There are really only two things to discuss when it comes to Hot Pursuit. The first is the fact it’s produced by, directed by and starring women. This is the kind of progressive feature we’ve been looking for in Hollywood and Reese Witherspoon is clearly a frontrunner for the cause following her producer credit on two of last year’s Oscar-nominated films — Gone Girl and Wild. Of course, the other talking point is Hot Pursuit is absolutely terrible, which then, sadly, begins to overshadow any progress it may represent. This, of course, is coming from the perspective of a man. Comedy lands differently for everyone and perhaps it’s that Y chromosome that’s causing me so much trouble, because instead of laughing I was burying my face in my hands, amazed at how long 87 minutes began to feel.
From Anne Fletcher, the director that brought us Step Up, 27 Dresses and The Proposal, and written by a couple of fellas (David Feeney and John Quaintance) more seasoned in writing schlocky teleplays for the likes of “New Girl“, “2 Broke Girls” and “Joey“, Hot Pursuit is rather indicative of the preceding work of its creators. Witherspoon produces and stars alongside Sofia Vergara (who also gets an exec producing credit) in a story about an uptight cop (Witherspoon) charged with the care of a drug lord’s wife (Vergara) who’s scheduled to testify to bring a drug kingpin down, if only they can cross the Texas landscape and make it to Dallas before they’re killed. “Hilarity” ensues…
Witherspoon puts on a Texas accent and attitude that begins to grate almost immediately while Vergara is doing her standard schtick, which was funny the first time you heard it 6-12 years ago depending on whether it was Chasing Papi or “Modern Family” that served as your introduction. Jokes such as Witherspoon’s height and the ever-changing reporting of Vergara’s age are quickly beaten into the ground as these two bicker and fight at an ear-piercing level for nearly the entire 87-minute running time. We’re never afforded a break.
What makes it all worse are two moments — one comedic, one serious — where we’re witness to what might have been had this not been written by a pair of sitcom writers and instead screenwriters invested in the characters on screen, playing to their strengths, hidden or otherwise.
Witherspoon has taken her stabs at comedy and landed big with Legally Blonde and impressed with the Election, but I’ve never found her to be out-and-out funny, though she is talented when given good material. So when this film tries to play to strengths she doesn’t necessarily possess — clinging to the annoyingly, uptight, by-the-book angle — there is only so far for her to go. This is why in moments when she breaks character — a possible tryst with a convicted felon and a taser callback, followed by a fire extinguisher knockout — actually work. Vergara is in similar territory. You can only be the whiny drug lord’s wife for so long, which is why when her character undergoes a shift a little over midway through she suddenly becomes far more interesting.
Hot Pursuit is played as a broad comedy, because it’s assumed that’s where the box office money is at, but success here would have been found in dark comedy. Witherspoon is certainly up for it and there is more to Vergara than we’ve seen and I have to assume someone will take advantage of it soon enough based on her character’s shift here. It’s just a shame we have to endure this mess to get to it.
It’s equally a shame Witherspoon would use her powers for good with this. I guess I assumed, following the success and presumed trajectory of her future as both star and producer, this is the kind of movie Witherspoon would be moving away from. It appeared she’d be the one to see what others are overlooking in Vergara and find the right role for her that isn’t the cliche she’s become.
Even fans of last year’s The Heat (of which I don’t claim membership) won’t find similar enjoyment in this one and if they do walkaway with a positive impression, it will still fall below the mediocre bar that film set. Some may attempt to call this slapstick and if that’s the case it’s a failed attempt. I couldn’t get away from this one fast enough, and I only wish Witherspoon and Vergara had been equally inclined and now that it’s over I hope they see the error in their ways.
In the end I do wonder, is my inability to connect to the so-called comedy in this film a result of me being a man? If so, does it say anything that it was written by two men? It’s impossible, really, to know for sure, but I can’t betray my instincts which say this is just a terrible film and leave the rest for others to argue over.
