Here's a fun fact: Nicolas Cage has, for considerable time, trained in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu under Royce Gracie of the early-UFC fame. With this in mind, I find it interesting that the majority (or all) of Cage's action movies can be typified with what is best described as decidedly “Hollywood” fight choreography. One of the first things people learn while pursuing the “gentle art” is that the majority of what passes for fighting on the silver screen will get you laid very quickly when reality is factored back in. I suppose that the delicate intricacies of applying a rear naked choke is lost on the general public, but I'm somewhat surprised that Cage, riding in on the initial wave of BJJ's mainstream popularity, wouldn't have pushed for a bit more realism in his films.
Luckily, Kick-Ass opts for a more shoot-people-in-the-face-route. When I first saw the movie I walked in a bit late, and the first image I was treated to was Cage shooting his pre-teen daughter in the chest as an education in ballistic stopping power.
Unapologetic violence is the backbone of Kick-Ass, and I would argue that this is a good thing. One of the burning disappointments of growing up is learning about the fallacy of movie-fu. People don't just stand around with their hands down while you think of something witty to say.
My enjoyment of on-screen violence, therefore, is reserved for the over-the-top (think Rikih-Oh) or the impressively dangerous (think Ong-Bak). Kick-Ass definitely falls in with the former. There's something about an under-aged girl gleefully disemboweling a room full of gangbangers that's simultaneously unwholesome and hypnotic.
My hands-down favourite scene, however, is an extended shot of Cage in full superhero mode clearing out a warehouse brimming with mob henchmen. They're obviously evoking Batman—Cage's costume and Adam West cadence leave no doubt—but there's a level of violence here that would make Watchmen's Rorschach blush.
You may have noticed that I've gotten to this point without really discussing the film's titular character. While I could cite the fact that this is a Nic Cage-centric review as an excuse, the truth is that this movie has some glaring problems.
If there's one obvious lesson to be learned from Hollywood box office history, it's that, when it comes to leading roles, casting matters. Kick-Ass spits in the face of this cardinal rule with the inclusion of Aaron Johnson, who plays the ordinary-teenager-turned-superhero, Kick-Ass. He's awful. If everything in the world exists as a set of binaries, Johnson sits diametrically opposed to charisma. Put simply: he has none. I would say he's probably a nice guy in real life, but that's the kind of thing you say about a girl that you wouldn't sleep with even if you had to repopulate the planet.
A good choice would have been Jesse Eisenberg (Adventureland, Zombieland), whose likeable awkwardness seems like a perfect fit for this character. If this is obvious to me despite my crippling idiocy, I don't know how this movie got the green light with Johnson attached as the lead.
Cage-bias aside, Kick-Ass just isn't as interesting a character as Cage's unhinged vigilante. There's a deeper back story there and a real sadness to the distorted worldview "Big Daddy" has imposed on his daughter. In one scene Cage gives her a butterfly knife as a gift. It's certainly funny, but watching her joyously play around with this weapon is oddly heartbreaking. I would have preferred a movie that solely focused on these two characters, but I digress.
The fall is inevitably harder when you have high expectations. I was really excited for Kick-Ass and I genuinely wanted to like it. While the movie is certainly watchable, it ends up feeling like a missed opportunity. My misgivings towards Kick-Ass is similar to how I feel about pre or post-David Ruffin Temptations' songs. Sure the songs are still kind of catchy, but there's a certain magic missing. Everyone knows what's wrong and everyone knows how to fix it, but it is what it is, and that's pretty damn frustrating.
