THE WASHINGTON POST • FRIDAY, AUGUST 13, 2010
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SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD
Only fans will care who wins
by Ann Hornaday
“Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” is a dog- frequency movie: enjoyable only to those tuned in to its particular register. Based on a graphic novel by Bryan Lee O’Malley, this hyper-kinetic pop-culture pastiche stars Michael Cera — he of the quavery voice and dilated gaze — as the title character, a 22- year-old Lothario and would-be rocker who meets the girl of his dreams, then sets out to defeat her seven exes to gain her love. Love, actually, has little to do with it in a
story populated by progressively snarkier, self-involved characters. Stripped of his doe-eyed looks and indie-nerd style, Pil- grim is a selfish jerk; Ramona V. Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), who in her rainbow-colored pageboys resembles a grown-up version of Hit-Girl from the eeri- ly similar “Kick-Ass,” isn’t much warmer, looking on with a blase shrug as her suitor risks life and limb on her behalf. The two are surrounded by a posse of equally snarly, eye-rolling hipsters, the big- gest neg-heads being Kim Pine (Alison Pill), the drummer in Pilgrim’s band, and his roommate, Wallace Wells (Kieran Cul- kin), whose sexual orientation provides
THE EXPENDABLES
Aging dogs of war go to camp
by Ann Hornaday It would be so easy to hate “The Expend-
ables,” a super-stoked action thriller writ- ten and directed by Sylvester Stallone that injects a whopping dose of steroids into the term “vanity project.” Drenched in mayhem and machismo, overstuffed with stunts, explosions, strutting and fretting and risible dialogue, this is a movie de- signed to leave filmgoers feeling not so much pumped as pummeled into submis- sion, grateful for having survived an all-out assault on their senses and sensibilities. But just when “The Expendables” threat- ens to sink under its own considerable weight, Terry Crews blows a guy’s brains out, silhouetted through a backlit doorway, and the entire groaning enterprise levi- tates on a ludicrous plume of pure camp. Stallone plays Barney Ross, leader of the titular gang of mercenaries with names like Lee Christmas (Jason Statham) and Gunnar Jensen (Dolph Lundgren); Crews himself plays — wait for it — Hale Caesar. Hired by a mystery man named Mr. Church to unseat a despot in South America, Ross and the boys use the opportunity to lay waste to everything they see: At one point
UNIVERSAL PICTURES Kieran Culkin, left, Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Michael Cera play snarky hipsters in “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.”
nearly endless fodder for gay jokes. The only sympathetic character is a high schooler named Knives Chau (Ellen Wong), who, in a romantic fantasy only a boy could conceive, gamely urges him to follow Ramona even after cruelly dumping her. The story and characters of “Scott Pil- grim vs. the World,” then, are negligible. But fans of the novel aren’t likely to care, reserving their most passionate interest for how director Edgar Wright (“Shaun of the Dead,” “Hot Fuzz”) has brought their precious antihero to the screen. The short answer: every which way he can, borrow- ing references from video games, cartoons,
sitcoms and other movies to create a multi- layered collage that makes the levels of “In- ception” look like a toddler’s Tinkertoy project. There are funny moments: The film’s
best fight is between Pilgrim and Todd Ingram (Brandon Routh), a buff-but- dumb vegan who becomes hoisted on his own self-righteous petard. But what Wright possesses in a talent for swift, visually rich image-making he lacks in a sense of pacing and proportion. He dials “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” up to 11 within minutes, leaving him nowhere to take the narrative energy. Trippy on- screen titles (“Riiiing!” when a tele-
phone rings, “Dddddd” when someone plays the bass), Super Mario Bros. graphics, light saber duels, jump cuts, screen wipes, zingers, quips and dogger- el — it’s all played with the same empha- sis and knowing insularity. Unless you can hear its particular whistle, “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” is a grind, as mo- notonous and enervating as one long, sneering in-joke.
hornadaya@washpost.com
PG-13. At area theaters. Contains stylized violence, sexual content, profanity and drug references. 108 minutes.
B½ There are laughs galore in “The Expend-
ables,” some of them even intended. Eric Roberts, in a smooth portrayal of a villain- ous shadow figure, makes the most of a joke about families during the holidays. But mostly it’s a showcase for action pieces, whether it’s Statham beating a ro- mantic rival to a pulp on a basketball court, martial arts star Jet Li getting the better of a man twice his size or World Championship Wrestling star Steve Austin going mano-a-beefy-mano with Stallone. (If you pay attention, you can even see the scene where Stone Cold broke Sly’s neck — for real.)
KAREN BALLARD
“The Expendables,” starring, from left, Jason Statham, Sylvester Stallone and Randy Couture, packs a punch even as it stretches the limits of believability.
Ross, after literally catching a seaplane, strafes and sets fire to a pier, reducing it to a smoldering cinder. Later, in the film’s in- terminable climax, bullets, knives and bare hands fly in an incomprehensible vortex as arms and heads and body parts get thrown into the melee.
Stallone gives himself a love interest —
played by the earthily sensuous Giselle Itié — but mostly they glower at each other in a who-has-the-fullest-upper-lip competi- tion. Primarily “The Expendables” is about
bros and the bros who love them — and, in the case of Stallone and Statham, the old dogs of action passing the baton to a younger generation. The movie’s signature scene, featuring two chattered-about cam- eos, has the nice feel of a self-mocking riff, but there’s an unmistakable sense that these are three men who just left off talk- ing about their prostates, or maybe their investment portfolios, snapping to atten- tion just in time to smirk knowingly for the camera.
But perhaps the most jaw-dropping scene in “The Expendables” — which may be this year’s most mistitled movie, the only thing expendable in it being believ- ability — features Mickey Rourke, who as a tattoo artist named Tool dares to commit serious acting within an otherwise unintel- ligible stew of jousts and japery. With the camera just inches from his face, it’s pos- sible to see the beginning of a tear as Tool recalls a harrowing episode in his life as a soldier of fortune, and for a moment there it looks like Rourke is delivering a credible performance. Within the adrenal grunts and high-five guy talk swirling around him, Rourke’s reflective moment is noth- ing short of a death-defying stunt.
hornadaya@washpost.com
R. At area theaters. Contains strong action and bloody violence throughout, and some profanity. 103 minutes.
BB½
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