Kingsman: The Secret Service Review

Kingsman: The Secret Service Review

The issue with seeing a film as jaw-droppingly spectacular as Kingsman: The Secret Service is writing a coherent review of it. I can’t tell you why it’s awesome; that would spoil the plethora of gleefully sick twists, the endless stream of absurdly funny gags and possibly the greatest head-explosion montage I have ever seen. I can only tell that it is awesome. Trying to explain the wit, charm and sheer joy running through this film’s veins is akin to describing the appeal of kittens. Or Kate Beckinsale. These things are self-explanatory. Provided you have a soul, that is. So, if you’re curious to see whether or not you have a soul, see Kingsman as soon as humanly possible. If not: see Kingsman as soon as humanly possible.

Based on Mark Millar and Dave Gibbons’ comic of the same name, Kingsman: The Secret Service is visionary director/best genre director working today Matthew Vaughn tongue-in-cheek tribute to spy movies, British eccentricity and pugs. Mostly Bond, somewhat regrettably. Following the death of one of their agents, the top-secret agency Kingsman, led by Michael Caine’s Arthur, must recruit a fresh face to replace him. Each member must propose a candidate for training and eventual assessment, before one is selected to join their ranks. Galahad (a brilliant Colin Firth) selects street-wise chav Eggsy (the name’s don’t get any better) for consideration. Meanwhile, megalomaniac George Valentine (I promise I’m not making these up) is planning an apocalyptic event to wipe out the virus of humanity. Newcomer Taron Egerton takes the lead as Eggsy, giving a fresh take on the admittedly tiresome chav stereotype. Rounding out the cast are Mark Strong’s Merlin (don’t blame me!), Sofia Boutella’s blade-legged Gazelle (it’s in the script, honestly) and Sophie Cookson as Roxy (her real name is Roxanne, if that’s any consolation. With the first hour spent on training and world-building, Kingsman only truly reveals itself in an rapturously ultra-violent extended fight scene in an evangelical church, in which both Firth and Vaughn wreak absolute carnage. Necks are broken, stomachs are impaled and several gallons of blood are let, all in two gloriously balletic takes. If this isn’t the best action scene of 2015, I’d better get a new set of retinas…

The cast are all game for the purposefully hokey plot of evil henchwomen, slick gadgets and doomsday devices. But what really sells that histrionics is Vaughn’s magnificent direction. Before Kingsman, Vaughn gave us the hilarious superhero send-up Kick-Ass, the disorientating crime drama Layer Cake, the severely-overrated-but-still-decent X-Men: First Class and the mediocre fantasy Stardust (although, who can begrudge a cross-dressing Robert DeNiro?). This is easily his most focused and heartfelt film to date. Kick-Ass and Layer Cake were a tad too clever for their own good, whilst First Class and Stardust seemed overly studio-centred, Kingsman finds the perfect balance. Retaining the nihilism of his less mainstream work, as well as utilising a blockbuster budget, Kingsman is the ultimate blend of Vaughn-ism and crowd-pleasing entertainment.

Jarringly violent action and post-modernist humour are par for the course in Vaughn’s adult-orientated films. However, what Kingsman brings out in Vaughn is a surprising heart beneath the misanthropic snarkiness. The message, that of self-belief and acceptance of others, may not be revolutionary, but is a damn-sight more sincere than watching an 11-year-old brutally massacre a gang of drug dealers. Call it lowered expectations, I suppose.

Similar to its protagonist, the film is undeniably flawed and rough around the edges. The Eggsy-centred first act feels distractingly retrograde for an otherwise forward-looking movie. Inner-city gangs and “chav culture” may have been relevant circa 2011, but fail to integrate into a 2015 release aiming for a broad political message about classism and elitism. Gazelle, who could have been the greatest accomplice of all time, is reduced to a bit-player until her magnificent final fight scene with the athletic Egerton.

Again mirroring Eggsy, it is ultimately impossible to deny a work of such wonderous invention and feverish creativity. Despite obvious imperfection, there is simply no use in resisting this film. Cynics will bemoan the excessive blood-letting (because how dare a film feature the actual consequences of violence) and occasionally problematic politics, but will inevitably be drowned out by the cheers, laughter and applause of  a public in desperate need of variety and (when it comes down to it) simple, unapologetic fun.

Five-Word Verdict: Alternate title: even more Kick-Ass
Score: 4/5