Kingsman: The Golden Circle, film review: The spy who lost me

So long, suckers! Matthew Vaughn’s action spy sequel spoofs the kind of cartoon baddies who plot to rule the world. But it’s Vaughn himself who seems to have joined the dark side. His (so very long) offering treats audience members as if they were gormless, sniggering teens.

In case you’re wondering, I adored the first film. For those who missed it, Kingsman: The Secret Service is about sweet-natured young oik Eggsy (Taron Egerton), who gets inducted by mercurial gent Harry Hart (Colin Firth) into a spy ring.

Eggsy and his plucky fellow recruit Roxy discover that being a gentleman has nothing to do with accents or gender. Assaulting elitism at every turn, they ultimately wipe out the one per cent, including the Queen of England. It’s not every day the Queen gets her head blown off. Kingsman dared to be different, even managing, at its most violent, to deconstruct blood-lust. And it worshipped every last, squiggly guitar bit in Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird. Yep, there was a lot to love.

Given that both films are written by Vaughn and Jane Goldman it’s hard to understand why the follow-up is cruel, spineless, virtually laughter-free and, above all, dull. Even putting the plot to paper makes my head ache. Ah, well.

Having laced endless batches of drugs with a lethal component in order to force the American President to end the war on drugs, Americana-loving, Cambodia-based cartel boss Poppy (Julianne Moore, underused) orchestrates an attack on Kingsman HQ with the help of Eggsy’s dastardly old enemy Charlie (Edward Holcroft).

Luckily, Eggsy discovers that England has a special relationship with the US. He and Merlin (Mark Strong) head to a distillery in Kentucky where fellow spies Tequila (Channing Tatum) and Ginger Ale (Halle Berry) outline Eggsy’s new mission, which involves him going back to England. Before coming back to Kentucky… Arrgh! Never underestimate the pain caused by a convoluted synopsis.

Anyway, during the trip to England things turn nasty. Charlie has a British girlfriend, Clara (Poppy Delevingne), who is a Tinder junkie. Eggsy, exploiting this weakness, visits the Glastonbury festival and plants a tracker in Clara’s vagina. That’s right. She’s guilty of liking casual sex and her punishment is swift: Eggsy, literally, sticks it to her.

And then, metaphorically, he sticks it to her again. In a later scene, one so gratuitously unpleasant it makes you rub your ears in disbelief, he lets Charlie know that Clara was up for it in Glasto. Just to be clear: Clara is too flaky to be a threat to humanity yet our hero, basically, puts a target on her back. Which makes it actively spooky that the film wants to position him as moral.

Some might point to Eggsy’s love for Princess Tilde (the principled Swedish gal he met in the first film) as proof that he’s a New Man. He resists having penetrative sex with Clara because he wants to be true to his woman. Who, wait for it, is desperate for a white wedding and sulks when Eggsy doesn’t propose on cue. What decade are we in, again?

Ironically, one of the few interesting things about Tilde is her attitude to buggery. In a scene from the original that many found crass and sexist she offered her un-lubed bum to Eggsy as a reward for saving the world.

This time round she enthusiastically implies she’s ready to do it once more. It’s abundantly clear that she enjoys anal sex (possibly more than Eggsy). She’s not coy, just shy about acknowledging her predilection.

A few other elements of Kingsman 2 prove diverting. Poppy’s cunning plan causes recreational drug users to dance like loons (tragically, Moore herself never gets into the groove, but Tatum kicks his heels in an altogether lovely way).

As for the many gory fight scenes, all are pale shadows of the first film’s church massacre, as well as being overly reliant on CGI. But they do move like a freakily fluid dream (as if the insanely supple gymnast Simone Biles were in charge of the camera). And though it is preposterous that Harry, presumed dead, makes a re-appearance, Firth’s acting is so good that you mostly don’t mind. He’s at his best when Harry, disconsolate in tracksuit bottoms, is muttering about his mother. Firth gives Hart a soul.

Elton John (playing himself and kung-fu kicking in platform heels) is the other highlight. Poppy, having dragged the singer to Cambodia, offers him special protection. So do the film-makers. Elton, in the film, dabbles in drugs and, unlike the other major characters who “use”, doesn’t get made an example of. One lad promises to swear off weed. Someone else is told to “stick to booze”. It’s not that Elton, here, promotes substance abuse, it’s that he swerves establishment sermonising. In a blockbuster that’s often outrageously conservative he effortlessly squares the circle and manages to be both naughty and nice.

Cert 15, 141 mins