Comic book pastiche throws the punches in “Kick-Ass”

A lot of the buzz surrounding “Kick-Ass” wasn’t from the fanboys. They’re often a quiet group, and with daytime to early-evening showings, even the diehards didn’t see much reason to camp out for the first screening. The buzz mostly came from critics who either green-lighted the first decent comic book flick of the summer (April counts) or panned it because of the extra-strength violence mostly involving an 11-year-old girl.

“Kick-Ass” follows several superheroes without superpowers as they try to rid a beloved city of crime – or at least that’s the boilerplate explanation. In reality, “Kick-Ass” builds a plotline around the gratuitous violence perpetrated against bad people by marginally better people with less-than-noble reasons for getting their hands dirty.

Matthew Vaughn writes and directs the story of nobody teenager Dave Lizewski (Aaron Johnson) who decides he’s tired of getting the sand kicked in his face and wants to do some of the kicking. Blessed with a credit card and apparently very little homework, Lizewski purchases a goofy green and gold diving suit, takes some work boots and a couple of batons, and goes out on the street looking for trouble.

He finds it, and after a failed attempt at righting some low-profile wrongs, gets a break with a “W” on his second fight and a YouTube posting that draws millions of hits. But the harder he tries, the further over his head he becomes. Enter Hit-Girl Mindy (Chloë Grace Moretz) and Big Daddy Damon Macready (Nicolas Cage), the daughter-father team hell-bent on killing the man responsible for the death of their mother/wife.

They bail Kick-Ass out, but despite his efforts to give up the crime fighting, his reputation is already set. The mob boss whom Hit-Girl and Big Daddy want dead goes after Kick-Ass to set an example, and his fatherly love-seeking son (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) steps up to the plate to bait out Kick-Ass with the false alter ego Red Mist.

If a few of these things sound familiar, it’s because most of the plot twists and character types are cherry-picked from the best and best-loved comic personalities (and a few sci-fi favorites).

But the costumes and characters aren’t the only things derivative about this ensemble action-comedy. The soundtrack – a mix of score and songs – plays all the well-known themes from the “Superman” and “Batman” films. I should clarify that I don’t mean the most recent “Batman” films. Think energetic, determined if haunting Tim Burton-in-the-Eighties campy themes. Vaughn’s choice to tip the hat a little further toward parody unbalances the film at moments when the characters aren’t supposed to be laughable. It’s something akin to superimposing the final chase in “Friday the 13th” with the “Benny Hill” theme. As comedic as the choices are, they often mask the step-over dark humor of violence that should be well more offensive.

Other critics have been quick to attribute the best performance to young Moretz, and she steals the show with an over-the-top performance as the hard-beyond-her-years young daughter of a vengeful ex-cop.  She’s the energetic and overconfident dark comedy version of Dick Grayson/Robin in the Batman canon.

But Big Daddy isn’t Batman. Bruce Wayne was orphaned at a young age and vowed to rid the city of the evil that took his family life from him. Damon Macready actually follows a similar path to actor Nicolas Cage’s character in the 1997 action film “Con Air.” He plays a disgraced soldier (in “Kick-Ass” a police officer) unfairly jailed while his daughter grows up never knowing him. But while the “Con Air” dad gets in the fight to make sure he gets to go home to his daughter, Damon enlists his offspring as the warrior protégée needed for his vengeance plot.

It’s a little different than Batman and Robin: Robin comes to Batman seeking help, not the other way around. Big Daddy trains his sidekick in a way that blurs the line between coach and father – as if his fatherly love is skewed by performance, not compassion. When Damon asks Mindy what she’d like for her birthday, he is at first horrified when, dismissing utility belt upgrades, she asks for a cuddly, fluffy puppy. But not to worry! Seconds later, the joke having worked its magic, Mindy laughs, assuring him with, “I’m just fuckin’ with you, Daddy.”

The real gold standard belongs to Aaron Johnson. When he dons the green and yellow suit, he feels invincible, and the first time a street thug lands a punch, his confidence cracks louder than his jaw. But when Kick-Ass is in a fight – no matter how amusingly he’s getting the crap beaten out of him – you’re on his side.  He’s a loveable underdog, and every time he’s repulsed by compassionless violence he becomes a little more human and a little more loveable. Kick-Ass spends most of the movie alternating between two extremes: debilitating fear and euphoric confidence.

Maybe Lizewski just wants the girls and a sense of pride. It’s not really fair to judge the derivative characters of a satire with a strong hand. But whether or not he’s a superhero or the others are human, they still beat the crap out of the people who do bad things, and at the risk of their own deaths. And that’s where the real enjoyment comes in. Campy lines and goofy suits don’t matter if justice is being served. Real life doesn’t have a place for superheroes, but I wouldn’t mind having a handful of people around with this kind of dedication – the kind that makes them go out every day and kick ass.

~ Clay Whittaker