Kingsman: The Secret Service is one of those well-made genre pieces destined to live in obscurity. Like the well-reviewed, seldom remembered Shoot ’em Up, The Crazies, or Zombieland, Kingsman’s highly enjoyable and hyper-kinetic take on its well-worn genre of choice, the secret-agent spy flick, gets everything right while stopping just short of adding anything new.
As is any good spy movie worth its salt, Kingsman is steeped in all things British, starting with its unlikely top agent, Colin Firth (code name Galahad), bringing all his unassuming, kingly charm to the role. His inherent Colin Firth-ness enhances the whiz-bang action sequences to such a gleeful degree because of the sheer improbability, but utter capability, of his apparent ass-kicking aptitude. If he stays the course, Colin Firth could pull a Liam Neeson minus the complete lack of joy, though my gut tells me this film was something of a lark for Firth.
As a member of the world’s most secret (and most British) secret service (the Kingsman’s HQ is located beneath a tailor who supplies all their bulletproof bespoke suits), Galahad is charged with bringing in a new recruit after one of their agents meets his demise. Enter newcomer Taron Egerton as Eggsy, the Eliza Doolittle to Galahad’s Henry Higgins. Egerton nails the intelligent yet troubled criminal youth-cum-super spy, and more than holds his own against such heavyweights as Colin Firth and the Kingsman’s leader, Arthur (Michael Caine).
While Eggsy and his posh classmates train and vie for the sole open position on the Kingsman’s roster, the film’s tech-mogul and super-villain, Valentine (Jackson), and his sword-footed henchwoman, Gazelle, plot a plot so devilish it almost makes sense. It involves global warming and triggering everyone’s most violent urges while inhibiting impulse control, but the film is self aware enough to realize that the important part is that its villain have an over-the-top lisp and his henchwoman be equipped with razor-sharp blades for legs.
We’ve come a long way since the in-your-face self-referencing of the ’90s, but if I see another movie with the line “this isn’t that kind of movie,” then I don’t know what. Thankfully, Kingsman: The Secret Service knows better than to include the self-congratulatory, aren’t-we-clever wink after such so-called “jokes,” and gets a pass just for giving the James Bond-meets-Austin Powers spy genre its due justice. Also noteworthy: Mark Hamill as a British professor and a super WTF moment at a Kentucky hate church.
