The KINGSMAN — a film review — wherein I proceed to rant…

 

So yesterday, some of our anniversary plans were abandoned when it started raining all day, and we decided to go to a movie. We picked randomly, glancing at one trailer online, and thought we were going to watch a sort of funny, maybe a little over-the-top James Bond-ish (wait… is that redundant?) film starring Colin Firth. Because, you know, *Colin Firth* and my husband was willing to put up with it.

The first third (or so) of the movie, I kinda kept waiting for the movie to start, and then by the middle of the movie, I started wondering what drugs they had put into my drink and pizza (this is the place where you can order meals with your film)… because said film was making less and less sense, and by the last third, my jaw had very literally dropped and I turned (several times) to my husband and asked, “Did they just say (or do) what I think they just said? (or did?)” and he would nod, his jaw equally dropped.

If 007 and The Boondocks Saints (which I liked) had had a baby, fed it constant drugs and violence, and it grew up with zero regard for any human life whatsoever, and didn’t even bother to pretend to engage your empathy, it would be the film Kingsman.

The carnage alone… I just. I… no.

This was one of the most singularly stupid films I think I have ever paid money to view, and I really really want my money and those hours back. And just for the record, the stupid, and I do mean entirely *stupid* little princess subplot/resolution at the end made me want to break the filmmakers arms off and beat them with the bloody ends.

If you ever liked Colin Firth in anything and don’t want that so entirely ruined for you for the rest of your life, you will run and hide from this hideous excuse for… well, I can’t even figure out what they were doing, except letting Colin Firth prove that he can do action scenes.

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