Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World may be the apotheosis of the amalgamation of video game culture, comic books, indie rock, and cinema. The question is, and I'm not sure of the answer, is this a good thing? Given the film's anemic box office on its opening weekend, it may end up being a blip on the radar, but it's not an insubstantial blip.

The line is drawn quickly, as the opening credits, set against a series of flashing bright colors, seems designed to drive the elderly out of the theater (or induce seizures in epileptics). What follows is so couched in self-conscious references (even before that, the Universal logo and theme is rendered as an old-style video game) and winking at the camera that a viewer alternates between enjoying the fun and wanting to punch those responsible. The film is ideally for the young, the kids who wear ironic t-shirts and have a shoebox full of Pokemon cards in the back of their closets. It also helps if the viewer has ADD, because this film isn't able to hold a thought for very long.

Our hero, played by Michael Cera, is a 22-year-old musician. The role is a variation on the kind that Cera specializes in, as this guy does seem to have success with the ladies (the band's drummer, the freckled and perpetually pissed-off Allison Pill, seems to hold a torch for him), but deep down this is quintessential Cera, a pigeon-chested geek with a voice like a deflating balloon. Unlike the characters in Superbad and Juno, Pilgrim is also a dick. As the film begins he is dating a high-school girl (Ellen Wong), but when he claps eyes on the rainbow-hued hair of Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead, who I've been missing since she was in the last Die Hard movie) he pursues her without breaking up with Wong.

This takes up about a half-hour, and we are introduced to lots of characters who fly by, such as Cera's gay roommate (Kieran Culkin) and sister (Anna Kendrick), plus the other members of the band and a taciturn record-store employee (Aubrey Plaza, in a variation on her character in Parks and Recreation). That is only the start, though. Once Cera and Winstead begin dating, he is challenged to a fight by one of her exes. He will have to defeat all seven of them to win her hand.

Edgar Wright directs, and if I had to choose one word to describe his style it would be busy. Busy, busy, busy, as long-forgotten comedian Billy DeWolfe used to say. There's so much on screen at any one moment that it's hard to process it all. There's the abundant use of graphics, such as to introduce the characters, or animating onomatopoeia like the old Batman show used to do (every time a phone rings, we see the words "RING" fly across the screen). The most thematic conceit is structuring the film as a video game, with Pilgrim's score and power totals appearing on screen after he defeats an ex. The games that it most reminiscent of are those that mimicked the martial arts. I never played those games, but when I used to waste time in arcades I could hear them in the background--I distinctly recall hearing the words "body blow!" over and over again.

For those who fancy video games as a kind of narrative art, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World may set you all a-tingle, and I did admire the commitment that Wright gave to the cause. But ultimately, even though I was amused throughout, the film had about as much substance as a spirited game of Pac-Man (we learn that it was originally called Puc-Man). There's just not enough meat to the story, and the business of the screen can only distract us from that so much.

But I did like a lot of it. It is frequently funny. I think my favorite sequence was when Cera battles Brandon Routh, who draws his superpowers from being a vegan, and the whole thing made be smirk mercilessly at the holier-than-thou vegans I've known in my life. A bit where the film suddenly becomes a sit-com, complete with Seinfeld theme and laugh-track, is also funny, but also seemed incredibly random.

The performances, aside from Cera's, are functionary. Culkin, emulating early Robert Downey Jr., plays up the gay-roommate stereotypes, and Winstead's main job is be as doe-eyed as possible. Jason Schwartzman shows up at the end and is properly smarmy.

I should add that the music is pretty damn good. Most of the songs are by Beck, but there's also some welcome oldies by Frank Black and Bob Dylan. In a movie about a rock band, that's an important thing not to get wrong. I've actually added the soundtrack to my Amazon wish-list.