BY ABIGAIL GRABER

In print | March 31, 2005

In 2000’s “Miss Congeniality,” FBI agent Gracie Hart, played by Sandra Bullock, was a painfully blunt, hygienically oblivious, chew-with-your-mouth-open kind of gal. She may have been hauled kicking, screaming and karate-chopping into the Miss America contest, but she still sneaked donuts by stuffing them down her dress. She did not own a miniskirt, because owning a miniskirt would imply owning a cute little top to go with it, and of course you can’t go out dressed like that without matching shoes. It was baggy pants paired with an ill-fitting collared shirt all the way, and if anyone commented, she hit them.

Fast forward five years (that’s two movie months): In “Miss Congeniality 2,” Gracie Hart is still played by Sandra Bullock, but that only means that she bears a passing physical resemblance to her former self. Post-pageant, Hart walks (or perhaps she glides) around her apartment in what official reports indicate is a mini-skirt with a cute little top. Her hair may not be immaculately groomed, but wait, is that a trace of blush upon her fair cheek? After being dumped by 2000’s love interest, instead of hitting the gym, the new Gracie hits the salon. To make him jealous, she becomes the spokeswoman for the FBI and turns into “FBI Barbie,” allowing her self-worth to be bound up in others’ perceptions of her.

But don’t worry — she’s still the good guy.

The dichotomy between beta-Gracie and Gracie 2.0 epitomizes the feel of “Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous.” “Miss Congeniality 2” is best defined as not being its original. Everyone involved realizes that the plot and characters need to have evolved from the first film, so they do take Gracie and her entourage (Gracie 2.0, for those of you still stuck in 2000, has an entourage) in a new direction. They are wildly delighted to tell us, the audience, about this new direction. Loudly. And often. And while it is indeed fabulous to find a sequel that isn’t just a scene-for-scene repackaged version of the original (“Bridget Jones 2,” anyone?), that accomplishment doesn’t change the fact that many of the changes to Gracie Hart’s world are for the worse.

In “Miss Congeniality,” Hart was a fish out of water. Now, she’s in a climate-controlled aquarium. Gone is her social awkwardness, and with it the tough, crass attitude that meant that the old Hart would never have allowed herself to be paraded around on Regis and Kelly (in miniskirts) as the “face of the FBI” just because she was going through a bad break-up. But now, unable to go undercover due to her widely publicized escapades in the Miss America pageant, such is the foolery that Hart is reduced to.

Hart’s grueling talk show circuit is interrupted when her best friend, Miss America (she has a name, but it’s not relevant) and Stan, the pageant’s emcee, are kidnapped. Hart and her new bodyguard, Sam (Regina King) are sent to Vegas, where Hart will not only attempt to solve the crime but also reclaim her soul from the Prada Demons who hold it captive.

What this movie has going for it are moments. There are lots of them, and some are even good. Remember (you will remember, for the film will never cease to remind you), they ditched the bland love interest of the first film, which greatly improves the quality of the dialogue. Some of the jokes are actually funny — like Hart’s supervisor reprimanding her for severe misconduct, footage of which we are told made it on to CNN, MSNBC and Al-Jazeera.

But though the writing is slicker, everything else has taken a dive. The setup has potential — one of the kidnappers is a spurned actor with a B.A. in fine arts — but it never develops. Most disappointingly, Hart truly internalizes her new image rather than fighting it. Her conceit and preoccupation with appearances and the patronizing, quasi-racist manner that she adopts towards the perpetually violent Sam flick the audience’s sympathy switch firmly to “OFF.” By the time of the emotional turnaround (a heart-to-Hart, if you will) between Gracie and Sam, the characters have become such caricatures that the only reason you’re still watching is in anticipation of the next quippy one-liner.

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