Source Material: Kick-Ass

The book was better. There, now I can get on with it.

Mark Millar and John Romita Jr.'s original comic series didn't pull punches with its pages of bloody over-the-top violence, yet the story itself was grounded in reality. In fact, "reality" was the whole point. What would happen if a powerless nobody decided to dress up and play superhero? Director Matthew Vaughn started out in that direction, but somehow ended up with a final product that was more of a comic book than the comic book. I understand that the two media require different storytelling techniques and that filmmakers deserve a degree of creative license in interpretation and presentation, but perhaps that license should be more "Driver's" than "Marriage". You know, one that you need to earn or, at the very least, be sober to get.

For whatever reason, Vaughn took Millar's world and populated it with declawed caricatures from movies past. Forget the central casting gangsters and look no further than the rainbow coalition street thugs. Maybe it was an homage to those 80s cheeseballs where gangs didn't have colors so much as they seemingly had quotas and "Beat It" served as the Gangland of its day. It all leads to an air of hokiness. I suppose it could be intended as an ironic juxtaposition to the gore, but I felt it just undermined it.

So if we are allowing for a margin of adaptation (and we should), it is only fair that Vaughn be judged on the changes he made, the biggest of which is his revisionist take on Big Daddy's history. The character, played by Nic Cage, is presented as a Punisher-esque avenging ex-cop who enlists his prepubescent daughter, Hit Girl, in his crusade to take down the criminal empire that took his job, his reputation, and ultimately, his wife. It's a classic genre set-up and one ripe to turn on its head as part of the original story's anti-superhero theme. Unfortunately, as he does in too many places, Vaughn opts to play it safe for the mainstream audience he was hoping for and ignored the book's game-changing revelation that Big Daddy made up his whole back story, that he's basically just a nut bored with his life. Millar has defended Vaughn's decision saying the original turn would have "messed up the structure of the movie." I'm sure he was sincere, but I read that as a back-handed compliment, that the structure of the movie messed up the story. If nothing else, it made it less interesting.

While on the subject of Hollywood edits, the movie also forces a round romance into the square narrative. Both versions introduce the character of Katie (Lyndsy Fonseca, who I'm telling you now to get on your radar) as high school dweeb Dave Lizewski, aka Kick-Ass's, crush an they both show us the relationship that blossoms between them based solely on her mistaken belief that he's gay. Where they diverge is in the aftermath of his admission of truth. In the book, Katie is rightly pissed, telling Dave off and eventually Brett Favreing him a text of her and another guy. The movie, shockingly, has her not even getting mad and immediately becoming his girlfriend and sleeping with him. On choice isn't necessarily better than the other...except when it contradicts the tone of the surrounding material. What type of movie does this want to be?

Another example of this is the casting of Christopher Mintz-Plasse as Red Mist. Sorry to say, but Plasse is and always will be McLovin. That doesn't mean he can never work again (how have they not made a Superbad sequel?), but he brings the baggage of goofiness with him that just isn't right here. not only that, but Vaughn opts out of a dramatic twist again, this one revealing Red Mist's secret identity from the jump. maybe that's the problem here. There's just not enough tension in the film and that short-coming falls squarely on the director's shoulders.

Vaughn made similarly questionable decisions in his last film, Stardust, in which he managed to neuter the magic out of Neil Gaiman's fairy tale (though he did give us Robert DeNiro as a gay sky pirate and, well, never mind). None of which would register that much if his first film, the Daniel Craig star-making Layer Cake, wasn't excellent. He's now been given the reigns of the X-Men franchise and I can't say I know how he's going to respond.

Which isn't to say Kick-Ass is bad (it is to say Stardust is). Like Vinny Guns wrote when he Playlisted the movie a bit back, I wasn't disappointed so much as hoping it would have been better. Where I do disagree with the honorable Mayor is in his love for Cage. I'm happy to see him reconnecting with his eccentric roots after a decade-long sellout bender, but eccentricity isn't always the smart bet (and, actually, usually isn't). When it works, it's very entertaining. When it doesn't, it feels like the actor is trying too hard to draw attention to himself.

If you've noticed that I haven't mentioned Aaron Johnson, who plays the title character, I'd first like to thank for reading this far and then say that I don't have much to write. He's serviceable in the lead, probably interchangeable with a number of other young actors. It's besides the point, though, because like a QB on a team with a great defense and running game, all Johnson has to do is not turn the ball over. This is Hit Girl's film, just like it was her book (she's the Ray Lewis to his Trent Dilfer). Chloe Moretz is dead-on cool as the best original character to hit pop culture in a long time. But wait: Vaughn even manages to screw this up. The first time we see her in the book is when she is impaling a drug dealer. Vaughn, though, introduces her and Big Daddy early on, sacrificing mystery for, I don't know what. Lack of mystery?

You know what, though? She still kicked ass.