Kingsman: The Secret Service

Kingsman: The Secret Service
directed by Matthew Vaughn
adapted from the comic book by Dave Gibbons and Mark Millar

Judging from the previews, this looked like a slick youthful update on the James Bond concept, kind of a Percy Jackson goes all Jason Bourne on us instead of mythologically Greek. The flick offers sterling performances from Colin Firth, who struts around in duds that make him look much like his troubled gay English professor character from the visually stunning and emotionally dismal A Single Man from 2009 as well as the classic Harry Palmer character from the gritty '60s spy romps; from movie stalwart Michael Caine, who actually first portrayed Brit agent Harry Palmer starting with The Ipcress File (1965); and from the young hero, played with gutter charm and ebullience by Taron Egerton. But while the film is visually sizzling, with crisp cinematography and eye popping special effects, the narrative is serpentine and limp. The story often hopscotches from set piece to set piece, leaving out important details, and often borders on the WTF.

Falling in lockstep with the current spate of young adult stories where a youthful hero is plucked from unlikely circumstances to save the world, Kingsman starts with working class London kid Eggsy growing up under the thumb of his abusive stepdad and falling short of his potential at school. He wears a medallion of his father's, given to him as a child by Galahad (Firth) when his father was mysteriously killed. He was told to call the number on the medallion and speak a password should he ever get into a spot of trouble; now collared by the police for a bro prank, he calls. Galahad appears to bust him from the joint and recruits him to train for a spot in Britain's shadow force known as Kingsmen. Part of being a Kingsman is dressing the role of an uppercrust gentleman, something Eggsy rightly scoffs at initially (we do not get to see what protocols for dress and comportment are offered to the female recruit), though later he does battle in his own custom tailored duds. After a number of hazing events and eliminations, Eggsy fails the final test to become the next Lancelot, but Galahad soon scoops him up again as the Kingsmen rush to stop a megalomaniac from executing a diabolical doomsday plan.

This is where the movie founders. The convoluted and yet completely nonsensical threat concerns a tech billionaire named Valentine, played by Samuel L. Jackson, who decides that since humans are the cause of the Earth's increasingly rapid demise, he will just winnow down the planet's population in order to slow that process. Said plan includes implanting controlling chips in the necks of world decision makers, kidnapping and holding select desirable future citizens, and mass distribution of free phones that can signal the hoi polloi to unleash hell on one another at a moment's notice and thus wipe themselves out. How messy, I thought -- couldn't Valentine just make everyone ingest poison and quietly lay down and die?

Because that's another problem with the movie -- it's hella violent. A man is sliced in half head to foot by a long blade in the opening scenes. Arms fly off. Heads explode. I was willing to go along with the flick and all it's over-the-top foolishness until a scene set in Kentucky, when Galahad is caught with a bunch of Westboro Church types when the villain sounds the mayhem signal. What ensues is stomach churning; the church members are attacking each other viciously, and Galahad is shooting, stabbing, impaling, hacking off limbs, snapping necks, bashing heads, knocking out teeth, slashing throats, and all at breakneck speed in an extended scene of free-for-all bloodletting and murder. This is SICK! I shouted at the screen. I can't watch this! It was all I could do not to stop watching right then and there. But, in for a penny, in for a pound.

And Samuel L. Jackson. What can I say? The only person of color in the movie, which is welcome. Sort of. He's usually phenomenal, he knows his lane. But this character just doesn't work. Jackson plays the billionaire as a lisping, pimprolling, baseball-cap-to-the-side, expensive-athletic-shoes-wearing homeboy-made-good who is clearly patterned after lisping, baseball-cap-wearing, expensive-athletic-shoes-wearing homeboy-made-good Russell Simmons. Which is simultaneously funny, pathetic, and entirely unsustainable for an entire film. Not to mention that it's a characterization that goes over the heads of 80 percent of this film's audience. Jackson's lisp alone is unfortunate; I could never tell if his lethal blade-footed sidekick's name was "Giselle" or "Gabrielle"; according to IMDB, she was "Gazelle." (And actress Sofia Boutella is Algerian -- does that make her a person of color as well? Hmmm... ) Disappointingly, and adding to the Who Cares of the plot, the source or progression of Valentine's madness is never explained.

The idea of Kingsman is clever; indeed, the film has some moments of hilarity, as when Arthur (Caine) asks Eggsy the name of his loyal pug and the answer is "JB." For James Bond? No. For Jason Bourne? No. "Jack Bauer." Ha ha ha. The film also has a slick, shiny look to it, with some spectacular sets. And of course Colin Firth looks absolutely impeccable in his bespoke suits and brogued Oxfords.

But the overall experience is kind of Meh, even as some of those shots of fireworked head explosions and sliced limbs remain embedded in your memory.

photos: 20th Century Fox; Harry Palmer, telegraph.co.uk

Fifty Shades Of Grey

Fifty Shades of Grey
directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson, based on the novel by E.L. James
starring Dakota Johnson, Jamie Dornan, Marcia Gay Harden

DISCLAIMER: I did not read the book of Fifty Shades of Grey. I am only responding to the film I saw. And yes, I waited until all the hoopla and hysteria had died down after the Valentine's Day release and only watched it out of sheer curiosity.


SUMMARY:
Virgin college student Anastasia by chance meets young billionaire tycoon Christian Grey, who suddenly becomes interested in her mousy, bumbling, harware store clerk, virgin steez. They play push and pull games until he bumrushes his way into her life, demands that she stop drinking, buys her clothes and gifts, and proposes that she agree to be his sex slave sans any normal romance.

Instead of thinking GTFOHWTS and running for the hills, Ana is intrigued enough to see what will happen. The romantic-minded goon chooses to be deflowered by the freak, and then enters his naughty "game room" a few times for a little S&M slap and tickle. Much to the gratification of the straight male and lesbian audience, Dakota Johnson is only too happy to get buck nekkid on screen for these romps, with her bit-o-honey boobs and teacup ass. (Baring skin on film is a family tradition, from grandma Tippi Hedren flashing a little skin in the Hitchcock thriller Marnie to mama Melanie Griffith in Brian DePalma's Body Double.)

Though she's already entered the Chamber of Freakness, Ana still refuses to sign Christian's formal contract stipulating details of their dominant and submissive relationship. The contract presents very specific clauses regarding the use of a number of items, some of which Ana agrees to, but the film nervously backs off from showing viewers any interaction with dildoes, butt plugs, vibrators, nipple or genital clamps, or ball gags. This is an R rating and not an X, after all. Not that I'm complaining. Some of that stuff sounds hella uncomfortable.

Though the titular entrepreneur insists that he cannot conduct a normal romantic relationship, he confusingly says he is devoted to Ana, refers to her as his girlfriend, buys her expensive gifts, kisses and caresses her extensively, and does everything he can to keep her around. Except when play time comes around, she's not allowed to initiate or reciprocate any touching. It's just the way I am, he says over and over. He tries to explain that his weird desires relate to being born to a crack-addicted mother who mistreated him before he was adopted by a rich family and ... *yawn*, I'm sorry, I fell asleep for a minute.

In the end, Ana says no to Christian and all his kinky proclivities. She has fallen in love with him (because she is a romantic fool who predictably falls for an unavailable man, and because, let's face it, he may be a freak but he's a rich freak), but he will never love her on her terms. Thanks, Captain Obvious.

OBSERVATIONS

1) This movie isn't as sexy as I thought it would be. Maybe because I find the actor playing Christian Grey about as appealing as a swamp possum. Here Jamie Dornan is actually kind of creepy, I guess because he's supposed to be tortured and all. But he and Dakota Johnson have exactly zero chemistry. (He reminds me of passive aggressive Keir Dullea who snatches up one of the lesbian lovers in The Fox.)

2) The film doesn't spend enough time stressing what's at stake for the characters. I kept waiting for some sort of real conflict to kick in. What do each of them stand to lose? The only burning issue is whether they will get into a real S&M partnership, but the whole thing is soft-pedaled. Ana just seems to mull it over: Do I want coffee? Should I take a yoga class? Should I kneel naked and handcuffed for hours while this dude smacks me on me naughty bits with leather fringe?

3) There is no sizzle. The film has zero tension. Now, if Ana had exhibited real fear or more open curiosity or even freaked out about being a submissive, that would be interesting. If she threatened to out him as a weirdo to his family, his company, and the media, that would be interesting. If the flick had more overtly demonstrated that Christian was struggling against falling in love with her and considering giving up the dominant behavior, that would be interesting. But neither the script nor these actors do anything but walk through the setups.

4) For a film about dominant/submissive relationships, Fifty Shades doesn't really explore the psychology of that world. We see Dakota writhing around, but does she gain real pleasure from being put in the submissive position, or is she only doing it to please Christian? He promises that she will feel absolute freedom and total ecstasy in her role. But that doesn't seem to be what's going down for Miss Steele. (In the 90s, I read the erotic Sleeping Beauty trilogy by Anne Rice, under the nom de plume A.N. Roquelaure. Now THAT was a deep dive into a fully detailed WORLD of S&M dominants and submissives, with explicit descriptions of the freaky sex acts and twisted torments going down; but the books also disclosed revelations about the intimate bonds and powerful lessons of humility gained by the participants, and explored the unique human relationship between pleasure and pain.)

5) 50 Shades is really the age-old story of a girl meeting a Bad Boy and deciding that she can change him. Of course, she can't. When she finally figures out that she can't, she leaves.

I was surprised when the film ended, because I was expecting a more interesting twist. With her final "No," I wanted Ana to turn the tables and become the dominatrix that Christian so clearly needs. I wanted that "No" to be backed with "Christian, now you are going to meet me in the game room on your knees, buddy."

Now that would have been interesting.