Street Fighter Review: A Star-Studded, Violent, Love Letter to the ‘90s

Street Fighter, the second attempt to bring the legendary fighting game franchise to the big screen, is somehow even weirder and more colorful than its trailers have made it look. In fact, the marketing hasn’t done it justice. But dismiss this flick as a misguided send-up at your own peril, because it packs a surprisingly charming punch underneath its bold, colorful visuals.

Street Fighter follows Ken Masters (Noah Centineo) and his former best friend and fellow fighter Ryu (Andrew Koji) six years after the end of the first World Warrior Tournament. Ryu walked away as champion, but with terrible, long-lasting consequences for both men. Now Ryu has forsaken fighting for a quiet life, while Ken is a bad boy celebrity who spends his time partying, cashing endorsement checks, and quietly longing for something more meaningful. But when dictator/crimelord M. Bison (a wonderful David Dastmalchian, having the time of his life) announces a new World Warrior Tournament, he sends Chun-Li (Callina Liang, in a potential breakout performance) to gather the world’s best fighters and the expected mayhem ensues.

Of course we have one protagonist fighting a dark side and characters with secret agendas. And of course we get villains doing the old “join me” schtick. If you’ve seen the trailers or played the games it goes without saying that Street Fighter is played as broadly as they come, at times feeling self-consciously like a ‘90s blockbuster (the film takes place in 1993 and it’s easy to see this sitting comfortably in a mid-’90s multiplex, just as Street Fighter II arcade machines populated so many theater lobbies). The spectacle is very much the point, and director Kitao Sakurai walks a tightrope of winking at the audience and celebrating the source material. It’s always just on the verge of going completely off the rails and slipping fully into parody, yet never feels like it’s apologizing for the source material’s excesses in the way that this year’s similarly colorful and ridiculous Masters of the Universe often seemed to.

Our heroes’ backstory is filled out via hand-drawn anime flashbacks. It’s ironic that these sequences – some of the film’s best moments – feel less heightened than the live-action portions. Instead, the anime serves as an effective reinforcement of Sakurai’s approach to the rest of the film, achieving with flesh-and-blood actors the kind of over-the-top action, emotion, and colorful cinematography associated with anime, with a healthy dose of wuxia-inspired fight choreography for good measure.

And oh, those fights! Centineo may get top billing, and he acquits himself well in the action scenes, but this is Andrew Koji’s movie. Koji cemented his bona fides leading HBO Max’s Warrior and his turn as Storm Shadow in the better-than-you’ve-probably-heard Snake Eyes. There’s a refreshing clarity and in-camera focus to most of the action, alternating between bone-crunching violence and video game excess. Unfortunately, the low point of the movie involves a CGI-enhanced Jason Momoa as the monstrous Blanka, a necessary and sincere adaptation for fans of the game, but the effect doesn’t quite land. Yet even this can be forgiven when we get humdingers like an inventive fight between Ryu and sumo wrestler E. Honda in a sauna (featuring New Japan Pro-Wrestling’s Hirooki Goto in an inspired piece of casting) and a gorgeous Ken/Ryu punch-up in the rain.

It’s a stacked, colorful ensemble, and while elements like Cody Rhodes’ absurd wig are attention-grabbing, there’s an endearing and truly funny strangeness to his hyper-macho Guile, especially when paired with a scene-stealing and magnetic Vidyut Jammwal as Dhalsim. Putting alt-country artist Orville Peck behind Vega’s mask or casting the always wonderful and welcome presence of Don Lee as Ken and Ryu’s mentor are sublime choices. It’s an effective mix of martial artists (note Rayna Vallandingham as one of the villains), pro wrestlers (yes, that’s perpetual WWE champ Roman Reigns under the Akuma special effects), and celebrities (Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson looking like he stepped right out of the video game, Eric Andre doing his absurd best), and everyone’s commitment to the bit just adds to the charm.

But the authentic ‘90s movie touch that Street Fighter could really use is a leaner run time. Some of the jokes – especially an anachronistic, cloying musical moment that overstays its welcome – are groaners. Even at an economical (at least by recent tentpole standards) 120 minutes, Street Fighter gets less interesting the bigger it gets in that last half hour. Still, it’s tough to fault Sakurai for going the distance with total conviction. If you were hoping for a serious street-level martial arts flick, well, Sonny Chiba this ain’t. But if you’re looking for a colorful, action-packed ride, drop your quarters in the slot, press start, and bring your friends.