Kingsman is not the kind of movie I would have wasted a Saturday afternoon for, if it weren’t for that picture of Colin Firth in Google. I really had no idea about the film, never a believer of watching trailers or keeping myself updated that way. (Perhaps it was a bad idea to put this in public about a feature writer, writing on films). But before giving myself a chance to back out and go sleep away my Saturday afternoon, I booked on bookmyshow and got myself a D-25 at New Theatre (that’s a seat no, yeah they do go up to 25 n all, imagine that). A little fella next to me asked me about the theatre and its show timing. And when the movie began we kept exchanging happy one-liners: “So, the Pulp Fiction guy is doing that.”
“But why is he doing that?”
Turned out he was doing that for population control after all. Twaing. Where have I heard that before? Tom Hanks’ face, the Dan Brown set up. Why, Inferno. That crazy man Zobrist something with his crazy plan. Same idea for him too, population control.
Oh but I enjoyed it, Kingsman I mean, classic action comedy. Not that I know anything about action comedies. But if this is what it is, it’s gotta be classic. The kid Eggsy – I loved him as soon as I heard the name, so PG Wodehousish that. And Colin managed to be Colin. With his big umbrella and black suit and no-smiling face. Come to think of it, there’s a bit of MIB in here too, complete with no-smiling older guy recruiting younger guy into a secret service, nicknames, fancy weapons, and even amnesia inducing gadgets. If you think of MIB sequels, older guy owes younger guy’s dad too! Matthew Vaughn is the Priyadarshan of Hollywood then?
But Colin’s nothing like Tommy Lee Jones. Well, not exactly the most cheerful guy around. Dour, a friend said he is. I suppose I fancy dour then, if they come in the shape of Colin Firth. Or maybe it had to do with Bridget’s voice (Bridget from the Diary), talking about him so and so, once upon a time.
By interval my neighbor asked my Facebook id and here we are, friends. And when the movie ended and I left D-25, it was raining outside. Who would have thought now, with all that summer and all that bloody heat, you would see rain in Trivandrum on a nearly-March evening. I grabbed all of it that came my way, but unfortunately I had brought my bike and not walked like I planned. Even so, some Saturdays just magically turn out to be diary-ish material. A movie, a day with myself, a new acquaintance, and rain.
Story of a lost journalist 