TBT Kingsman: The Secret Service

Kingsman: The Secret Service, 2015

Directed by Matthew Vaughn , 129 minutes

Colin Firth, Samuel L. Jackson, Taron Egerton, Michael Caine, Mark Strong

Review by Katherine Scheetz

Get in line Deadpool (2016), you aren’t the first R-rated comic book movie.

Based on the story by Icon Comics writer Mark Millar, Kingsman: The Secret Service opens with Harry Hart (a badass Firth) as a gentleman spy - code name: Galahad - in the Kingsman, the modern-day knights. He’s mid-operation overseas when he loses a promising young Kingsman-in-training with a wife and child back in England.

Fast forward 17 years and that child, Gary “Eggsy” Unwin (Egerton, in his first film) is a brilliant plebe who has made a lot of bad calls.  Hart bails him out of jail and recognizing his father’s inherent talent, recommends him for the Kingsman elite training program. Merlin (a sarcastic, Scottish Strong) serves as home base trainer to Eggsy and the other young Brits vying for the spot of “Lancelot” on the Kingsman.

Meanwhile, megalomaniac tech villain Valentine (Jackson, with a lisp) claims mankind is a virus creating the fever of global warming and plans to purge the overpopulated earth with a radical cure. The hero, the protégé, the villain, the henchman, the gadgets – it’s all there.

X-Men: First Class (2011) and Kick-Ass (2010) tongue-and-cheek director Matthew Vaughn smartly paces this packed-in story using three well-conceived waves – backstory, training and epic conclusion.

It reciprocates the bold and brassy Bond-esque action theme coined by composers Henry Jackman and Matthew Margeson. The team doesn’t disappoint with superb musical selections ranging from “Free Bird” during a Westboro-Baptist-meets-Tarantino-slaughter and “Pomp and Circumstance” while politicians’ head’s explode in satirical fireworks. Vaughn also plays with some clever little scene changes, from champagne bubbles to assembly line printing of Valentine’s evil SIM cards.

It’s an undeniably strong cast with Firth, Strong and Egerton at the helm, who have the salaciously cheeky script – co-written by Vaughn and Jane Goldman – wrapped around their fingers. We leave wanting a pocket-sized Colin Firth for those times when we need quotes like “Manners maketh man,” and with last week’s provocative sequel poster released, can we dare to hope?

I’m only sorry I didn’t I see this one sooner.

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Eddie the Eagle

Eddie the Eagle, 2016

Directed by Dexter Fletcher, 106 minutes

Taron Edgerton, Hugh Jackman

Review by Katherine Scheetz

Set in the age of Charles and Diana chinaware, Taron Edgerton is Eddie Edwards, the massively far-sighted son of a “plucky plasterer” and born with “dodgy knees.” But his ambition to become an Olympian – and his precious and supportive mother (Jo Hartley) – stop at nothing to get him to the 1988 Olympics.

From the time Edwards knocks the entire British ski team down domino style, to his scrunched up nose as he wipes the his fogged up glasses with his fingers, Edgerton is idiotically charming. His jowl-heavy frown before each jump is well studied.

Writers Sean Macaulay and Simon Kelton light the story with panache. Lines roll trippingly and with the exception of the excessive heart-to-hearts, there are no wipe-outs.

Among the over-abundance of training montages, the height of entertainment is reached when fallen-from-grace ski jumper Peary (Jackman), rolling his eyes, decides to help the determined “gum on his shoe,” aka Eddie. Talking Eddie through the art of bringing Bo Derek to her full as a method of approach for the 70-meter jump, Eddie leaps into Peary’s arms, Dirty Dancing-style, over and over until he lets out a little “wee” in – let’s be British about this – excitement.

Aided by a synthesizer driven soundtrack, the buoyancy of Eddie’s optimism leaks right out of the screen. And while the movie isn’t heavy on cinematic flair, the Alps make for beautiful establishing shots and the symmetry of Peary’s aviator sunglasses is subtly appreciated.

The wardrobe department nails it by equipping the Edwards’ family with a badass collection of jumpers (we see what you did there, Fletcher). Points for reminding us of Mrs. Weasley’s Christmas sweaters.

 Eddie’s biopic might be formulaic, but the witty writing comes to life through the bromance of Peary and Eddie and its undeniable charm is as technicolor as an 80s workout video.   

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