THE KING’S MAN, A Prequel to a Sequel No One Needed
Ralph Fiennes stars as one of the most ineffectual heroes—super or otherwise—in recent cinematic history.
Writer-director Matthew Vaughn’s (X-Men: First Class, Kick-Ass, Layer Cake) latest film, The King’s Man, the perplexing prequel to the unnecessary sequel Kingsman: The Golden Circle, sat in a studio’s virtual vault for a solid two years, due to a combination of an uncontrollable global pandemic rapidly shuttering movie theaters worldwide and the ill-considered, ill-timed decision to delay the original November 2019 release by what was supposed to be just a few months (the best laid plans, etc.). That multi-month delay eventually turned into a two-year push back, but given the tonally inconsistent, repellently reactionary result that Vaughn and his collaborators decided to deliver to audiences, The King’s Man might as well stayed in that virtual vault for another decade.
Purporting to be an origin story for the “King’s Man,” an extra-judicial, independent, wholly unsupervised spy agency apparently answerable to no governmental body, operating by and within their own code of moral and ethical conduct, The King’s Man hits a century-long rewind button on the series that began in 2014 as an R-rated action-spoof of the James Bond series. The film focuses on Orlando Oxford (Ralph Fiennes), a wealthy aristocrat who’s dedicated his ample time to doing everything and anything to safeguard King, Queen, and Country. Though he begins a pacifist, the prologue promptly fridges his wife and leaves him with the equivalent of a deathbed promise: Keeping his son, Conrad (Harris Dickinson, Beach Rats), from serving in the King’s Army and accruing all the glory and shiny medals he imagines will follow.
Given the jingoistic tone and nationalistic fervor of the film’s period, Conrad repeatedly attempts to circumvent his late mother’s wishes and his father’s promise to said dead mother. To get Conrad’s mind off military service, the elder Oxford convinces his reluctant son to join him on a super-secret mission to uncover a potential conspiracy against the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria (Ron Cook) and the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Spoiler: They fail. They fail because for all of The King’s Man’s efforts to throw secret societies, international conspiracies, and Scottish-accented puppet masters into a chaotic mix of action, drama, and comedy, the First World War still unfolds as it did in the real world.
Vaughn posits a European secret history where the Duke of Oxford—working alongside his son, his body man/valet/lifelong servant, Shola (Djimon Hounsou), his housekeeper/markswoman Polly (Gemma Arterton, sadly wasted in a do-nothing role), and house staff-turned-spies placed in key houses, palaces, and government offices around Europe—can turn the tide of World War I around or at least minimize the cataclysmic effects of modern warfare on Europe. (Twenty million were killed during the actual First World War, and another 20 million were wounded.). For all of Oxford’s comic book-inspired efforts to save the world from a devastating war, nothing he does or tries to do changes the timeline in any significant or even noticeable way, easily making Oxford one of the most ineffectual heroes, super or otherwise, in recent cinematic history.
Even worse? Vaughan switches mid-film from an absurdist, comical take on war to a grim-and-gritty one centered on trench warfare, including the brutal, unnecessary deaths of men for the overweening egos of their commanding officers and politicians back home. That poorly motivated switch, however, occurs moments after The King’s Man segues to Russia and a super-secret mission to eliminate Grigori Rasputin (Rhys Ifans), the Russian “monk” turned ruinous advisor to Tsar Nicholas II (Tom Hollander). Like several other major and minor characters, Rasputin isn’t his own man or woman (Mata Hari makes a nonspeaking cameo, for anyone keeping track). He’s just another puppet on a string, manipulating the tsar not to his own ends, but to the mostly offscreen Scottish-accented puppet master who apparently just wants to see the world burn.
The King’s Man picks up momentum again during its final moments as a newly reinvigorated Orlando, tossing any thoughts of pacifism aside, leads a not particularly well-planned assault on a mountain fortress. Vaughn may be at his worst when he lets his pro-colonialism, pro-imperialism politics slip nuance-free into the overarching storyline, but he’s at his best when he’s laser focused on the nuts-and-bolts of constructing effective action sequences. The helter-skelter, cacophonous climax almost (operative word being “almost”) makes up for the multiple head-scratching missteps that preceded it. Ultimately, however, The King’s Man fails to justify its existence outside of Vaughn’s desire to make an early 20th-century period action-comedy or give Fiennes, an underused performer often relegated to supporting or character turns in recent years, a standalone franchise to call his own.
The King’s Man opens theatrically Wednesday, December 22nd.
