Matthew Vaughn has never played by the rules. Whether it’s his penchant for independence, eschewing the traditional studio system, or his gleeful genre subversions (superhero tales in Kick-Ass, fantasy adventures in Stardust, spy movies in Kingsman), he prefers doing things his own way. With Argylle, he basically subverts himself — it might be another film in the espionage arena, but here he tempers his tendency for ultra-violence and gross-out gags for a rug-pull-heavy romp boasting surprising sweetness; a Vaughn movie without the bits that make your mum wince.
While the director’s signature excesses are out, his playfulness remains. As telegraphed by Argylle’s unnecessarily convoluted origins (the film is seemingly based on a real novel by author ‘Elly Conway’, who is actually the film’s lead character, played by Bryce Dallas Howard), this is a film that wilfully freefalls down its own narrative rabbit hole, unspooling an array of twists across its runtime while paying homage to the fun, frivolity and fashion of ’60s spy flicks. That’s the general milieu of Conway’s (Howard) acclaimed Argylle novel series, here visualised with Henry Cavill as the smooth-talking (and smooth-haired) Agent Argylle, uncovering a global conspiracy via classy cocktails and femme fatales and chaotic car chases.
Howard and Rockwell are dynamite together, both given oodles to do.
But Elly’s conception of spies rubs up against the reality when she crosses paths with Sam Rockwell’s Aidan — a distinctly un-Argylle-esque agent who swoops in when the author finds herself under fire, her espionage plots unwittingly holding real-world truths. It’s here that Argylle’s true magic unfolds — Howard and Rockwell make a wonderful pair with genuine chemistry and great comic timing; the changing nature of their relationship as the plot careens through multiple meta layers becomes truly touching.
It’s that emotional throughline — and the giddiness of its ongoing reveals — that carry Argylle’s weaker moments. It moves so swiftly through its revelations that you barely have time to consider if it actually all adds up, while Vaughn’s ever-stylish filmmaking does sometimes give way to slightly airless CG compositions. When the film is intent on exploring a reality beyond spy fiction, you want that reality to feel more… well, real. One last mid-credits twist is a brain-breaker too far, while the overstuffed cast leaves legends like Samuel L. Jackson and Bryan Cranston mostly yelling in empty rooms.
But where it counts, Argylle has the goods. The action — the final work from the late, great fight co-ordinator Brad Allan — is inventive, boasting the sweetest shootout ever; Howard and Rockwell are dynamite together, both given oodles to do; Claudia Schiffer’s cat Chip hits his every mark. And no iffy gags to boot. Enough, then, to have you awaiting Conway’s next chapter.
