Hot Fuzz

Hot Fuzz

Hot Fuzz is a 2007 film directed by Edgar Wright and written by Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright. The plot involves a London Metropolitan Police Officer who is relocated to a small village because of overachieving in his job. However, he soon finds that the village is not as quiet as its records suggest, and that something decidedly sinister is going on amongst the residents.

Genre: Comedy
Director(s): Edgar Wright
Production: Rogue Pictures/Focus Features
  2 wins & 9 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.9
Metacritic:
81
Rotten Tomatoes:
91%
R (Restricted)
Year:
2007
121
$23,618,786
Website
7,761 Views
Big Cops. Small Town. Moderate Violence.
They're bad boys. They're die hards. They're lethal weapons. They're the Fuzz.
Bring the noise.
They're gonna bust your arse.

Nicholas Angel:
[Angel puts some coins in the swear box] LESLIE TILLER WAS F***ING MURDERED!

DC Andy Cartwright:
Just like Tim Messenger?

Nicholas Angel:
Yes!

DS Andy Wainwright:
And George Merchant?

Nicholas Angel:
Yes!

DC Andy Cartwright:
And Eve Draper?

Nicholas Angel:
Yes!

DS Andy Wainwright:
Martin Blower?

Nicholas Angel:
No, actually.

DS Andy Wainwright and DC Andy Cartwright:
Really?

Nicholas Angel:
'COURSE HE F***ING WAS! [Danny puts money in the swear box] Thank you Danny!

DS Andy Wainwright:
Murder, murder, murder. Change the f***in' record! [DC Cartwright puts money in the swear box] Thank you Andy.

Sergeant Tony Fisher:
Come on Sergeant, you've gotta accept that it was just another nasty accident.

Nicholas Angel:
What are you suggesting?! That Leslie Tiller tripped and fell on her own shears?

Seargent Tony Fisher:
Ben Fletcher fell on his pitchfork the other week.

PC Doris Thatcher:
Yeah, accidents happen all the time. What makes you think it was MURDER?

Nicholas Angel:
BECAUSE I WAS THERE!!!

DC Andy Cartwright:
There's a point. Why were you there?

Nicholas Angel:
I was buying... Constable Butterman a Japanese peace lily for his birthday.

DS Andy Wainwright:
What absolute horseshit!

Nicholas Angel:
I chased a suspect from the scene! Innocent people don't run!

Seargent Tony Fisher:
Maybe it was our old friend the Cactus Thief?

PC Doris Thatcher:
Oh yeah, he was a prickly customer, weren't he? Ha ha!

Nicholas Angel:
AM I GOING COMPLETELY MAD?!

DS Andy Wainwright:
[Robert De Niro impression] Maybe you are. Maybe you did it.

DC Andy Cartwright:
Seeing how you're such a big fan of murder!

Nicholas Angel:
WHAT THE F-

Frank Butterman:
Sergeant Angel?

Nicholas Angel:
YES?! [calms down] Sir?

Roy Porter:
Oh come, come Sergeant!

Nicholas Angel:
You should be ashamed! Calling yourself a community that cares!

James Reaper:
Oh, but we do care Nicholas!

Joyce Cooper:
It's all about the greater good!

NWA Members:
[echoing in agreement] The greater good...

Nicholas Angel:
How can this be for the greater good?

NWA Members:
[echoing] The greater good...

Simon Skinner:
You see, much as I enjoyed your wild theories Sergeant, the truth is far less complex. Blower's fate was simply the result of his being... an appalling actor.

NWA Members:
[echoing] Appalling...

Nicholas Angel:
You murdered him for that?

Simon Skinner:
Well, he murdered Bill Shakespeare.

Nicholas Angel:
What? ...Oh.

James Reaper:
The dramatic society is an important feather in our cap.

Dr. Robin Htahcer:
We couldn't let Blower jeopardize that. Not when we had two semi-professionals waiting in the wings.

Simon Skinner:
Let's not forget that Greg was an extra in Straw Dogs and Sherry protrayed a cadaver in Prime Suspect.

Nicholas Angel:
Yes, I know!

Annette Roper:
Martin Blower was less concerned with the reputation of the village than he was with his sordid affair with Eve Draper!

Nicholas Angel:
So Eve deserved to die too?

Dr. Robin Hatcher:
Well, she did have a very annoying laugh.

NWA Members:
[echoing] Annoying...

Nicholas Angel:
George Merchant?

Simon Skinner:
He had an awful house.

NWA Members:
[echoing] Awful...

Roy Porter:
We begged him in vain to make his residence more in keeping with the village's rustic aesthetic.

Nicholas Angel:
And Tim Messenger? What was his crime?

Simon Skinner:
Tim Messenger's tenure as editor of the "Sandford Citizen" has been unbearable!

James Reaper:
Our once great paper had become riddled with tabloid journalism! Not to mention persistent errors!

Roy Porter:
He listed her age as 55!

Mary Porter:
When actually I'm 53!

Nicholas Angel:
What about Leslie Tiller, one of your own? Her horticultural expertise helped put Sandford on the map!

Joyce Cooper:
Oh, she was ever so good...!

Simon Skinner:
Cousin Leslie was a terrible shame...but it seems she was set on moving away.

Tom Weaver:
We couldn't have her sharing her green fingers with anyone else...

Reverend Phillip Shooter:
Not least those heathens at Buford Abbey!

Dr. Robin Hatcher:
If we can't have her, no one can.

Nicholas Angel:
How can this be for the greater good?

NWA Members:
[echoing] The greater good...

Nicholas Angel:
SHUT IT! These people died for no reason! No reason whatsoever!

Inspector Frank Butterman:
I wouldn't say that. [Nicholas turns to see Frank dressed in similar attire to the NWA members and is shocked] Hello Nicholas. I was like you once. I believed in the immutable word of the law. That is until the night Mrs. Butterman was taken from me. You see, no one loved Sandford more than her. She was head of the Women's Institute, chair of the Floral Committee. When they started the Village of the Year Contest, she worked around the clock. I'd never seen such dedication. But on the eve of the adjudicator's arrival, some travelers moved into Calahoo Park, and before you could say gypsy scum we were knee deep in dog muck, thieving kids and crusty jugglers.

NWA Members:
[echoing] Crusty jugglers...

Inspector Frank Butterman:
We lost the title, and Irene lost her mind. She drove her Datsun Cherry into Sandford Gorge... and from that moment on, I swore that I would do her proud and whatever the cost, we would make Sandford great again.

Nicholas Angel:
Sir, this doesn't make any sense.

Inspector Frank Butterman:
The adjudicators arrive tomorrow. We had to get everything ready.

Nicholas Angel:
[disgusted] Are you saying this is all about winning the Best Village award?

Inspector Frank Butterman:
This is the Best Village, Nicholas. You've seen the people. They're happy. Contented.

Nicholas Angel:
They're living in a dream world!

Inspector Frank Butterman:
Sergeant Popwell thought much the same as you. I'm disappointed you can't see the bigger picture.

Nicholas Angel:
Well I'm happy to disappoint you, sir! You're going to have to come with me, you are all going to have to come with me.

Inspector Frank Butterman:
No Nicholas, I'm afraid it is you who is going to have to come with us...

Inspector Frank Butterman:
FREEZE! [the entire Sandford Police force storm into the pub] Officers, arrest this man. Danny, step away from the sergeant.

Danny Butterman:
No, Dad.

Inspector Frank Butterman:
Danny, you will do as you're told.

Danny Butterman:
I'm not taking orders from you anymore!

Inspector Frank Butterman:
[furious] Officers, arrest these men!

Nicholas Angel:
Wait, wait! You can arrest us if you like, you can throw us in prison and go back to being blind, submissive slaves...or you can be real police officers and help us bring an end to this absurd story!

DC Andy Cartwright:
[to DS Cartwright] What the f*** is he on about?!

DS Andy Wainwright:
[to Nicholas] What the f*** are you on about?!

Nicholas Angel:
Have you ever wondered why the crime rate in Sandford is so low, and yet the accident rate is so high?!

Sergeant Tony Fisher:
No. Yeah. What?

Nicholas Angel:
You've been brainwashed, Tony. Brainwashed into naivety by an old man with a murderous obsession!

Inspector Frank Butterman:
This is ridiculous!

Danny Butterman:
No it's not, Dad. It's all very un-ridiculous, and it's only now that I'm starting to realize how un-ridiculous it all is!

Inspector Frank Butterman:
SILENCE, DANNY! Think of your mother!

Danny Butterman:
Mum is dead, Dad. And for the first time in my life, you know, I'm glad. If she could see what you've becomee, I think she'd probably kill herself all over again!

WPC Doris Thatcher:
Sorry, I am completely lost!

Nicholas Angel:
Sandford is a lie, Doris! For the last twenty years, the village has been controlled by Frank and the NWA. They've lulled everyone into thinking this is a perfect village and killed anyone who's threatened to change that! [long pause]

PC Bob Walker:
I reckon he's got something there.

Danny Butterman:
He says he reckons you've got something there.

Nicholas Angel:
I know

Inspector Frank Butterman:
You're not seriously going to believe this man, are you?! ARE YOU?! HE ISN'T EVEN FROM ROUND HERE!

DS Andy Wainwright:
Maybe...it's time to give it up, sir.

Inspector Frank Butterman:
[furious] YOU INCOMPOTENT FLAT-FOOTS! [Frank shoots down the chandelier, using the confusion to make his escape]

Nicholas Angel:
Officer Walker, stay here with Saxon and hold everything down. Officers, let's go!

Danny Butterman:
What about Dad?

Nicholas Angel:
He'll come around again. Want anything from the shop?

Met Sergeant:
Hello, Nicholas.

Nicholas Angel:
Hello, Sergeant.

Met Sergeant:
How's the hand?

Nicholas Angel:
Still a bit stiff.

Met Sergeant:
(sniffs deeply) It can get awfully hairy out there. I'm surprised you weren't snapped up sooner for a nice desk job, that's what I did.

Nicholas Angel:
I like to think of my office as out on the street.

Met Sergeant:
Indeed you do. Your arrest record is... (opens a page on his desk with his right hand, reads from it) 400% higher than any other officer (closes page), which is high time such...skills were put to better use. We're making you Sergeant.

Nicholas Angel:
(grinning slightly) I see.

Met Sergeant:
(quickly and quietly) In Sandford, Gloucestershire.

Nicholas Angel:
In where, sorry?

Met Sergeant:
In Sandford, Gloucestershire.

Nicholas Angel:
(taking the new information in) That's... in the country.

Met Sergeant:
Yes, lovely.

Nicholas Angel:
Isn't there a Sergeant's position here in London?

Met Sergeant:
(laughs briefly) No.

Nicholas Angel:
Can I remain here as a PC?

Met Sergeant:
(throws his hands up in the air) No.

Nicholas Angel:
(sternly) Do I have any choice in this?

Met Sergeant:
Neewww.

Nicholas Angel:
Sergeant, I kinda like it here.

Met Sergeant:
Well, you've always wanted a transfer to the country.

Nicholas Angel:
In twenty years or so, yes.

Met Sergeant:
Well done you.

Nicholas Angel:
(thinks briefly) Hang on, I don't remember telling you that.

Met Sergeant:
Yes, you did. (He leans over to his desk) You said (He c*cks his head to one side and opens a corner of a thick document on his desk; reading from the document, quickly and quietly) "I'd love to settle in the country sometime, Janine." (He closes his document and looks at Nicholas)

Nicholas Angel:
(Thinks carefully; sternly) I'd like to talk to the Inspector.

Met Sergeant:
(leans forward to his desk phone/intercom) You can speak to the Inspector, but I can assure you, he will tell you exactly the same thing as I have. (He picks up the desk phone handset with his left hand, throws it into his right hand, and uses his left hand to dial the Met Inspector's number)

Met Inspector:
(sliding into the desk, next to the Met Sergeant) Hello, Nicholas. How's the hand?

Nicholas Angel:
It's still a bit stiff.

Met Inspector:
And how are things at home?

Nicholas Angel:
I'm sorry, sir?

Met Inspector:
(jovially) How's Janine?

(The Met Sergeant coughs.)

Nicholas Angel:
We're no longer together, sir.

Met Inspector:
Right, well, then where are you living?

Met Sergeant:
(leans over to Met Inspector; quietly) He's staying at the Section House, sir.

Met Inspector:
With the recruits?

Met Sergeant:
(looks into Nicholas's eyes) Yes, he's living out of cardboard boxes.

Met Inspector:
Well then, you're packed already. Nicholas, we're offering you a smashing position with a delightful cottage in a lovely little place that has I think has won Village of the Year...I don't know how many times. It'll be good for you.

Nicholas Angel:
(beat, then) I...don't really know what to say.

Met Inspector:
"Yes"?

Met Sergeant:
(arrogantly) "Yes, thank you"? (He laughs briefly.)

(Nicholas says nothing. The Met Inspector and Met Sergeant are grinning at him.)

Nicholas Angel:
(shakes his head slowly) No, I'm sorry. I'm gonna have to...

Met Inspector:
You want to...take this higher? (points up)

Nicholas Angel:
(realising that's what he wants) Yes, yes, I do.

Met Inspector:
You want me to bother the Chief Inspector about this? [indicates the phone]

Nicholas Angel:
Yes.

Met Inspector:
You want me to get the Chief Inspector to come all the way down here?

Nicholas Angel:
Yes, I do.

Met Inspector:
Okay. [shrugs reluctantly, reaches for the desk phone, then shouts, off to his right] Kenneth!

[The Chief Inspector immediately enters from a sliding glass door, to the left of Nicholas and to the right of the Met Sergeant and Met Inspector.]


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