If there’s one curse that’s hard to break, it’s the one surrounding films based on video games. And yet, occasionally the stars align. The new live-action Street Fighter has arrived in theaters carrying a heavy load of expectations and—all things considered—it has managed to surpass nearly all of them.
Forget the glossy, over-the-top trashiness of the 1994 film starring Jean-Claude Van Damme; this is a completely different approach. The first major victory for this movie lies in its staging of the combat. The choreography is simply stunning: the fighters move, strike, and—crucially—feel exactly the way decades of arcade gaming have conditioned us to expect when we have the controls in our hands. Much of the credit goes to a spot-on cast. Each character looks like a carbon copy of their digital counterpart—in both appearance and fighting style—and the iconic special moves are executed with a surgical precision that will make any nostalgic fan’s heart race. Special mention also goes to the cinematography, which avoids being a generic, perfunctory effort, opting instead for a distinct and consistent visual identity.
Ryu, Ken, Chun-Li, Guile, Dhalsim, and Akuma are all portrayed by exceptional actors, but it is Jason Momoa—as Blanka (Jimmy)—who steals the show every time he appears on screen. It’s clear he’s having a blast in the role. David Dastmalchian also brings his own take to the character of Bison; his performance never veers into the over-the-top, though in his attempt to distance himself from Raúl Juliá’s legendary portrayal, he occasionally comes across as a bit too rigid.
The entire production consistently feels like a “second installment”. Strategically set in 1993—the golden year of the iconic second entry in the video game series—the film presents a world in full swing, where the narrative has a solid “before” and “after”. We, the audience, are simply looking through a wide-open window into this bustling universe.
One of the screenplay’s boldest (and most successful) choices is shifting the narrative focus to Ken rather than Ryu. Ryu is a pillar and an untouchable icon, yet he always risked sliding into the tired, overused cliché of the tormented student seeking to avenge his master. Not that this aspect of his character is absent—on the contrary, that is exactly who Ryu is—but by giving space to Ken, placing him at the center, and granting him a deep, multi-layered evolution, the film intelligently breaks the genre’s conventional mold.
While the 1994 film thrived on surreal excess, this installment strikes a much more balanced tone. It isn’t afraid to be “playful”, incorporating humor, quips, and deconstructions of the clichés typical of fighting games. Granted, not every comedic beat lands with equal effectiveness, but the overall atmosphere never suffers for it. And what about long-time fans? While one might miss a direct nod to the legendary “Of course!” shouted by Raul Julia in 1994, the film compensates with a delightful “For me? It was Tuesday”—a line sure to bring a smile to the faces of those in the theater.
Another winning touch is the use of 2D animation for the flashbacks—a spot-on stylistic choice that nods to the characters’ two-dimensional origins. Watching these sequences, one almost wishes for an entire animated prequel film, perhaps interspersed with the occasional live-action segment. While CGI is certainly present, it never feels excessive or artificial—or, at the very least, whatever artificiality does come across fits perfectly within the film’s established tone.
If there is one sour note, it has to be the ending… or rather, the endings. In the final minutes, there is a clear sense of a creative block; the writers seemed unable to settle on a definitive direction, ultimately piling multiple ideas and conclusions on top of one another. Nevertheless, the film leaves the door wide open for a sequel, and given the evident care with which this narrative universe is handled, one can only hope it arrives soon.
