Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
NOW, I know what you’re thinking. The trailers and promotional material show British secret agents dressed in Savile Row’s sharpest, firing off a volley of one-liners almost as quick as their pistols empty bullets into baddies. You’ve seen it all before, right?
James Bond has probably been spoofed more than any other film character in history. We’ve had the outrageous but hilarious (Austin Powers), the plain daft (Johnny English), but I’m confident in saying there’s been none as brilliant, and more importantly, brilliantly British, than Kingsman: Secret Service.
A healthy slice of the credit must go to director Matthew Vaughn, who once again proves that he excels in taking well-established and arguably tired genres and putting a brand new spin on them. He re-invigorated the bloated superhero genre by turning trusted tropes on their head with the hysterical Kick-Ass, and re-energised the massively popular X-Men franchise with X-Men: First Class.
With a blend of terrific wit, respect of the subject matter (because taking this sort of film too seriously is a cardinal sin) and frenetically violent action scenes, Vaughn has crafted another flawless jewel in his crown. Make no mistake, Kingsman is an absolute riot.
Blending throwbacks to the classic espionage era with distinctly modern technology and setting, the story kicks off with secret agent Harry Hart (Firth) – known by his codename ‘Galahad’ – unable to prevent the death of one of his colleagues. He visits his deceased buddy’s house to personally deliver a medal of valour to his widow and infant son Eggsy (Egerton), with an offer to call the number inscribed on the back of the medal and speak a coded phrase if they are ever in need of help.
Seventeen years later, Eggsy has grown into a good-hearted and intelligent kid but is often led astray due to his abusive step-father and his struggle to survive in the most run-down of working class surroundings.
After getting into a spot of bother and dialling the secret number, Hart shows up to rescue Eggsy and tells him about the existence of the Kingsman; a Knights of the Round Table-inspired secret intelligence agency that both he and Eggsy’s late father worked for.
Hart offers Eggsy a chance to join the organisation, who are recruiting after ‘Lancelot’ was killed in action investigating the mysterious technology tycoon Richmond Valentine (Jackson).
What genuinely surprised me the most was just how funny the film was; usually we are inundated with tired clichés where this genre is concerned, but here we have plenty of fresh material (although the tongue manages to remain firmly planted in cheek) that left me in stitches throughout.
A lot of it is probably due to the British accents (apparently this makes everything funnier … or so my colleagues in the office tell me!) and the liberal use of insulting slang that will leave many locals hastily searching through the Urban Dictionary when they get home.
Samuel L Jackson is an inspired choice for the villain too. Of course, he packs a secret lair, a lethal bodyguard and an absolutely ridiculous plan involving SIM cards which will cull the world’s population to prevent global warming, but it’s something as simple as a lisp (the person who invented that word deserves a high five for the cruel irony) that completes his character and somehow makes him even crazier.
Galahad and Eggsy have brilliant chemistry as their master-and-pupil relationship grows into something more personal. There’s a strong undercurrent of My Fair Lady running through the movie, and you can’t help but smile as Eggsy continues to impress over the public school toffs who are also competing for a place in the Kingsman.
Firth is as suave as his supremely-tailored suit, and shines brightly in a role that couldn’t be as distanced from The King’s Speech if you tried. He proves himself as perfectly capable of fast and furious action scenes, in particular during a brutal brawl in a church (with the inspired choice of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird blasting out, just one of many awesome tunes pumped out during the movie) that will go down as one of the year’s greatest scenes. A schizophrenic explosion of slow motion, fast-forwarding and sheer ruthlessness, it will be talked about for years to come.
Despite the film essentially being a spoof, beware that this is strictly not for kids. There’s a ton of vulgarity (even if you don’t realise it, non-Brits!), and violence, and the most magnificently musical massacre you could ever hope to see.
But, if you’re of age, you owe it to yourself to see this film and have one of the most rib-tickling and enjoyable experiences you’re likely to have this year. Fresh, entirely fearless and imaginative, I’m afraid this is one secret that deserves to be divulged.
