Street Fighter Review

Review: Street Fighter draws on highly enthusiastic performers and an anarchic spirit, but Kitao Sakurai's adaptation of Capcom's games struggles to focus all that energy on a good story.

Street Fighter opens in theaters on October 16.

Infectious and celebratory energy flows through street fighter Kitao Sakurai at every moment... you could say psychic power. And "psychic power" is a fitting metaphysical concept to be so front and center to the film's story, because as Capcom's colorful and eccentric roster of c-fighters strut their stuff and perform their special moves in hyperkinetic fashion, the film feels increasingly out of touch with any sense of reality, not even itself. Is it really a problem when you have martial arts warriors and demons throwing fireballs, green monsters with Jason Momoa's face running around, or Eric Andre screaming at the top of his lungs through bull horns? As it turns out, yes. But, as you quickly learn while watching it, Street Fighter never lets good sense get in the way of a good time.

Street Fighter gets off to a stylish start with a superbly executed anime prologue that creates a rift between protagonists Ryu (Andrew Koji) and Ken (Noah Centineo), martial artists who became best friends while training under their master Goken (Don Lee). As Ryu fades into obscurity, Ken becomes a pop culture mainstay who can never shake the idea that his former friend was a better fighter after Ryu demonstrates the ability to harness the "power of Hado". This mystical energy from the spirit realm can only be channeled by the greatest warriors, and Sakurai and co-writer T.J. Fixman devoted too many words in their script to explain it as included in this sentence.

More important to the plot is how important this ability is to M. Beason (David Dastmalchian), the sadistic leader of the Shadalo crime organization, who is holding a tournament of the world's greatest fighters in hopes of draining enough of Hado's power (or psychic power, as it's called in Beastone's office) to unlock his own special moves. Street Fighter bets few of its audience will think twice about how well-justified its melting pot of characters, magical abilities, and cultural influences are, Sakurai seems intent on stretching the franchise as wide as possible for the sake of telling a deeper story.

The fast-and-loose nature of the adaptation's story leans heavily on the genres expected of Rio and Ken, and this effort falls disappointingly short of how good Andrew Cudgee and Noah Centineo are in their respective roles. Between the two, Ken Centineo gets more opportunity to show how his lackluster time in Rio's shadow has taken a toll on him, and Centineo's restlessness gives Ken a fun "little brother" energy that feels like it goes far beyond the character's actual writing to support his weak situation in the story. Ken's reasons for staying in the tournament are never quite clear: is he here to prove himself against Rio? To honor his master? To save himself from more appearances on MTV during spring break? To save the world? Perhaps for secondary characters, those reasons are less important. But as one of the two leads and certainly the one with more time in the spotlight, Ken could have used a lot more focus, which would have allowed his struggles late in the film to carry the emotional weight that the finale seems to make room for.

Each performer brings inherent strengths to the roles that make up a lot of ground for many of them being underwritten.

Rio's arc has the opposite problem, with a weak throughline about his struggle with a dark power lurking just beneath the surface of his peaceful demeanor. As a result, he's reluctant to get involved in these matches, with that fight embodied by the evil Akuma Roman Reigns, the character that Street Fighter goes out of its way to justify bringing in here. As great as Ryu/Ken's anime scenes look, Sakura keeps coming back to them more and more, becoming a distracting crutch the film uses to double down on itself and explain Akuma's importance to Ryu and Ken's early days.

It's a shame, because Andrew Koji is completely convincing as Ryu and does a fantastic job of keeping the character's stoicism from turning wooden-feeling, as is often the case with action leads. Considering how cartoonish the other characters are, Ryu's calmness contrasts with whatever weirdness he's paired with in any given scene. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Ryu's intense focus is best contrasted against Ken's manic enthusiasm, and Kouji and Centineo are each at their best when arguing with each other. The initial fight between the two in a hotel room perfectly encapsulates this dynamic in both performance and action, as Ryu's one-upmanship in the duel drives Ken increasingly up the wall. This relatively simple fight and the meticulous nature of how the camera chases the dance to highlight the comedic beats feels a little out of place for Street Fighter as the rest of the fights are textbook examples of unchecked maximalism.

Street Fighter never allows too much time to go by without a fight. Whether those fights have a good reason to happen or not, the movie certainly picks up speed when the fists are flying, even if the matches that serve as the backbone of the film's second half are almost an afterthought. It mixes Hong Kong action, anime, and 80s/90s film influences that alternate between intense fight choreography and epic hero moments. In this way, ironically, Scott Pilgrim's video game-inspired action against the world becomes the closest cinematic relation to Street Fighter, a similarity that also lends itself to how the film's comedic bent should serve as an engine for adrenaline and laughs. Sakurai takes a sparse approach here, tending to pack action scenes so full of individual gags that there's often not enough time to complete them. Appreciate them before moving on to the next one. The action is well executed by the stunt team and actors like Andrew Koji who can handle the more complex sequences themselves, but the story makes Street Fighter rely more on the VFX embellishments in that action, which adds a lot to the visuals.

The film's vast scope leads to a very strong showing of the game's bench warriors, and the flavor each of their characters brings to this fractured stew is an undeniable highlight of the film. In its first half, Street Fighter bends over backwards to introduce characters like Chun-Li (Kalina Liang), Guile (Cody Rhodes), Vega (Orville Peck), Dahlsim (Vivid Jamwal) and Kami (Mel Jarnson) and keep them in the mix as the tournament kicks off in Metro Lao City. These characters' personal reasons for accepting their invitations become completely irrelevant once they walk in the door, but Street Fighter is no weaker for it. With no responsibility to the story, these fighters are given license to be as wacky and funny as their performers can be, and the characters that make a mark really make a mark.

Andrew Schulz's Dan Hibiki, Ken's replacement best friend after Ryu's disappearance, is the big surprise in this regard. As Agent Ken, Dan begins the story like a money-hungry leech, but his genuine care for his friend actually turns into one of the few emotional hooks the film gets at the end, and Schulz plays the out-of-mind guy who surrounds himself with people who can shake up his actions to often hilarious effect. Another comedian who sees great success throughout Street Fighter is Eric Andre, whose main character Don Savage is basically just a thin spin on his own chaotic energy.

From the moment Cody Rhodes Goyle walks in (first hair, of course) to his absolutely rocking theme song, the power of his all-American charisma and consistent ability to deliver nail-biting lines is only let down by his relatively short screen time. Others—like the Balrog or Zangif—are glorified cameos, each at least adding a unique energy to their scenes. Jason Momoa's Blanka certainly falls into this camp: he's barely engaging, but he's remiss if the weird CGI and "Hulked on Phonics" speech pattern that defines him doesn't leave you in an amused daze by the time he exits the film. David Dastamalchian's M. Bison is another reliable source of amusing confusion that Street Fighter uses: Bison's relationship with power and how happy he gets as he gets closer and closer to attaining it is a wonderfully unflinching approach to the imposing dictator, and never from the handkerchiefs in the face of the handkerchiefs.

These characters really show the importance of good casting, as each performer brings inherent strengths to the roles that provide a lot of context for different roles. This lack of definition backfires for the most prominent female characters: Callina Liang's Chun-Li and Mel Jarnson's Cammy are certainly on the list of historically oversexualized video game characters, a fact that Street Fighter isn't smart enough to mock without further ado. But whether it's a character rooted in strong cinematic archetypes like Guile or a hapless character like Chun-Li, all the actors embrace the film's ridiculous tone wholeheartedly and sustain it when the writing lets them down. The 1990s Street Fighter setting is supposed to be another source of campy energy for the film, but Sakurai never quite figures out how to channel that nostalgia effectively – little of the production design is indicative of the period, making for too-frequent needles (including one that would be released in all of the movie's decade-heavy episodes).

Which Street Fighter character are you most looking forward to seeing in the new movie?

Street Fighter is dumber than a box of rocks, but have you ever thrown rocks at things? With the right mix of enthusiastic friends and an anarchic spirit, it can be a lot of fun. Kitao Sakurai doesn't always manage to combine his eager cast and anarchic approach to the film's blend of action and comedy, with too many characters to deliver a thin story, but Street Fighter does its best to pack as many punches as it can before the timer hits zero. Even with the large number of losses, those who manage to land are hit hard.