Kingsman: the Secret Service & Good and Bad Stuff on the Tube

I guess I’m old and the world has passed me by. So much of life today is a mystery to me. The music today doesn’t sound like music to me; conversation is an extinct animal; I keep seeing all these grungy guys with the three- to five-day beards, I hear f-bombs and m-f-bombs from virtually every mouth and in virtually every movie I go to, I see way too many impossible car chases and way too much blood and violence as one person wreaks stomach-churning damage on another person. And today I made the grievous mistake of going to see Kingsman: the Secret Service. Most of the reviewers both professional and amateur thought it was a wonderful spoof of all the James Bonds and Jack Baurs and Jason Bournes. All those predecessors just named were stylish in their violence, often funny in their hyperbolic action, visually stunning. Kingsman took it way over the top and Colin Firth should be ashamed for having been talked into this role as secret agent Harry Hart. I won’t go far into the plot (which went only a few feet): Harry Hart recruits young Eggsy (Taron Egerton) to replace a fallen agent into Kingsman (a really really secret British agency), who then goes into what seemed like a year-long competition against nine others to see which would be the one agent chosen to join the ranks. Meanwhile, a multi-billionaire named Richmond Valentine (Samuel L. Jackson) decided to use his money to rid the world of about 99% of the population to save the world for his chosen elite by giving away free access to phones and internet with a chip that would turn those who took the freebie into homicidal maniacs. Whoa! And then the bloodbath begins. Dumb. This is a movie I should have walked out on, but a movie has to be even worse than this one was for me to walk out. Rosalie would have walked out and I’d have been right behind her.

And while I'm at knocking stuff I've seen recently, let me say a word or two about this season's American Idol. The audition weeks were all pretty good and we were excited about seeing what these chosen 24 signers might do when it came down to the final competition. And then this week's showing of the 12 guys and 12 ladies. Not good. Idol seems to be more interested in performance than in singing. If you can shriek really high and can shake your booty you've got a chance. Then there were the really awful waving arms that Idol has found necessary for way too many seasons, and the abbreviated comments by the judges telling each of them how good they were. Finally, finally, we're going to say goodbye to Idol, and stick to remembering all the really great singers they've introduced over the years.

Comment or two about what's good on the tube. Better Call Saul, The Slap, and the PBS special series called Wild: A New Earth are really good. Too much good stuff to watch, so why waste time on the bad stuff?