If you’re a fan of Melissa McCarthy, watching her career has
been a frequently frustrating experience. Yes, she’s found success as an
actress — starring in an impressive string of box office hits — but in each of
these films, she’s called upon to play characters who are dowdy, bumbling,
crass, bullying, or some combination of each; the single word that best defines
her roles to date is “abrasive.” But in interviews, the actress comes across as
smart, pretty, and charming; qualities she’s rarely, if ever, allowed to
display on screen. McCarthy herself seems unsure exactly what audiences want
from her, as evinced by the lackluster results from her turn as writer and
producer of last summer’s cringe-inducing comedy “Tammy,” directed by her
husband Ben Falcone.
Thank God
for Paul Feig. Finally there’s someone out there who knows how to utilize
McCarthy’s considerable talents. Following three successful collaborations
together (after “Bridesmaids” — which earned McCarthy an Oscar
nomination — and “The Heat”) Feig’s written
the excellent “Spy” expressly for McCarthy, giving her one of her
best roles to date, and thankfully keeping the “fat lady fall down”
humor to a minimum.
McCarthy
plays Susan Cooper, a meek, mild-mannered CIA analyst whose job is to provide
ground support to super-spy Bradley Fine (Jude Law). Excellent at what she
does, she’s also hopelessly in love with the dashing agent, though he remains either
oblivious or deliberately keeping her at bay. But when Fine is executed during
a mission by a Bulgarian arms dealer named Rayna Boyanov
(Rose Byrne), it’s revealed that Boyanov has come
into possession of the names of the CIA’s active field agents. With all the top
agents compromised, a new strategy is needed. Having had plans to become an
agent herself before Fine convinced her that her talents would best be employed
behind a desk, Susan is technically field-certified, and persuades her superior
(Allison Janney) to send her to Europe to track (but not engage with) Boyanov.
Expecting to
be provided the sort of glamorous identities typically given to CIA agents,
she’s instead saddled with frumpy divorcees and cat ladies — personas that
reveal a little too precisely how she’s seen by those around her (“I look like
somebody’s homophobic aunt!” she complains at one point); her weapons are
disguised as anti-fungal spray, hemorrhoid ointments, and stool softeners. While
these moments earn laughs, Feig and McCarthy don’t hesitate revealing how much
Susan is hurt by the way she’s constantly being sold short. She’s also given
support in the form of her office friend, Nancy (Miranda Hart).
Contrary to
expectation, the central joke of the film doesn’t arise from Susan’s ineptness,
but from the way she rises to the occasion. She’s inexperienced, but extremely
capable, and watching her excel is immensely satisfying. Susan finding her
self-confidence after hearing for far too long that she isn’t capable of more,
provides the film a nice emotional core around which to build the comedy. In
many ways the plot doubles as a bit of commentary on how Hollywood has used
McCarthy’s talents over the years. That McCarthy is great isn’t much of a
surprise, and Feig allows her the opportunity to show her range as she cycles
through each new identity.
But the real
comedic revelation of the film is Jason Statham, playing CIA agent Rick Ford
(Jason Statham), who’s so incensed by Susan’s promotion that he goes rogue in
protest, popping up at inconvenient moments to interrupt her mission and
boasting about his absurdly badass past exploits.
I’ve
complained before in these pages about the dismal visual state of American
comedies, and “Spy” does nothing to change this. This modern era of comedy
tends to rely heavily on dialogue for laughs — which isn’t a bad thing, but
when there are so many methods that can be utilized to generate laughs, why
limit yourself? The concept of “Spy” isn’t too far removed from something like
“Hot Fuzz,” playing with the tropes of a specific genre, but Feig isn’t nearly
the visual stylist that Edgar Wright is. But to be fair, “Spy” does demonstrate
a marked improvement, and the action sequences are competently staged. McCarthy
even gets a Jackie Chan-esque scene of hand-to-hand
combat that’s just great.
Where Feig’s
genius lies is in his work with actors. He finds room for each of his
performers to get moments to shine. Statham shows off previously untapped
comedic skills, while Rose Byrne nearly walks off with the movie. Hair piled
high and a constant expression somewhere between boredom and having just
smelled something awful, she’s the film’s MVP. By its end, “Spy” seems to be
setting itself up sequels, so it appears that McCarthy may be getting her own, tailor-made
franchise, and nothing would make me happier.
This article appears in Jun 10-16, 2015.
