Us vs. the World: Why You Should See Scott Pilgrim
It's been four days since I watched Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and even though it was far from the best film I've seen, it struck a chord that makes me want to recommend it to a wide swath of the country, whether they're male or female, so long as they have two things: A.) An understanding of computerized adventure and B.) A love life that has involved one to twenty people (maybe a bit more).
And this involves more people than you might think at first glance.
Scott Pilgrim was written by a member of the Nintendo Generation, and it shows from the very first frame. The film echoes with video and audio clues that will make you reminiscent for the days you spent with Mario and Zelda and Chrono Trigger (oh my!). They're not just occasional blips and beeps, but folded into the story and characters; they help to explain how the world is working in a language that many of us will understand because we've grown up with gaming concepts. Even if you weren't neck-deep in pixels as a child, you probably saw enough of them to know what a power-up is, or why you get points (and coins, dammit!) when you defeat enemies.
And while some people will roll their eyes and find it juvenile, it's not much of a leap to apply game mechanics to real life. It's already been done in games like The Sims, because who hasn't felt like they have social penalties on a date, or natural bonuses to interactions with certain people? (I often get a +2 when I first meet tabletop roleplaying geeks, and sometimes a +3 if they've played the same games. Hey, every point counts, right?)
But buried in the fun and flash of the visual medium is a story that reaches out to many segments of the population. Maybe you're just starting out in love, and you're crushing on someone hard. There's someone in the movie who represents you, and she's a killer Asian chick named Knives. Perhaps you've been around the block a little bit and messed around with just enough of your friends and acquaintances to make things awkward. Your avatar will be Scott, who also stands in for folks who duck out of confrontations and would rather say nothing than make someone upset. If you've been involved with people and later wondered why, or if you've been the dumper far more than the dumpee, or if you're on the run from the shadows that came before, you've got the lovely Ramona to keep an eye on.
Yes, the title character is a guy, but there's plenty of stuff in this film for chicks. And sure, the Evil Exes are all tied to one girl's past, but most of us can find exes in our histories to match their basic concepts. Especially (and please forgive me for the spoiler) the 7th Evil Ex.
You know the one I'm talking about. The person who seemed to hold the reigns of your fancy from the moment you met, even if they came from a different place or a whole other league. The one who had power over you that they didn't have to earn - or honor, or return - so they didn't. The guy or girl who seemed born with their fingers under your skin, with their hands on your buttons, playing with you enough to get you revved but not enough to get to the next level. Everything they did was fascinating. Everything they were seemed to glimmer, even when they were cruel or simply neglectful of your feelings. You couldn't get them out of your head without ripping out the wires between you - and even when you tried, you weren't sure if you'd done it right.
Any chance meeting, and the game might be on again. The game of you. A role you dread to step into, but might not be able to resist. The same biology that you tell yourself doesn't matter gives the bastard (or bitch) cheat codes to your heart, and how do you counter that? If love is a battlefield, as Pat Benetar insisted with shoulder-shaking fury during the 1980s, then the 7th Evil Ex truly is a main boss - and probably a recurring one, with different tactics at new stages.
So how do you fight the 7th Evil Ex? Sometimes you don't. Other times, it doesn't go so well.
When I first saw how Andariel dwarfed my barbarian in Diablo II, I ran from her poisonous ass like a little bitch, all the while piping, "Oh my God, what the hell is that?!" (Okay, so I can be a little dramatic. Yes, I'm told it was purely hilarious to watch.) Running away from the 7th Evil Ex can be a temporary option, but they have a nasty way of following you into later chapters, when you're not expecting them and your resistance spells have worn off.
Or, you might try a direct confrontation to end the tale. Maybe you forgo the yelling so you can deliver a firm cut scene that wraps things up and doesn't give them any options to respond, like the end of Planescape: Torment. It doesn't matter how the game was played up until that point, or how many times you click the mouse, trying to interject - the video says "Game Over."
But is that always the end of it? No. Even smart, witty, pretty people can get caught up in the webs of their own making, disappointing new and old lovers alike. The good news, as I see it, is that most of us make these webs and encounter the webs of others; it's something we share, though we may not know it. The sexes can blame each other for how the rules are broken, but as we move through life we leave a trail of old connections behind us. Some of those relationships were small and brief, leaving little influence. Others were powerful, thrashing everything nearby into shreds that have to be gathered up and woven again, somehow.
Friends and lovers, both new and old, can help us repair our rifts - can help us pull out the cartridge, blow in it, and try again. They can take us to whole new levels of experience and make the game of life worth playing. And we might all be more understanding of each other if we could see how we fight to be together, and battle the same kinds of shadows, and sometimes fail to complete important quests. We all play with a half-translated manual, piecing together strategies that usually work, rewriting our approach when they don't - making our way toward multiplayer areas.
The moral of the story? Give folks a few chances to conquer the world with you before kicking them out of your adventuring party.
And this involves more people than you might think at first glance.
Scott Pilgrim was written by a member of the Nintendo Generation, and it shows from the very first frame. The film echoes with video and audio clues that will make you reminiscent for the days you spent with Mario and Zelda and Chrono Trigger (oh my!). They're not just occasional blips and beeps, but folded into the story and characters; they help to explain how the world is working in a language that many of us will understand because we've grown up with gaming concepts. Even if you weren't neck-deep in pixels as a child, you probably saw enough of them to know what a power-up is, or why you get points (and coins, dammit!) when you defeat enemies.
And while some people will roll their eyes and find it juvenile, it's not much of a leap to apply game mechanics to real life. It's already been done in games like The Sims, because who hasn't felt like they have social penalties on a date, or natural bonuses to interactions with certain people? (I often get a +2 when I first meet tabletop roleplaying geeks, and sometimes a +3 if they've played the same games. Hey, every point counts, right?)
But buried in the fun and flash of the visual medium is a story that reaches out to many segments of the population. Maybe you're just starting out in love, and you're crushing on someone hard. There's someone in the movie who represents you, and she's a killer Asian chick named Knives. Perhaps you've been around the block a little bit and messed around with just enough of your friends and acquaintances to make things awkward. Your avatar will be Scott, who also stands in for folks who duck out of confrontations and would rather say nothing than make someone upset. If you've been involved with people and later wondered why, or if you've been the dumper far more than the dumpee, or if you're on the run from the shadows that came before, you've got the lovely Ramona to keep an eye on.
Yes, the title character is a guy, but there's plenty of stuff in this film for chicks. And sure, the Evil Exes are all tied to one girl's past, but most of us can find exes in our histories to match their basic concepts. Especially (and please forgive me for the spoiler) the 7th Evil Ex.
You know the one I'm talking about. The person who seemed to hold the reigns of your fancy from the moment you met, even if they came from a different place or a whole other league. The one who had power over you that they didn't have to earn - or honor, or return - so they didn't. The guy or girl who seemed born with their fingers under your skin, with their hands on your buttons, playing with you enough to get you revved but not enough to get to the next level. Everything they did was fascinating. Everything they were seemed to glimmer, even when they were cruel or simply neglectful of your feelings. You couldn't get them out of your head without ripping out the wires between you - and even when you tried, you weren't sure if you'd done it right.
Any chance meeting, and the game might be on again. The game of you. A role you dread to step into, but might not be able to resist. The same biology that you tell yourself doesn't matter gives the bastard (or bitch) cheat codes to your heart, and how do you counter that? If love is a battlefield, as Pat Benetar insisted with shoulder-shaking fury during the 1980s, then the 7th Evil Ex truly is a main boss - and probably a recurring one, with different tactics at new stages.
So how do you fight the 7th Evil Ex? Sometimes you don't. Other times, it doesn't go so well.
When I first saw how Andariel dwarfed my barbarian in Diablo II, I ran from her poisonous ass like a little bitch, all the while piping, "Oh my God, what the hell is that?!" (Okay, so I can be a little dramatic. Yes, I'm told it was purely hilarious to watch.) Running away from the 7th Evil Ex can be a temporary option, but they have a nasty way of following you into later chapters, when you're not expecting them and your resistance spells have worn off.
Or, you might try a direct confrontation to end the tale. Maybe you forgo the yelling so you can deliver a firm cut scene that wraps things up and doesn't give them any options to respond, like the end of Planescape: Torment. It doesn't matter how the game was played up until that point, or how many times you click the mouse, trying to interject - the video says "Game Over."
But is that always the end of it? No. Even smart, witty, pretty people can get caught up in the webs of their own making, disappointing new and old lovers alike. The good news, as I see it, is that most of us make these webs and encounter the webs of others; it's something we share, though we may not know it. The sexes can blame each other for how the rules are broken, but as we move through life we leave a trail of old connections behind us. Some of those relationships were small and brief, leaving little influence. Others were powerful, thrashing everything nearby into shreds that have to be gathered up and woven again, somehow.
Friends and lovers, both new and old, can help us repair our rifts - can help us pull out the cartridge, blow in it, and try again. They can take us to whole new levels of experience and make the game of life worth playing. And we might all be more understanding of each other if we could see how we fight to be together, and battle the same kinds of shadows, and sometimes fail to complete important quests. We all play with a half-translated manual, piecing together strategies that usually work, rewriting our approach when they don't - making our way toward multiplayer areas.
The moral of the story? Give folks a few chances to conquer the world with you before kicking them out of your adventuring party.