Street Fighter: A Nostalgic Throwdown That Can’t Quite Land Its Combos
The endless churn of Hollywood’s nostalgia machine has once again reached into the arcade cabinets of the 1980s, dusting off one of the most iconic video game franchises in history. Street Fighter, which began its life in 1987, now arrives as the latest cinematic attempt to capture the lightning of a game that defined a generation. It follows in the wake of the 1994 film that starred Jean-Claude Van Damme, a movie that has achieved a certain cult status despite its many flaws, and the 2009 reboot Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li, which is perhaps best left unmentioned. Now, director Kitao Sakurai has taken the reins, delivering a version that is clearly intended as a love letter to the aging gamers who grew up pumping quarters into the arcade machines. But the film’s devotion to its source material is both its greatest strength and its most significant weakness, resulting in a chaotic, tonally inconsistent experience that may leave both hardcore fans and newcomers scratching their heads.
Sakurai, working from a screenplay co-written with T.J. Fixman, clearly has an affection for the franchise that borders on reverence. The enthusiasm is palpable, and it feels as though the filmmakers spent countless hours immersed in the games, absorbing every detail, every character, every special move. Yet that fervor becomes counterproductive. The film lurches wildly between deadly serious drama and self-aware parody, never quite settling on a consistent tone. Even the most distinctive stylistic choice—the use of 2D anime-style sequences for flashbacks—proves to be a double-edged sword. These animated interludes are so vibrant, so full of energy and visual flair, that they end up overshadowing the live-action footage surrounding them. It is a strange problem to have, but a problem nonetheless: the film’s most exciting moments are the ones that take it furthest away from its own reality.
For a reviewer who is not a player of the games, and for whom the earlier films are little more than a distant memory, this new Street Fighter offers only sporadic entertainment. The fight sequences, which naturally dominate the proceedings, are colorful and elaborately staged, but they feel underwhelming in an era when action franchises not based on games have raised the bar so high. The John Wick series, in particular, has redefined what audiences expect from on-screen violence, with its balletic choreography and visceral impact. Measured against that standard, the battles in Street Fighter—for all their visual spectacle—lack the same punch. They are entertaining in the moment, but they do not linger in the mind the way the best action set pieces do.
The story begins with an animated prologue set in 1987, followed by a mock tabloid television segment designed to bring viewers up to speed. The main narrative takes place six years later, when Ken Masters and Ryu, once brothers-in-arms, have fallen on hard times. Ken, played by Noah Centineo, has descended into a life of drunken aimlessness, spending his nights warbling karaoke versions of 4 Non Blondes songs. Ryu, portrayed by Andrew Koji, has become an unkempt purveyor of ramen so unappetizing that even a stray cat refuses to eat it. The two are brought back together by Chun-Li, played by Callina Liang, an underling of the villainous M. Bison, portrayed by David Dastmalchian. Chun-Li recruits them for the upcoming World Warrior tournament, but both she and her boss have ulterior motives. Bison seeks to exploit the fighters’ powers for his own nefarious purposes, while Chun-Li is secretly an Interpol agent determined to bring Bison down for the murder of her father.
That is roughly the extent of the plot, and frankly, the film does not seem particularly interested in providing much more. It is content to deliver big-screen versions of a vast array of fan-favorite characters, so many that most of them receive short shrift. Describing them all here would be pointless; fans already know who they are, and non-fans will not care. Suffice it to say that they are a very colorful bunch, played by an ensemble of varying effectiveness. The casting choices are, to put it mildly, unusual. Singer Orville Peck appears as a fighter, as does Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson. Kyle Mooney, a former Saturday Night Live performer, shows up as Chun-Li’s Interpol handler, a character with a major crush on her. Jason Momoa, who also served as a producer, appears via CGI as the green, Hulk-like Blanka. Director Sakurai’s previous credits include The Eric Andre Show and the film Bad Trip, which explains the presence of his frequent collaborator Eric André as a bellowing ring announcer.
The film is filled with vintage pop music needle drops, including Ken entering the ring to, of course, “Who Let the Dogs Out.” It lives up to its oft-repeated mantra, “To live is to fight, to fight is to live,” with an endless procession of fight scenes. One notable sequence takes place in a steam bath, featuring a barely clothed Ryu battling a corpulent opponent. It is an impressive scene, but it inevitably invites comparison to the similar fight in David Cronenberg’s Eastern Promises, which did it better. What Street Fighter lacks in originality, however, it makes up for in sheer visual excess. The design and special effects teams have worked overtime to make the actors look like their video game counterparts, with extravagantly costumed and coiffed fighters populating every frame.
Centineo proves entertainingly oafish as Ken, bringing a certain charm to the role even as his character stumbles through life. Koji, meanwhile, infuses the proceedings with some much-needed gravitas as the emotionally tortured but still kick-ass Ryu. Liang displays impressive charisma as the formidable Chun-Li, a character who deserves a better film than this one. As for Dastmalchian, inheriting the villainous role played so memorably by Raul Julia in 1994, he opts for a more creepy than campy approach. His M. Bison is a unsettling figure, distinguished primarily by his perverse olfactory pleasures, a choice that is certainly memorable even if it does not quite reach the heights of Julia’s iconic performance.
The film arrives at a curious moment for video game adaptations. The recent Masters of the Universe crashed and burned with its latest big-screen incarnation, though it found some redemption on streaming. Street Fighter, by contrast, demonstrates a certain confidence in its own potential, ending with an open conclusion that all but guarantees a sequel. Whether audiences will be eager to see that sequel remains an open question. The film tries to thread the needle between fan service and welcoming the uninitiated, and the result is that neither camp is likely to be fully satisfied. Hardcore fans may appreciate the deep cuts and the obvious love for the source material, but they may also be frustrated by the tonal inconsistency and the underuse of so many beloved characters. Newcomers, meanwhile, may find themselves lost in a sea of references and cameos, struggling to keep up with a narrative that is less a story than a series of set pieces.
In the end, Street Fighter is a film that tries to beat you into submission. It is loud, colorful, and relentlessly energetic, but it never quite coheres into a satisfying whole. It is a love letter to a franchise, but love letters are often more meaningful to the writer than to the recipient. For those who grew up with the games, there may be enough here to spark a warm sense of nostalgia. For everyone else, it is likely to be a confusing, exhausting, and only intermittently entertaining experience. The film is rated PG-13 and runs 1 hour and 59 minutes. It opens on Friday, October 16. The cast includes Noah Centineo, Andrew Koji, Callina Liang, Joe “Roman Reigns” Anoai, David Dastmalchian, Cody Rhodes, Andrew Schulz, Eric André, Vidyut Jammwal, Orville Peck, Olivier Richters, Hirooki Goto, Rayna Vallandingham, Alexander Volkanovski, Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson, and Jason Momoa. The bottom line: it tries to beat you into submission.
