Kingsman: The Secret Service

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Kingsman: The Secret Service tells the story of a super-secret spy organization that recruits an unrefined but promising street kid into the agency's ultra-competitive training program just as a global threat emerges from a twisted tech genius. (20th Century Fox)

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Reviews (13)

D.Moore 

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English Cruelly insane fun, in my eyes even a notch better than Kick-Ass, mainly thanks to the likable main character and the fact that everyone is likable here, including the bad guys. Kingsman is a movie whose creators (and characters) were pining for funny spy flicks, so they just figured they'd make another one. They were inspired by the original Bond films, the Agent Flint films, maybe even the Mission: Impossible series and this is what was created. Two hours of hilarious bloody silliness, where all the agents wear the glasses once made famous by Michael Caine, where Colin Firth is an incredible badass, although you would never say that to him, where everything makes sense, no matter how goofy it is, and where the viewer is constantly surprised by something. Matthew Vaughn was clearly in his element when he was conceiving and filming Kingsman, and it's clear that unlike X-Men: First Class, he didn't have his hands tied in the least bit, so he could run amok. Sensational, sensational. He made one of the few films that I immediately want to watch again as soon as it's over.___P.S. My only complaint is about the princess's catchphrase, which is quoted enthusiastically by perhaps half of the comments here, but which did not amuse me one bit. ()

Malarkey 

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English Matthew Vaughn again shot an almost perfect entertainment which has everything a funny gangster movie needs. A villain with a lisp, portrayed by Samuel L. Jackson, macho agent Colin Firth or a really likeable muddler Taron Egerton. Add in a rather classic story, but with a truly excellent interpretation, which is most apparent in the rather brutal, but all the more fun action scene in the church. I don’t know if Matthew Vaughn is a genius, but he is one of the few directors whose films I keep revisiting and after watching them again I rate them even higher. After Stardust, this flick is the best he managed to entertain me with so far. And I hope it was not the last time. ()

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Marigold 

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English A bit of a sucker punch from Matthew, because he plays exactly those strings that a shameful and overripe Bond fan has to love in his post-nerdy nature (well-known superspy choruses acted with a mixture of irony and fanboy love). When you take this world too seriously, you come to the harsh condemnation of its hidden conservatism and aristocratic stiffness (just like certain British critics), but what else is JB's (the only real one) world based on, if not its return to the suit, fireplace, mahogany, and expensive booze? Kingsman is an amusing paraphrase of genre rules, their reflections, distortions and resurrections in all their glory and dignity. The boy gets a suit, the aristocracy enjoys anal, the viewer enjoys Matthew's kinetic tomfoolery, the seamless transitions from scene to scene and the striking catchphrases... we add a bit of honest social drama and we’re home. Being that I am distanced from it, the only objection I have is that Vaughn's inclination to ultimate "coolness" at all costs is already on the verge of self-parody and emotional blackmail. But let’s not be distanced. Kingsman amused me because it had to amuse me. It's that kind of a movie... [80%] ()

Matty 

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English Vaughn and Goldman wanted to show off how they are able to exploit the legacy of Bond movies, when in fact they pillaged their own store. This is their third recruitment-training film after Kick-Ass and X-Men: First Class, though somewhat unfortunately crossed with a rather serious social drama. The stereotypical depiction of the working-class setting (pubs, brawls, domestic violence) lacks the exaggeration that characterises the rest of the film, which leads to the narrative having a disjointed tone and pace during the first two-thirds. At the same time, the protagonist’s education in “being a gentleman” (which here, as in the early Bond movies, contains a proper helping of chauvinism) is in conflict with the film’s egalitarian message – Eggsy can only become a Kingsman after he repudiates his lower-class origins (through his demeanour, wardrobe and speech). As the technophobic presentation of the villain illustrates, the film’s pseudo-anarchistic casing conceals a conservative heart. Vaughn may not have a clear idea about what he wants to convey with the film, but he lets us know with every scene how badly he wants to be cool or, more precisely, how badly he wants to please teenage boys who devour comic books and play video games. Cartoonishly exaggerated violence, action scenes with video-game aesthetics, low-brow jokes and appalling sexism (call me a bore, but I don’t find the offer of anal sex from a woman who has spent recent days locked up in a cell to be funny, but simply offensive; the only active female character in the narrative is pacified by being shot into space at the end of the film). The pretence of adulthood is limited to superficial discussions about Bond movies and self-reflexive lines such as “this isn’t that kind of movie”, though of course it is exactly “that kind of movie” at its core. Denial of its own clichéd nature has become a new cliché. First Class, which didn’t need to so blatantly draw attention to its Bondian stylisation, thus remains Vaughn’s most Bond-esque film. None of this would be a reason to dismiss Kingsman if the first half of the film didn’t suffer from a lack of dynamics and suspense in the unreasonably divided narrative, and if SO MANY scenes didn’t suffer from being absolutely gratuitous. Vaughn doesn’t know when to stop. He is unable to recognise when a scene has exhausted its potential and transitioned into another “look how cool I am” exhibition of hackneyed visual ideas and mediocre digital tricks. In its attempt to be entertaining at all costs and without any regard for good taste, Kingsman is amusing here and there with its coarseness, but it’s mostly just tiresome. 70% ()

Isherwood 

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English Manners, not clothes, make a gentleman. Even though Vaughn works visually outside all pigeonholes (the church massacre is something so unholy I'm surprised American churches aren’t screaming loudly) and sprinkles adolescent quips with the mischievousness of a 16-year-old class brat, which is then perfectly matched by the dream cast, obviously he and Goldman got embarrassed by superficial Bond jokes. You just end up wanting more happy meals and lines about "other movies"; four stars is actually a slight disappointment in the context of Vaughn's output, but he is still far ahead of his genre contemporaries. ()

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