KINGSMAN: THE SECRET SERVICE

Not another spy film, I hear you groan. But this one is different – stick with me, and I'll tell you how...

You may have seen the posters for Colin Firth’s new film ‘Kingsman: The Secret Service’: Firth in a beautifully cut suit with an umbrella, framed by a woman’s legs ending in running blades. I have to hand it to the advertisers – that poster is an excellent introduction to a film that is unapologetically, unashamedly, bonkers.

Firth plays one of the Kingsmen – a secret agency of rather dapper chaps, led by Michael Caine, and tasked with keeping the world safe (or whatever definition of safe seems most appropriate at the time, though that’s a discussion for another day). Firth’s character Harry sees potential in Eggsy (Taron Egerton), a young man on the slippery slope to career criminality. Eggsy trains to become a Kingsman, while the villain paves the way for his world-ending plan.

And what a villain he is: Samual L. Jackson chews the scenery with relish as Valentine, a lisping megalomaniac afraid of blood but with the resources to turn every mobile phone into a weapon. His plan is to cull the Earth’s population to improve conditions for a select (very wealthy) few. His henchwoman, she of the sharpened shins, Gazelle (underutilised actress Sofia Boutella) likes to kill people with a mixture of parkour and krav-maga, severing limbs and decapitating bodies. While Jackson is clearly enjoying his role, I couldn’t find his affected lisp anything more than an annoying distraction. I’m sure it was meant to add a little more levity to the character, but we all know Jackson could do that easily, without having to resort to gimmicks.