Credit where it's undeniably due, when you put your money down to see Dexter Fletcher's Elton John biopic, RocketMan, you know pretty much exactly what to expect, and that’s pretty much exactly what’s delivered. The fact that the film is also (mostly) fantastic is a bonus atop of this directional clarity.
SAILING It’s not all plain sailing. I struggled with the two child-iterations of our hero and storyteller, the whole thing having a distinct am-dram air as a heavy-handed rendition of childhood strife is laid out for the hard-of-thinking in the audience. But at the moment - that very frame - where Taron Egerton takes the reins, I instantly relaxed back into my seat with the thought ’ahh, it’s going to be great now’. And so it proved. The Kingsman star is shaping up to be one of the greatest performers of his generation, effortlessly endearing even when he’s portraying a self-confessed diva.
On that subject, naturally this whole thing should be taken with a pinch of salt so large it requires its own health warning. Sure, we see Elton John as a self-obsessed bundle of nervous energy, self aggrandisement and bad decision-making, but never forget that this is Elton John’s version of bad-boy Elton John. Many scenes seem to carry the subtext that things were probably either nowhere near that bad or about a hundred times worse. Let's just say that you don’t need to wait until the closing credits tell you that Elton John was the executive producer of this to work out that Elton John was the executive producer of this.
LEGEND
But the music’s great (as you’d expect) and the flashback-based structure is loose enough to have fun with the well-known facts while not getting too bogged down in plot-minutiae. All was going swimmingly until one particular climactic moment where I may or may not have broken The Code by muttering “oh fuck off!”, so needlessly literal is its amateur-hour psychoanalysis. But that’s fine because we still end on a high, and the ride leading up to it was great fun. Bonus points for the 'what happened next' cards which close out the film, in case anyone is sitting in the auditorium thinking 'yeah, because Elton's kept a very low profile since 1990, is he still around at all..?
Oh, and how come in the John Lewis advert he gets the piano for Christmas and is instantly entranced by it, but in this film the piano's just in the dining room anyway and he starts playing it one day for no reason?
It is, but watch it in the cinema for the full effect.
Fletcher goes from strength to strength, Egerton is fantastic as always*1
Bryce Dallas Howard should be a fun revelation, but her accent's Downton Abbey one moment and Eastenders the next. And while there are some scenes where she's putting on airs, I don't think that's intentional for the amount of times she wanders over the line.
As much as I love most of this film, that's still a distinct possibility.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
Having left Matthew Vaughn's follow-up spy caper to breathe for a couple of weeks, I found that my enthusiasm for the sequel wasn't diminished exactly, but I didn't really get anything 'more' out of re-watching (in much the same way as the film doesn't really add anything more to the first movie), especially with the more critical eye that a second-pass always brings.
Kingsman: The Golden Circle is far too long; not necessarily in run-time, but in the sheer number of 'boss battles' in the third-act. Taron Egerton and Colin Firth only really succeed here by building on the character foundations of The Secret Service, whereas Julianne Moore is doing her damnedest to pour two pints into a role which can only hold one. And Mark Strong can barely speak in that Scottish accent, let alone sing in it*1. The film is frequently derivative not only of itself*2, but also of other works in the superhero genre*3 from which it borrows, stylistically*4. The gender politics are still broadly worrying given the female input at the screenwriting stage*5, and the script's approach to arbitrarily killing off characters becomes an emotional anaesthetic in the first act*6.
But I still enjoyed the hell out of it. The Golden Circle does a lot of things it really doesn't need to, but I don't believe it does anything it shouldn't...
The film-makers are banking on you having watched and enjoyed the first Kingsman movie.
If you can, do.
The film doesn't aim particularly high, so pretty much yeah.
It's not.
I won't.
There is, it's buried in shootout outside the diner.
*2 Using drugs as tampered-with conusumer-products is effectively a criminalised equivalent of the SIM cards from the first movie, especially when the film then starts pleading the moral innocence of casual users. [ BACK ]
*3 This is a superhero movie, but with spies in it. Nothing wrong with that, but that's what it is. [ BACK ]
*4 In addition to point one, the 'mass hostage' angle is a fairly direct play on Tim Burton's 1989 Batman with the Joker holding Gotham's citizens to ransom using compromised toiletries and cleaning products. And it's not as if an ally from a first installment has never come back in the sequel, brainwashed by an enemy organisation and with a cybernetic arm. Surprised they didn't call him The Summer Soldier... [ BACK ]
*5 While it's become the elephant in the room elsewhere, I think 'the tent scene' with Eggsy and Clara is just unnecessary, rather than outright malicious. It's certainly no worse than many of Bond's bedroom moments, even if it's more direct in its approach. But since the sequence only serves to demonstrate that Eggsy is genuinely committed to Tilde, it's a long and arbitrary way of doing so. All Clara herself there for is to provide a tracking-link to the secret lab in the Italian Alps (where she's later killed on a whim anyway). That could have been sourced a hundred other ways; no-one had to get fingered for Poppy's base in Cambodia to be finally located... [ BACK ]
*6 We don't really see people actually dying in Poppy's multiple missile-strikes of course, but since Harry previously took an on-screen shot to the eye and still came back, the dramatic weight of the bloodless UK assault is reduced to more or less nothing. If Harry can be resurrected, so can Roxy who we only saw legging it off the bed as the missile approached. Lead-lined fridge for the threequel, anyone?[ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
I'll keep this short and sweet. You've probably arrived at this review with two questions. The answer to your first is 'yes, very much'. The answer to your second, 'of course not, how could it be?'.
The eagerly awaited followup to the 2015 hit, Kingsman: The Golden Circle knows what made its predecessor work and knows what made it falter. Screenwriter Jane Goldman returns with writer/director Matthew Vaughn, and they use this knowledge wisely to tiptoe around audience expectations. Set around a year after The Secret Service, the story sees Kingsman™ intelligence agents Galahad (Taron Egerton) and Merlin (Mark Strong) teaming up with their American counterparts Statesman™ led by Champ (Jeff Bridges), to stop a crazed entrepreneur (Julianne Moore) killing vast swathes of civilisation with poisoned recreational drugs. Other characters from the first outing return, but to go into that would be to unfurl plot points, and this is a spoiler-free joint tonight.
Now, the good news is that the cast (reprising or otherwise) are all largely on great form, and the issues which hampered the previous movie don't really apply here (and 'that troublesome line' gets a reference at a similar point in this film which is laugh-out-loud funny, at least). The action is slick, the language is foul, the CGI is better than last time and the shell-casing count is off the chart. The Golden Circle is a very enjoyable flick. And be warned, it's also another one for this year to bow at the altar of John Denver.
But at the same time, there are far more moments in Vaughn's sequel than you expect than ones you don't. It never becomes a flat-out retread, but much like GotG2, it's impossible to top the unique buzz of an unexpected hit when everybody's looking forward to your follow-up, especially when there are the requisite number of callbacks to be made anyway.The story serves as a solid continuation of the events we witnessed last time, but brings nothing in the way of new toys to the sandbox.
But when it comes down to it, Kingsman: The Golden Circle is smart, fun, genuinely touching in places and more than acceptable in the cinematic roller-coaster which is 2017. Just temper your expectations and you won't go too far wrong…
Kingsman, pretty much.
If you're going to watch it at all, watch it big, yes.
I'm not entirely convinced at this point that the film knows what it wants to achieve.
It's a more-than-passable sequel however, so let's go for a yes.
It's not.
I won't.
Didn't hear one.
Level 1: This film's got Sam 'Windu' Jackson in it, albeit very briefly and in a flashback sequence. Still counts, though.
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
When I was four, I wanted to be Mark Hamill. Well, I wanted to be Luke Skywalker, but the two were indistinguishable at that age, and remained so for some time. Whether it was the loose-fitting desert tunic, the pristine stolen stormtrooper armour or a heavy-drill orange flight-suit, these were outfits I wanted to wear, to be like my hero. Forty years later, I watch Mark Hamill in this movie*1, an appreciator of fine whisky in a brown corduroy jacket… and nothing has changed.
Anyhow, from the mind of Mark Millar comes Kingsman: The Secret Service, the comic-book roots spawning a perfect cinematic mashup of spies and superheroes. After its original run two and a half years ago, revisiting Eggsy's first outing on a big screen doesn't really deliver any new or prescient insights, it's just bloody good fun still. Back in 2015, this felt like it could be the first charge in a new wave of action cinema; not so much re-inventing the wheel, just reminding you how cool the wheel can be when it's done right, although tonally we haven't since had anything comparable other than Deadpool and maybe John Wick.
Absolutely perfect in its pacing and approach, this is the classic Hero's Journey for the 21st century. While Colin Firth, Mark Strong and Sam Jackson are all great value for money, Taron Egerton holds the whole thing together effortlessly, suggesting that he's going to be a (welcome) fixture on our screens for many years to come.
It's perhaps notable that the film which ran tonight was the original cinematic print, rather than one of the edited versions that later hit the home-release market. Fair play to 20th Century Fox*2 for sticking to their guns with that one, I suppose; it passed classification once and there's no point being defensively revisionist about it, right?*3
But all in all, this is amazing. And the church-scene is still one of the greatest action sequences ever committed to film. Kingsman: The Secret Service is a thing of profane beauty…
Oh but for the record, you do realise that even if the gun is loaded with blanks, you'll still be looking after a deafened dog for the rest of its traumatised life, don't you? Well done Caine, now get back in your bloody attick…
As fantastic as the movie is, probably not, due to the strength of the talent involved.
Nope.
I'm not hearing one. Help me out here?
Level 1: This film's got Mace Windu and Luke Skywalker in it of course, but as of December last year, Lt. Frobb from off of Rogue One is there, too.
*1 Although this time Mark is the tutor, and it's Taron Egerton who gets to shoot white-armoured troops while running around polished corridors in an enemy fortress to rescue a princess. Boom.[ BACK ]
*2 It hasn't escaped my attention that in Harry's office, all the front-pages he has on display are from The S*n newspaper, owned by one R*pert M*rdoch, the same tycoon also owns 20th Century Fox, this film's distributor. And sure, this could be a coincidence, until you get to the sequel film in which all news-bulletin reports (even ones taking place in the UK) are branded as F*x News, also owned by… well, you get the picture. And as much as I try not to let my political affiliations colour either this blog or my cinema-viewing in general, I'd be lying if I said that didn't leave a slightly bad taste in the mouth. [ BACK ]
*3 Knowing I'd be writing separately about The Secret Service, I went back over my two previous reviews in 2015 to see what I'd covered at the time. I'd forgotten quite how annoyed I was by the film's gender politics. Not necessarily how shoddily the female characters are treated (cf. most other screenplays, ever), but how that's come about when the rest of the movie is so consistently strong. Let's just say that while I still genuinely love the first Kingsman flick, I stand by every single word I wrote about its flaws.
[ BACK ]
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
It's the 28th of March, and we in the UK have just performed the bi-annual ritual of padding around the house looking for wall-clocks, thermostats and microwaves to change the time on, as we stride into British Summer Time. And it might not be a massive coincidence that this week sees the Monday-release*1 of Olympic biopic Eddie the Eagle, because this is a film you can set your watch by...
Every single frame has been labouredly engineered for maximum cloying effect, with director Dexter Fletcher and producer Matthew Vaughn poring over the British Underdog Movie Handbook until the pages started to wear through. The titular Edwards' humble beginnings, his supportive parents, and never-say-die attitude are absolutely textbook, as is the pantomime-like performance of the sneering detractors and contemporaries that surround him at every turn*2, the mechanical structure of the once-failed-mentor archetype and the film score which tells you Exactly What To Think All Of The Time. Eddie The Eagle also uses the musically-backed-training-montage like it invented the damned thing. And then Christopher Walken turns up and plays Christopher Walken™.
The fact that this film is based around true events actually (or should actually) gives it less of an excuse to follow the tried and tested formula, as it feels like it's somehow not trying hard enough by relying on a structure we're all familiar with anyway. But on it ploughs, the phrase "Feel-good crowd-pleaser" seemingly red-stamped over every page of the script. Even if you know nothing about the history of Britain's favourite underdog, this film holds absolutely no surprises.
It's also really fucking good.
Much like its subject and the aspects of his situation he can't control, the film has its own inherent obstacles that have to be conquered before it can win the hearts of the audience. And much like its subject, the film succeeds on charm, rather than outright ability. You can be every bit as cynical and jaded as I was walking into this movie, but if Eddie's final 90m jump at the 1988 Winter Olympics doesn't have goosebumps on your neck and a tear in your eye, you're probably some kind of robot.
And it's all down to Taron Egerton in the title-role, with an insanely likeable performance that never gives in to mawkishness even when the rest of the movie does. To capture the raw essence of optimism, his is the hardest job in the film; and he's the one that does the best because of it. Hugh Jackman is amusing and reliable as his trainer, Bronson Peary (but as noted above, has little to bring to an already-clichéd role), and Eddie's parents played by Jo Hartley and Ceith Allen are great support, the surrogate-audience within the film willing Eddie to triumph. But the film really works because of Egerton's performance, and would be a dud without him.
Sure, Eddie The Eagle will be lauded by the kind of outlets you wouldn't normally take serious recommendations from*3, and will be a mainstay in the 'Ideas for Mother's Day' POS displays for years to come. But you owe it to yourself to see it just once. And those first-person-perspective ski-jumps look phenomenal on a big screen, so now's your chance...
Any British Underdog Movie™ of the 1990s.
The film deserves your support at the box-office, yes.
Against my expectations, and against its own obstacles, yes.
Dexter Fletcher is the man who directed Sunshine On Leith".
I'll just leave that there.
Nah.
Nah.
Level 2: Taron Egerton was in that Kingsman: The Secret Service along with Mark 'Skywalker' Hamill and Sam 'Windu' Jackson.
*1 A phenomenon we're seeing more and more of, lately. Traditionally, new movies would come out on a Friday, maybe a Thursday. Occasionally we'd even get a Wednesday release, but this was seen as a transparent ploy to extend the film's precious opening weekend takings, as anything before the end of the first Sunday counts toward that total. Are Monday releases just the studios' way of saying "fuck it, we'll have the week's worth"? Because once everyone starts doing that, the comparative figures will mean nothing again (although it's debatable if they mean anything to anyone outside of the accounting departments anyway). If only there was a collective push at making movies as artistically and aesthetically competitive, but hey.
*2 Really though, I know the role description is "Snooty and Dismissive Head of Olympic Selection Committee", but Tim McInnerny should be ashamed of his performance in this film, playing the part on 11 when it only needs 8. Mark Benton and Jim Broadbent are only a short way behind him, but are at least absolved by having fewer lines on-screen...
*2 And I self-deprecatingly include World Of Blackout in that spectrum. What's that? I'm doing a great job here and you value and respect my opinions even if you don't always agree with them? Oh, be quiet you lot, saying those things...
DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.
