Eyewear maketh man: Colin Firth and Taron Egerton in Kingsman.
Kingsman: The Secret Service, Matthew Vaughn’s adaptation of the Mark Millar comics, is the most fun we’ve had at the movies this year so far, but then we enjoy onscreen violence because it saves us the mess of perpetrating our own. We are totally the market that thinks Scanners needed more cranial explosions.
Colin Firth is even better-tailored than usual as a member of a super-secret intelligence agency operating out of Savile Row, and Taron Egerton as his downmarket protege is adorable. Initially we were disturbed by the seeming right-wing reactionary thrust of the movie—that it falls to the upper classes to save the world—but this is turned upside-down before long.
Millar’s comics oeuvre resembles a hyperactive 11-year-old’s rewrites of superhero comics (Kick-Ass), and Kingsman is for those who wish the James Bond flicks had more violence. As in Wanted and the Ultimate Avengers, those in power are overthrown and hands that feed are inevitably bitten.
Firth is always charming, even when he’s committing mass murder, and the action sequences are clever and funny. In fact the movie is so kinetic, we regretted having seen it in 4DX because the moving chairs are redundant. Critics are up in arms over a scene in which a woman offers an agent sex if he saves the world—how is this different from every action movie? Oh, and eyeglasses. Rrrrrr, eyeglasses.