The
big screen adaptation of the cult-y Bryan Lee O'Malley comic book is,
like its print counterpart, a mash-up of teen pop culture obsessions
infused into a young romance storyline. Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World
works primarily due to its kinetic visual style and unique cross-hobby
genre blending that is bound to be seen as an instant cult classic among
the hipster comic/video game/punk rock/anime audience it aims squarely
at. Perhaps it won't crossover outside of the geek-o-sphere to
appeal to those who didn't grow up playing fighter games and listening
to garage punk, but if you did, it is very subculture literate in its
presentation in a way most major movie releases just aren't.
Set in Toronto, Michael Cera (Year One,
Juno) plays the Scott Pilgrim of the title,
a 22-year-old slacker by description who spends a good deal of his free
time as a guitarist for his underground rock band, Sex Bob-omb, while
also bragging to his band mates about the obsessive Chinese high school
teenage girl he's been dating, rather chastely, named Knives Chau
(Wong).
However, Scott can't settle in long after viewing the baggage-laden but
more hip and mature American, Ramona Flowers (Winstead,
Live Free or Die Hard), who, unlike the
adulatory Knives, initially barely gives Scott the time of day.
Ramona soon warms up to Scott, but winning her interest wasn't even half
the battle, as he finds that, to date her, he's going to have to defeat
the seven evil exes (Ramona's former significant others) in head-to-head
combat. And, of course, there's the problem with Knives, to whom
he can't seem to find the will to let her down with a break-up speech.
Not even mentioned is the fact that, in the odd little universe that
Scott Pilgrim takes place in, every character can conjure up
amazing superpowers and ultra-badass fighting skills whenever needed.
When Scott fights an ex, the visual tone shifts from typical romantic
comedy to a video game fight game akin to Street Fighter, Tekken, Dead
or Alive, and the rest of the martial arts fighter genre of arcade and
console games. This hyperactive style also allows for some very
appealing over-the-top comic turns by such actors as Chris Evans (Push),
Brandon Routh (Zack and Miri), and
Jason Schwartzman (Marie Antoinette),
all of whom, in their short screen time, steal their scenes with visual
hyperbole combined with memorably funny dialogue. Kieran Culkin (Igby
Goes Down) also should get some kudos as a funny, promiscuous
gay roomie. And Michael Cera, while not exactly doing a 180 in
on-screen personality, does manage to give his character a different
spin off of his typecast nebbishly-sweet geek role by playing,
alternately, a slacker, a lover, a loser, and a kick-ass action hero.
Like many recent films based on well-known cult comics, director and
co-writer Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead,
Hot Fuzz) attempts to translate, quite
literally, the images from the comics to the screen, with phonetic
musical demonstrations (songs written by alt-rock fave, Beck), visual
name tags for character introductions, and bleeped (visually) foul
language. This isn't a satisfying satire meant for all audiences,
and probably will completely miss the target with those who didn't grow
up consuming the entertainment fodder that drove the 1990s (if you have
no idea why a vanquished foe would suddenly explode into a bouncing
collection of coins, perhaps you're not prepared to ride this train).
It also seems to run on a little long for the material, burdened by the
story's commitment to seeing Scott battle seven evil exes, a couple more
than once.
But why resist a recommendation for excess when that is so clearly one
of the film's biggest appeals? It's a movie driven mostly by
bloated, unabashed homage, and on that level, it's a breathlessly adept
work that, while lacking in emotional content, remains a stylish,
conceptual delight.
