3 out of 5

Directed by: Matthew Vaughn

If not for sporadic reappearances of the same rampant broism that stifled Kick-Ass and mark the flick as a Mark Millar-sourced project (though it admittedly deviates from that source – Secret Service – quite a lot), Kingsman is almost a smart, kinetic, wish-fulfillment flick – like Harry Potter but with guns and spies and blood instead of wizards and spells and a PG rating – given an extra nigh-nostalgic boost by its constant winking at James Bond-isms.  “Almost” because it takes… quite a while to actually get smart, sifting through a barely logical training montage and spy ring mythology for 90 minutes before finally allowing its lead to somewhat take the reigns, put on a proper Bond accent, and kick poot.  The lead-up to that is undeniably entertaining, but it lacks heart, in the way that a lot of technically impressive modern flicks do – think Smokin’ Aces, one of the other followers of the Lock, Stock grain on which Vaughn cut his teeth – which adds to the strange bi-polar nature of Vaughn’s body of work, encompassing boisterousness like Layer Cake and then more relatively patient works like First Class.  Kingsman teeters into what I’d consider the more “positive” aspects of his style as it actually doesn’t indulge half as much as it could.  But again, it’s still stifled by some groan-worthy childishness, especially the publicized “we win sex!” conclusion, which, Bond-reference aside, is executed too clod-footedly to work.

So: bad guy plot; secret agency named The Kingsman – gentlemanly nature required – needs to stop it but has lost a member and so also needs to recruit, resulting in “Arthur” – Colin Firth – bringing an old friend’s son – “Eggsy,” played by Taron Egerton – into the fold, pitting him against a gaggle of other youngsters.  Ah, but “Eggsy” is of the streets, cockney accent and all, lacking in the posh schooling of all the other recruits.  Certainly he’ll fail!  But Arthur has faith, and sure enough, his charge makes it through those 90 minutes of prep while we learn more about this bad guy plot, headed by a lisping Samuel L. Jackson.  And this is where Kingsman – and Vaughn – weave in some charm, as the temptation to give Eggsy super-spy powers and show his low-class neighborhood mates what’s what are bypassed, as are jabs at the upper class.  There’s some bickering and battles, but it’s not near as overt as it could be, so you don’t feel like an ignorant idiot for watching.

And what about those action sequences?  What about the church?  Yes, they’re awesome; you will marvel at how much is in frame and how our actors do seem to be involved in every shot.  The freneticness is on par with Edgar Wright.  But again, there’s an element of humanity lacking in the film, which is what prevents these scenes from singing in the same way Wright’s do; much more satisfying is the penultimate Pomp & Circumstance moment, as it feels like a ridiculous celebration off all things Bond-y gone wrong and finally achieves the smirking, sarcastic overkill the film has been toying with up until that point.  The achievement of that is what makes the final 30 minutes that much more fun, and almost populates the empty entertainment of the film’s first 3/4ths with retrospective intelligence.  (Again, almost.)

I skipped Kingsman because I have a dislike for Mark Millar, and Vaughn carried his themes over almost too well for the Kick-Ass film, so I assumed the same would happen here.  And the Millar child-adult spirit certainly lives on, but the suit-wearing Bondisms to which the film adheres seems to interestingly keep it mostly in line, and when the film finally congeals into its concluding sequences, all of the boisterousness of the lead-in starts to fit and you feel satisfyingly entertained.  Whether or not you laugh at that last joke?  Well, obviously that’s up to you.