The ‘Kingsman’ Free Bird Scene
The reason this scene lingers isn’t the incredible effects or editing. It’s the terror.
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There are movies you watch because of their overall quality, there are movies your watch in spite of their overall quality, and then there are the movies you watch once and spend the rest of your life watching one scene over and over again1. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Kingsman, a weirdly terrible movie that contains a single scene I watch regularly due to its inherent amazingness.
If you’ve seen the movie, you know the scene I’m talking about. It’s the Free Bird scene, when the film’s villain Valentine (Samuel L. Jackson) tests his mind-control technology in a packed church where Kingsman Galahad (Colin Firth) is also present2. Putting everyone in the church on a setting one might reasonably call ultraviolence, the crowd begins murdering each other with enthusiasm while Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird plays3.
In the midst of a film that made me question many of my life choices4, this scene is an exhilarating rush. It’s edited so well, and it really captures a sense of chaos that is as impressive as it is disturbing. But there’s a dark undercurrent that really makes this scene memorable and special, because it’s kind of an exploration of what might happen if we actually had super-powered or super-trained people in this world. What would life be like if James Bond, Superman, or John Wick actually existed5? This scene is a hint.
And All of the Bastards, the World Despises
In isolation, the scene is viscerally effective—horrifying, hilarious, and well-staged. We’ve seen how deadly and effective Galahad is earlier in the story—we know he’s dangerous. In fact, earlier scenes demonstrating his prowess in beating the tar out of people made us cheer for him, which adds an element of discomfort when watching this scene6. When Valentine turns on his mind control and dials up the violence, there’s a moment of doubt as Colin Firth’s expression remains unreadable. It’s equally possible, in this moment, that he resists the mind control and spends the next four minutes trying to save lives—which is what we’d expect him to do, since he’s one of the good guys in the story.
Instead, he turns, pulls his gun, and shoots a mean lady in the face, and we’re off to the races. To say this is one of the most deliriously violent scenes ever put on screen is an understatement—a crowd of people just flat out go for it, murdering each other with what scientists might classify as enthusiasm7. But the star of the show is Galahad, who moves sinuously through the space, avoiding attacks and killing more people than anyone else. It’s mesmerizing. Galahad is so damn good at killing people, and the choreography is pretty stellar8.
Of course, we shouldn’t be surprised: Galahad is a killer. In the context of the story he’s one of the most dangerous people in the world, so his ability to murder a few dozen regular people with ease isn’t surprising. But it is disturbing, because it really underscores the fact that this dude has just been walking around, capable of mass murder at any moment. Watching Galahad absolutely dismantle a crowd of people is sobering, really, because if people like that actually existed we’d all be so screwed.
Mask Off
This idea has been explored, of course. The Boys is pretty much all about the terrible world we’d live in if people with superpowers actually existed, and Zach Snyder’s Batman V. Superman was predicated on the haunting terror of a Superman breaking bad. But for the most part our fictions assure us that our super-powered people are either 100% guardrailed by morality and ethics9 or, if they do break bad, they are opposed and subdued within an hour or two by the real heroes. That reassurance is part of the comfort we experience consuming these entertainments: Sure, a Red Skull or a Thanos might use their power to kill a lot of people, but eventually the good guys use their incredible, terrifying powers to defend us10.
That’s why the Kingsman scene stays with me. It’s a mask-off moment when Galahad demonstrates that if he ever has a truly bad day and decides that murdering fifty or sixty people would make him feel better, there’s almost no force that could stop him. The guy we’ve been rooting for the entire film, the guy who’s skill in humiliating assholes and dispatching bad guys has thrilled us for the better part of an hour is suddenly the most dangerous person we know, and that sense of being unsafe kind of reaches through the screen and throttles you.
Most stories do a lot of work to assuage this primal terror we experience when faced with dangerous people like this. Think of all the work that goes into reassuring us that Superman would never dream of seizing power and bullying entire populations into submission, or that James Bond only sneaks into homes to slice throats when he absolutely has to11. We want some of our heroes to be super-powered, because we enjoy the release of watching villains beat to a pulp, but we also want to know that the person doing the beating has a leash.
The “Free Bird” scene in The Kingsman is a superpowered being without the leash, and it’s kind of terrifying if you allow yourself to think about it for a few minutes12. If a guy like Galahad sat down next to you on the subway tomorrow and started murdering everyone, you would be utterly powerless to stop him, after all13. But that’s also why the scene is so thrilling—no one wants to be the sausage, but we all thrill to see the sausage being made14.
If I was a superpowered being my power would probably be alcohol-based. I’d defeat supervillains by inviting them out for drinks and then drinking them into an early grave while my own liver glowed softly inside me, heating entire city blocks. And you would fear me.
NEXT WEEK: Hundreds of Beavers and What Even Is Reality, Anyway?
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And then there are movies you watch because you’re kind of drunk and the remote is just out of easy reach and you’re very, very comfortable.
As one does.
I have to say on the chart of popular songs that have had soundtracked the most murders IRL, I’d bet Free Bird is pretty high on the list. I mean, if you cue it up just as you arrive at your victim’s location, you’re pretty much done murdering them by the time the solo hits. And then you dance!
Including just about every grooming choice I’ve ever made, a series of poor decisions that have snowballed into my current look, best described as “Slovenly Hangover Chic.”
Now imagine going to high school with one of them. A kid with super powers would be the end of all us nerds.
Another element of discomfort: Realizing you’re doing enthusiastic air guitar while people are flat-out being murdered on screen.
I would also have accepted “gusto.”
I know I would not be very good at killing people. First of all, I haven’t done cardio in decades, so I’d get pretty winded just lifting a gun.
Also, as the last decade has shown us, our politicians.
My only superpower is withering sarcasm, but it only works when mumbled to myself with zero chance of being overheard.
This idea that only the players in the game are in real trouble is fundamental to a lot of our stories despite being 100% absolutely not the way things actually work.
I mean, you would never expect someone who looks like Colin Firth to murder you. Seduce you? Amuse you with bon mots? Certainly. But murder? Never in life.
Although as the many muggings I’ve experienced in my life have proved, I’m very good at begging for my life.
Could “No One Wants to Be The Sausage, but We All Thrill to See the Sausage Being Made” the title of my memoir? No, it’s a terrible title, what are you thinking? Get your head back in the game.
As I recall, this scene took place in Kentucky. So of course someone brought a hand grenade to church.
I am so freaking tired of Samuel L. Jackson. However, if the church scene is as wicked as you say, why not take a gander?