Saturday 25 March 2017

Kingsman: The Secret Service

Colin Firth is...Colin Firth, same as always. But that's a good thing, isn't it? We haven't got totally fed up of his suave Britishness like we did Hugh Grant's stumble-bumble Britishness. Not yet. Anyway, he's a spy but it's not a government run thing, it's a secret society known as Kingsmen. But otherwise it's basically Bond with a junior Bond storyline thrown in for good measure.

Which is where Taron Egerton comes in with his kind of odd name as though he's American or made it up but he's actually like well chavvy n that. In this movie. When he's being Eddie the Eagle he's not chavvy. But he is much dumber. Lovably dumber. The Brits love a plucky loser. Wonder why more of us don't like Donald Trump, then?

Anyway (again), lost my train of thought there (again). Yup, Firth owes Egerton (even his surname sounds made up) a favour as he was present when the teenager's dad died during final training to become a cool spy. So he throws him a chance to do the same training and maybe die during the final part of it.

Michael Caine is the boss but don't get excited, he's emailing most of his performance in. Some young posho types are also in the training which we see scenes from alternating with an escalating plot involving the deaths, disappearances and some form of control over influential people of the world. Behind this scheme is Samuel L. Jackson but channelling Will.i.am for some reason. Trigger warning, one scene contains a very, very bad pun at the expense of McDonald's.

Egsy (Egerton's character has almost as odd a name as he does in real life but it's ok as it's a nickname), goes through various rites of passage scenarios. Yes they're faintly predictable but this isn't a movie trying to reinvent the wheel. This is a Matthew Vaughn film which from the off should lead you to expect some high class violence without too much gore and a better sense of humour than Guy Ritchie's films have displayed since Snatch. Much of the best violence comes from Jackson's henchwoman, Sofia Boutella.

End of the world as we know it scenario for the climax?  But of course. That's what we want from our spy films. Oh and for Michael Caine to say the word 'fuck' in that peerless guttural way of his. Does the world end? Does Samuel L Jackson get away with it or does he get thwarted by some pesky kids? Let's just say there's a sequel in the planning. Which is a good thing.

Monday 20 March 2017

The Rack Pack

Well today's  movie can best be described as a curio. It's about world matchplay snooker, as far as I am aware only the second of its kind after the weirdly wonderful 'Billy the Kid and the Green Baize Vampire' This however is a biopic set around wild boy Alex Higgins and socially inept Steve Davis and reads like a tabletop Hunt Vs Lauda, but with a completely different set of balls. Inexplicably I had a bit of a thing about snooker during the time this is set so I kinda relate to it, but just like ‘Rush’, and indeed every other sports related movie I can think of, the script takes some liberties with the historical events to adrenaline up what is essentially a bunch of men nudging balls around a table with little sticks. If you look behind the rather overblown personalities however it rather effectively shows the transformation of a slightly seedy niche game into a money spinning televised ‘sport’.  

What really lets this movie down is the Danny Dyersville acting. From Luke Treadaway’s angst ridden Alex Higgins and Will Merrick’s fright wigging Steve Davis, the cast stomp around the script like toddlers in Doc Martins. Surely the BBC and the UK can do better than this for thespy talent? The only person who comes out of this with any kind of distinction is Kevin Bishop as svengali/manager Barry Hearn. Overall an experience that slices a yellow rather than pots a black.