if you’re in the mood for something aggressive and irreverent, plus it’s a rare studio comedy led entirely by women who get to be loud, ridiculous, and a little bit gross. It overstays its welcome and some recurring bits get tired, but honestly, if you watch it with a friend and a drink, you won’t care. Not a classic, but when it’s firing, it’s genuinely funny.