Anybody else here remember the good old days when Bond movies didn't strive for credibility? They'd show them by the handful every Christmas and Easter, solid two and a half hour lumps of bloodless violence and nudge-nudge-wink-wink sexuality interspersed with glamorous scenes that wanted you to know just how fucking great it was to be a spy.
Yes, they were undoubtedly dodgy, and yes, Daniel Craig is apparently a tremendously nice guy, but he has a face like an apple that's been lurking unwanted at the bottom of the fruit bowl for a week too long. Besides, while I don't have a problem with Bond having a conscience, in crowbarring a sense of social responsibility into the franchise, I feel as though the production team accidentally squeezed out most of the fun.
Damn, but Kingsman: The Secret Service feels like a breath of fresh air. Or, rather more accurately, it feels like a breath of much-missed stale air, like your bedroom after ill-advised sex with an ex, or last night's takeaway at breakfast time. Finally, somebody remembered that not all spy movies need to aspire to be serious thrillers - sometimes cheap thrills are the most satisfying kind.
I remember being cautiously intrigued by the trailers for this one at the cinema last year - a couple of the action sequences looked absolutely gorgeous, and Samuel L Jackson looked far more interesting with a stoop and a baseball cap than he ever has as Nick Fury. Still, I had reservations; I was worried that using social class for a fish-out-of-water comedy could be an uncomfortable move, particularly as director Matthew Vaughn is best known for Kick-Ass, another accomplished comedic thrillride, but one which left me feeling grubby for weeks afterwards. In the end, this was the deciding factor in my leaving it so long before taking a look at Kingsman.
It was only after I'd made the decision to watch that I did some actual research and realized Vaughn was also behind Stardust and X-Men: First Class, two of my favourite entries within the fantasy and superhero genres respectively. Thus reassured, I settled down after work last night with high hopes of a good time.
Leaving my imaginary former self behind for a little while, here's the synopsis: In 1997, an agent belonging to an unnamed secret organization is killed during the storming of a Middle Eastern fortress as the result of a mistake by a colleague. Said colleague, one Harry Hart (Colin Firth), takes it upon himself to right the wrong as best he can, delivering the sad news to the agent's widow and offering the promise of a favour owed. Fast-forward seventeen years and her life is a relatively sad one, trapped on a London sink estate with an abusive partner and Eggsy (Taron Egerton), her gifted but unruly son who wasn't quite able to stick out his training with the Royal Marines. Eggsy's always been in and out of trouble, but one particularly dramatic joyriding incident leaves him facing a jail sentence. Luckily, he knows he has somebody he can call.
This is his introduction to Harry and to the world of the Kingsmen, a group of immaculately-dressed English secret agents with Arthurian codenames and an elegant but incredibly energetic approach to violence. Before long, Eggsy has been granted an interview under the supervision of sardonic Scot Merlin (Mark Strong) and is on an adventure that turns out to be bigger than he could ever have imagined.
Honestly? This one was bigger and more fun than I imagined, too, offering an homage to the classic spy flicks of decades past without ever trying to pastiche movies that were effectively pastiches themselves. Vaughn creates a coherent and highly appealing world that embraces both occasional absurdity and a surprising sense of moral decency - one scene features prominent placement and mention of McDonald's food, for instance, only to use this as playful shorthand for a character being, well, a bit of a dick.
I think the thing that made me love Kingsman the most, though, was watching Colin Firth as an action hero. After decades spent playing restrained, uptight types, here he finally gets the chance to cut loose in balletic, joyous action scenes reminiscent of Tarantino's Kill Bill Pt. 1, and all I could think of whilst watching was quite how much fun he must have been having. The rest of the casting is great, too - Mark Strong's Merlin was a particular joy, resembling nothing so much as Malcolm Tucker after having been given a litter of kittens to herd.
The usual caveats apply, of course - if you're not into movie violence, you'd be best off staying away. On a personal note, though, most action flicks bore the pants off me and I remained charmed and excited by this one throughout. Sometimes when I review a film I watch it twice to check up on details, sometimes through sheer disbelief; I'm thinking of re-watching this one today for the sheer joy of it. Oh, and the post-credits scene? An absolute delight.
Apparently plans have been announced for a sequel, and for once, I'm hoping this is a franchise that will run and run.
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