Kingsman: The Secret Service is a fantastic satire that points out the flaws inherent to our most recent 007.
Kingsman follows Eggsy, a young misfit from east London who gets caught up in the world of espionage. Kingsman harkens back to Roger Moore style of Bond. The kind of Bond that blows Kanaga the fuck up!
Kingman does a good job reminded modern audiences that the ideals we’ve instilled into our bond don’t jive with his universe. Bond can’t be reformed and brutal. He can’t be violent and PC. Kingsman fights against the idea of a reformed Bond at every corner. “Eggsy” didn’t grow up on Skyfall ranch like some pompous prat; he stole cars from gangsters and got chased by the boys in blue. But don’t worry, he’s still got heart…
That’s the second flaw they point out. That reserved behavior has nothing to do with inner altruism. Or as Hemmingway put it: “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.” Our hero, Eggsy, fits the bill. He makes damn sure that no animals were harmed in the making of the film.
He’s well restrained by the Karmic Balance of his universe—but, I can’t say the same about the villians. Samuel Jackson doesn’t wait around for the hero’s to escape from their ties. He flat out murders them while simultaneously getting disgusted at the sight of their blood. He’s the personification of PC culture: the idea that you can reserve your violence. Samuel Jackson has fun playing the walking contradiction of filtered media, as well.
People may criticize Kingsman because the guy gets the girl as a trophy at the end for his good deeds, but Kingsman knows what it’s doing. It’s not turning back the clock on feminism when he has surprise butt sex with a princess at the end—yes, that happens. It’s wearing the clock around it its neck like fucking Flavor Flav and informing the audience that their PC shit doesn’t belong in this universe. My only criticism of Kingsman is that it didn’t go far enough.