‘Endearing and enduring’: why Hot Fuzz is my feelgood movie

3 hours ago 7

With the endless library of films we all have at our fingertips, in our DVD collections and on whatever the cloud is, finding your top feelgood movie can be a deceptively hard task. Though it seems obvious now, mine was so familiar to me that somehow it managed to hide in plain sight. Eventually, I had to ask my partner what she thought my comfort movie was. She answered decisively: Hot Fuzz. And she’s absolutely right. How could it not be?

Hot Fuzz is Edgar Wright’s second entry in his Cornetto trilogy, preceded by the cult classic Shaun of the Dead and followed by pub crawl alien invasion adventure The World’s End. I’m not convinced Hot Fuzz is Wright’s best film – it’s not even my favourite. But as far as feelgood movies go, it’s unbeatable.

Our story unfolds in the sleepy West Country village of Sandford and follows fish-out-of-water city cop Sergeant Angel teaming up with local buffoon PC Danny Butterman to investigate a string of mysterious deaths. It’s a love letter to buddy cop movies and the action genre as a whole. It’s so funny, it’s so daft, and it’s so smart.

The film stars Edgar Wright’s usual suspects, Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, who are always the promise of a good time, but here they’re just the cusp of a nebula of British comedy stars. In its joyous opening scene, Hot Fuzz generously offers up the triple treat of Messrs Martin Freeman, Steve Coogan and Bill Nighy as the hierarchy of London’s Police Force (“We’re actually supposed to call it the Police Service now. Official vocab guidelines state that ‘force’ is too aggressive”). Seasoned legends like the delicious Timothy Dalton and unfailing Jim Broadbent share scenes with relative newcomers like the now Oscar-winning Olivia Colman. And, beyond this ample pantheon, even the briefest cameos of enormous names like that of Lord of the Rings director Peter Jackson have wormed their way into the hearts of fans. I find it physically painful to bite my tongue instead of vocalising during a watch-through, “Did you know, it’s actually Cate Blanchett in that forensic suit?!”

Even the village of Sandford becomes a character. It’s charming but uneasy and with danger lurking from its florists to its church fetes. It could easily be any of the number of tiny Cornish parishes I grew up around. And, in a quiet, unassuming countryside community, how exciting it would be to uncover that a killer cult was scheming away to maintain their vision of a “pure” village, clear of “undesirables”. It’s utterly absurd and yet eerily touches so familiarly with an oft-prevalent rural ethos and skepticism masked behind smiles and hospitality. Part of the allure of Hot Fuzz is that it allows you to ruminate on this commentary, but before you do so too deeply, events escalate into a showdown across Sandford’s cobbled streets. Hard cut to the great Battle of Somerfield, which marries the quaint village supermarket with high-octane action rivaling anything from Fast and Furiouses one-through-10. Avengers: Endgame doesn’t hold a candle to the final confrontation in the town’s model village.

Wright’s patented crash zooms, foreshadowing and musicality of course make this movie good, but what makes it feelgood is its slick script, certified A+ for quotability. Invariably, fans will have read the previous paragraphs and unintentionally conjured back dormant, silly phrases. Should you hear the likes of “For the greater good” or “It’s just the one swan actually”, you’re part of a heartwarming club.

Hot Fuzz is so endearing and enduring because it responds to so many needs. Want something funny? Something expertly crafted? Something explosive? Something to make you think? Something to switch off to? Somehow Hot Fuzz relentlessly does it all.

It’s why sometimes I feel like this film is directed at me. It speaks, seemingly directly, to my countryside home, my affection for self-aware parodies and the geeky film community. Its quotes and references pop up in conversations constantly. And its DVD became my gift-of-choice for friends – accidentally twice on consecutive Christmases for one pal. Crucially, Hot Fuzz introduced me to Edgar Wright, whom I ended up writing my dissertation about (the Cornetto trilogy box set is a great use of a student loan), and whose guest edit I promoted when I joined the Guardian’s marketing team. You’d be forgiven for thinking by now I should be sick of this movie, its director, even Cornettos. I probably should. But, like the Fuzz in Sandford, they’re inescapable.