Do you know how long it's been since I've snorted from laughter in public? I haven't snorted from laughter in public in a very long time. And yet here comes Spy, Melissa MacCarthy's new comedy with Bridesmaids director Paul Feig, slashing a great big red X through my lasting snortless lifestyle. There's actually only one part that got me, that pushed me over the edge from respectable, polite public laughter into the guy everybody's heads snap towards, and it's thanks to Rose Byrne, who delivers a deadpan mommy soliloquy with acidic bitch precision. She proves once again she's every comedy's secret weapon, millimeter nimble with body language like a tightrope walker - she can stretch the laugh from just the arch of an eye from here to infinity, and back, while yawning.
This is Melissa McCarthy's movie though and she's a pip like you've never seen her before - okay okay so you've seen some of it before. The coarse language and clumsiness, sure. But the character of Susan Cooper's so much more than a blank canvas for buffoonery a la yet another Tammy - she's smart and capable and under-appreciated, and while it's probably tough to call McCarthy "under-appreciated" given how much money she's making with anything she touches these days I still think she needs even more appreciation. We're gosh-darn lucky to have her.