Why the singular? This movie is about a defined group of special agents. “Kingsman?” That’s just one. We talked about several of these particular ladies and gentlemen. It’s important not to piss me off before we even get past the opening titles.
In Act II, Agent Harry Hart (Colin Firth) is invited to the home of the villainous Valentine – the vallenous Vilentine? (Samuel L. Jackson) — for dinner. Clever pleasantries are exchanged. Valentine grew up wanting to be James Bond; Hart counters with a dream of being a megalomaniac; ah, the foes understand one another. A silver platter is rolled out. What’s inside? Filet mignon? A secret weapon? The severed head of a foe? The metal apron is slowly rotated. The contents? McDonald’s burgers and fries. Normally, I loathe product placement, but this one got me. I can’t imagine too many bazillionaires hosting with Happy Meals.
Kingsman: The Secret Service exists because somebody [read: writer/director Matthew Vaughn, the prime suspect here] or somebodies were really jonesin’ to make a Bond film but didn’t own the rights. Then after deciding that was a good idea, the somebody said, “y’know, let’s lose the touchy/feely vulneraBond and go back to kick-ass-y/ultravillain-thwart-y Bond. Oh, and let’s lose some of those Bond taste restrictions — you wanna show an ass and not a cheap silhouette? Show an ass. In case you didn’t quite catch the Bond feel in the preview – Kingsman is a secret elitist English agency replete with pasty men of wealth, refinement and weaponry. The agents are given names like “Galahad,” “Merlin” and “Lancelot.” When a member dies, his moniker is bestowed upon his replacement, not unlike the double-oh system. This made me wonder if the society would be stronger if King Arthur had more adventures.
After some creative opening credits, Hart finds himself indebted to a sacrificial agent and pays it forward years later to his son Eggsy (Taron Egerton), more than once saving Eggsy’s bacon at the hands of street thugs. Watching Colin Firth beat the stuffing out of local hooligans is a bit on the surreal side. Somebody like me is always looking for the stunt double, but that doesn’t make the ride unenjoyable. Rudderless Eggsy is then invited to try-out for the role of Lancelot. This feels a lot like frat hazing with better props. The winner gets an all-expenses paid ego trip to fa
ce off against Samuel L. Jackson.
Kingsman: The Secret Service is an indulgent mix of the jovial and the brutal. It’s also a great mix of the awful (like Jackson’s speech impediment) and the wonderful (footless-but-lethal Sofia Boutella makes the best comic henchman since Jaws). This is a star-making role for Taron Egerton. Perhaps that’s why he was saddled with the name “Eggsy” and a Justin Bieber look to compensate. Personally, I didn’t see anything in Egerton that made me wish to see him again, but the film itself is much stronger than any of the players.
The dapper secret agency host
Teaches all noobs the most
Do mind instruction
In ways of destruction
Or, young Eggsy, you’ll be toast
Rated R, 129 Minutes
D: Matthew Vaughn
W: Jane Goldman & Matthew Vaughn
Genre: Super spy silliness
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: People who wanted to see Colin Firth as James Bond.
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: “Who the Hell is Taron Egerton?”
