28 Days

In 28 Days, Sandra Bullock plays a boozy New York writer who gets sloshed at her sister’s wedding with Dominic West (what McNulty fan woudn’t?), crashes a limo into a nearby house, and is sentenced to a stint in rehab. Bullock arrives at the wooded retreat grudgingly — a city-smart gal who, even in 2000, is constantly talking on a mobile phone or typing away on her ThinkPad. Soon enough, though, her harsh exterior is melted by a community of loveable recovering addicts whose damaged lives we can only imagine (and have to, since this brutal analysis of addiction is rated PG-13 and doesn’t really want to show the, you know, unpleasant side of addiction).

This Sandra Bullock — stern, no-nonsense, a little bitchy — is the Sandra Bullock we know today. But it is a nice reminder of Ms. Bullock’s earlier, action-packed days that 28 Days should be most frequently rememberd for the abstract reason of not being Danny Boyle’s zombie thriller 28 Days Later.

The year 2000, in which 28 Days was released, nicely cleaves the collected work of Sandra Annete Bullock into two halves. And the first of these halves was Bullock’s breakout era of the mid 1990s, which includes testosteriffic blockbusters like 1993’s Demolition Man and Speed. Among the time traveling and exploding busses of those films (not to mention Dennis Hopper), Bullock emerged as the perky, spunky, Alanis Morissetey new face of Hollywood actresses. (In its review of Speed, The New Yorker called her “Claudette Colbert in the age of hard rock.” Which sounds like it was written by the oldest and whitest human being on Earth, but the point of which is still valid.)

Let’s compare that with the late ’80s , when Norma Rae and Working Girl had already hit theaters, when female empowerment was a perrenial 20/20 installment, and when Michael Crichton was writing Disclosure. Back then your typical female lead was Sigourney Weaver or Melanie Griffith: strong women with powerful permed hair and padded shoulders that made them resemble linebackers more than actresses. Women who could emasculate even Harrison Ford:

If this photograph hasn’t sufficiently tripled you’re blood’s estrogen content, I recommend viewing the music video for Carly Simon’s “Let the River Run,” from the Working Girl soundtrack. (I’m 90% sure I grew fimbriae after one play):

Young Sandra Bullock represented a dramatic shift from Sigourney Weaver’s Reagan-Era alpha-woman. She was, arguably, Generation X’s first female superstar (like a higher-paid Blossom). She wore floppy hats with sunflowers on them. She looked like Phoebe from the first season of Friends (or Wynona Ryder from Reality Bites). She probably owned a few pairs of overalls and a sang along to Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” while recording a road trip on Hi 8. She was decidedly of her time. (Who else but Sandra Bullock could have starred in The Net, a picture about the looming threats of of dial-up modems?)

In my adolescent version of a perfect world, Sandra Bullock would have remained the sweet, happy-go-lucky fifth-grade teacher’s assistant whose floral blouse I’d stare down when she leaned over to help me with my long division. But this obviously wasn’t what Ms. Bullock aspired to – which brings me to the second act of her career. Ten years ago, Bullock abandoned her perkiness and never looked back. No more zany, free-spirited bus drivers or futuristic San Angeles peacekeepers. No more Forces of Nature. No more Practical Magic. Not even another Hope Floats.

2000’s 28 Days would be our last taste of that Sandra Bullock. The same year, Miss Congeniality was released. A major turning point. Miss Congeniality represents a clear and sudden turn of Ms. Bullock’s toward stern, powerful women – women who wouldn’t hesitate to plow their SUVs into the old, perky Sandy’s ‘96 Geo. It is telling that the plot of Miss Congeniality concerns a woman who must fundamentally alter her personality for her career.

In particular, last year highlights the post-Congeniality Bullock. She received 2009 Golden Globe nominations for two roles (in The Proposal and The Blind Side) as assertive, steely women who probably wouldn’t let their Honor Roll kids watch Demolition Man, let alone star in it themselves. For reference, check out the first 25 seconds of the Blind Side trailer. You can almost sense the 20th-century Sandra Bullock fade away amid a chorus of middle aged working mothers snapping, You go girl: