If there was ever a movie that truly captured the essence of the digital generation, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is the pinnacle of it all. Movies that have targeted this generation include Superbad, Juno, Pineapple Express, Knocked Up, The Hangover, The 40-year-old Virgin, Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, Garden State, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, (500) Days of Summer, Shrek – these comedy films collectively broke away from ‘80s archetypes of macho-nacho Arnolds and sexy-smexy Sharons. At the core, these films aimed to create more honest, more vulnerable characters on screen, presented either naturalistically, stylistically, or slang-slinging snarkily – regardless, they are all hilarious in their own right. Most of these films’ soundtracks are compilations of songs, each a flavorful (and invariably) pop culture tribute that listeners will catch here and there, further adding to the slice-of-life, down-to-earth susceptibility (or diabolically manic attitude) that these likewise movies try to depict. However, Scott Pilgrim goes where no movie of late has successfully gone before: to take every aspect of arcades, video games, internet memes, hackers and trolls alike, and throw it up on the big screen for everyone to see it in its ultimate glory. 

From here, I think it’s necessary to backtrack a bit – before Scott Pilgrim, before Facebook, before Wikipedia, before Google, before AOL, before MIDIs, before Windows '98 – the beginning of what we know as the digital generation. 

My dad is a hard drive engineer, and has been since I can remember when I started remembering. His occupation invariably resulted in me and my brothers having very early exposure to the desktop computer, which he had brought home from work. There wasn’t any word processing, media center, internet, anything what we would call absolute standard today: it was DOS, and I remember asking and learning how to log into the main screen (“dad-day, what do I type in a-gain?”) My brothers and I would fight over the computer so we could play some of those awesome games like SkiFree, Minesweeper, that submarine game I can’t remember, some Mickey Mouse game I can’t remember either – we fought and clawed at one another just to play a simple 32-bit games that were rather difficult (that damn Yeti would always murder us in SkiFree, and only recently have I learned how to overcome this obstacle. Blast!) My brothers and I remember our dad using those giant floppy disks that were “uber cool,” and that the concept of a portable computer, the laptop, was “way futuristic dude.”

We also remember the Nintendo NES and the subsequent Super Nintendo NES, and how we watched in awe as our friends played Mario on the non-flat, antenna-crowned television (“watch the turtle thing!”); how we were early observers of video sharing when my dad’s friends recorded multiple movies onto a tape (“keep rewinding – Beauty and the Beast is the second one on this video tape”); how much we begged our mom to let us buy and share one Gameboy mini (despite our desolate puppy eyes, we were rather unsuccessful on this front with our mother; however, my younger sibling managed to get away with it somehow and secluded himself with black and white Mario – I suspect my dad or his friend had a hand in this scheme); how addicting and costly it was to play your way through the entirety of a arcade game (one time, my brothers and I spent at least an hour playing this Simpsons game, and I suspect we dished out at least twenty dollars worth of change to stay alive and get our names on the hall of fame); when anime suddenly became mainstream pop culture when Pokemon hit the scene, with the trading cards and anime and movies and all (my old AP History teacher in high school compared the Pokemon trading cards to the stock market crash that caused the Great Depression, and boy was he right – I must have driven my mom crazy when I told her my card collection was over after months of trading and buying like the proper model consumerist); when the N64 duked it out the Playstation before the Xbox came into play; when getting on the internet involved jacking your phone line and annoying everyone in your family who needed to make a important phone call (“DUDE, get off the internet! Don’t make me phone jack you!”); when Nokia was still its own telecommunications company, and that everyone had a Nokia phone with customizable face plates (“mine has flowers because I am HIP like that”); and how it turned out that typing in queries with an added dot-com didn’t exactly get you to where you wanted (“let’s look up the white house – I’ll type in whitehouse.com and… AW GOD NO!”)

My brothers, my friends and I remember that transition period too, of cable television taking off; when pedestrian web designing became available (I remember being in awe of my friend when she managed to upload clips of Pokemon onto a website: “DUDE HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!”); when floppy disks were phased out by CDs; when MIDIs were not the only thing possible anymore when it came to streaming music on the internet; when flash and javascript started ousting html (and ultimately deterred me from pursuing web designing as an occupation); when mp3 players started showing up, years before Apple’s iPod launched; when DVDs started selling in Costco, modestly placed next to the aisles and stacks of video tapes; when our teachers started telling us to use Google instead of Metacrawler and the like (“it’s educational!”); and when the digital age became defined by the digitalization at hand, from games to encyclopedias to music to film to communication, everything. I can’t pinpoint an exact year when it happened, but at some point it did, and with a tour de force. Here is when the digital generation took off. 

What do I mean by the digital generation? I believe it to be inclusive of the generation that grew up with the early and current development of the world wide web and video games – essentially the generation that saw the transition from VCRs to DVDs, CDs to mp3s, newspapers to times online, and so on. Individuals of this generation don’t necessarily have to be involved with video games or the internet; rather, what I mean is that the digitalization of technology – of games and information – allowed this generation to research and look up infinite amounts of information at their very fingertips, and that this availability has, in a sense, caused an acceleration of intellect and A.D.D.-like symptoms – there’s just too much information to learn. 

This acceleration of intellect and A.D.D. compounds into an interesting mix: there’s almost a manic desire to prove oneself on the net, where your physical identity dilutes down into the avatar you choose, the style and language with which you write, and the subjects and discussions that you habitually gravitate towards. There’s snark, there’s trolling, there’s administration, there’s moderating, there’s polemic-ing, there’s wit, there’s extremism, there’s thoughtfulness, there’s intellect, there’s meme-ing – essentially anything is possible on the net, and you can define a anonymous identity simply by choosing which characteristics of the net to display, ignore, or engage in. 

This is where Scott Pilgrim comes in. If there’s one thing this movie does right, it’s paying tribute to the genesis of the digital generation: all the way back from SkiFree to Super Nintendo NES to Arcades to the manic identities of the internet, Scott Pilgrim is a celebration of all these qualities which define this particular generation – everything that makes the internet and video games awesome and stupid at the same time. 

You’re pretentious, this club sucks, I have beef. Let’s fight.

Talk to the cleaning lady on Monday. Because you’ll be dust by Monday. Because you’ll be pulverized in two seconds. The cleaning lady? She cleans up… dust. She dusts.

Scott Pilgrim is jumpy, bouncy, shiny, punchy, quirky – all in a glorious bundle of gaming honor and back-and-forth internet-style quips that critics bemoan as the downfall of intelligent and meaningful discussion. It’s like 4chan come to life, barfing up Pedobear and Philosoraptor into the vein of these characters as they duke it out in arcade-style arenas and consequences (in fact, some of the aesthetic reminded me of the glory days of Street Fighter and more recently Tatsunoko vs. Capcom). Vegans have psychic powers, music creates ferocious beasts, defeated opponents give you tokens, girls pull giant hammers out of their teeny-tiny purses, swords pop out of your chest – none of this makes sense, and trying to decipher their symbolic meanings is as pointless as a snuggie. You simply have to let everything explode around you in its fireworks display of green hair and ninjas, absorbing and digesting it all into a chyme of caramel popcorn and deep-fried twinkles. And hell, what a chyme it is. 

The film makes no attempt to argue whether or not video games are art (this is a wise choice, given how much flack Ebert received for claiming they are not). Instead, the film is a grand celebration of the frenetic energy that compels players to participate in the fun, the vigor and enthusiasm that results in rapid-fire remarks that can be uncannily hilarious or sarcastic or both. Scott Pilgrim celebrates everything that makes the internet great and terrible, intelligent and dumb, moralizing and demoralizing, and everything in between. Moreover, director Edgar Wright makes an effort to depict these gamer and snark characteristics in the positive – that while these characters are engaging in what judgmental critics deem as immature, insubstantial and trivial, they are still very much human and transitioning from the limbo of adolescence into something less immature, less insubstantial, and less trivial – or at least trying to. 

I don’t know how to explain this film except to say it truly is a great tribute to the digital generation, and that trying to understand the film logically is utterly useless. It’s a fervent display of colors and emotions, magnificently game-like and A.D.D. in its aesthetic. It’s an incredibly inventive film on multiple levels, and has established Edgar Wright as a favorite director of mine (his credits include Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz). Michael Cera plays Michael Cera again, but at this point his less of an actor and more of a presence on screen that will either draw us to or drive us away from the film itself. Regardless, I enjoyed it thoroughly and was able to ignore Michael Cera being Michael Cera (reportedly he was portraying Scott Pilgrim; now I have not read the original comic books, but there’s a sneaking suspicion that this Scott Pilgrim is incredibly similar to George Michael from Arrested Development, Evan from Superbad, and Paulie Bleeker from Juno – but I may be projecting in this case). 

So imagine my dismay when I heard that Scott Pilgrim was deprived of the weekend box office success after getting sandwiched by two very gendered films: The Expendables and Eat, Pray, Love. It’s like a repercussion attack from the '80s and '90s– the macho-nacho Stallones rambling up the screen with He-man guns and explosions of the '80s, and the self-righteousness of faux feminists that the '90s otherwise defended as “female empowerment” when really, the movie-character of Elizabeth Gilbert could easily be one of the most unlikable characters to date (let’s be frank: do you really think you can reach a lifetime of enlightenment by simply taking meditation 101 for only three months, and then mosey off to some other paradise and have a bloody blastastic time?) The respective characteristics of these two decades that the digital generation actively rejects and departs from are, ironically, the same characteristics that crushed Scott Pilgrim from a successful opening weekend run. 

Of course I’m disappointed. There’s a slight bitterness as to how things turned out: I wanted – no, expected – Scott Pilgrim to succeed, yet the '80s and '90s are still a haunting force that drives demographics to decide upon which movies to see or not. In this case, it seems that the digital generation isn’t strong enough to empower its cinematic representative, even in the prime age of digitalization. And with '80s remakes like The A-Team, I’m beginning to wonder if current political, economic and social constructions are starting to sway in favor of a decade that resulted in my university tuition being raised and financial aid being slashed, a decade which envisioned a trickle-down theory that has invariably failed on so many levels. 

I wonder these things with a slightly bitter heart, mostly because this digital generation – my generation – is still getting the axe from older generations. Scott Pilgrim celebrates the disco and bellbottoms of the digital generation, the meditation bongs of the internet and the folk songs of video games – not equivalently, but certainly analogous. So in a illogical, emotional way, the lackluster box office of Scott Pilgrim feels like the digital generation still isn’t getting the respect or recognition from moviegoers who’d rather see Sylvester Stallone blow up more stuff or Julia Roberts eat and consummate her way to happiness. 

I’ll fling all the RAGEEEE!!! and FUUUUUU!!! I want, but box office numbers are going to be the way they are. I can appreciate what Wright does with Scott Pilgrim, lavish in the memes and hax0rs of the digital generation, and find someone to borrow off the six graphic novels so I can start reading them in my spare time if case A.D.D. bounces me away from my current reading list of Anna Karenin and The Catcher in the Rye. However, when I see renown critics like A.O. Scott syntactically jumping up and down with glee in their beaming reviews of films that represent the digital generation, I can’t help but smile and feel a little bit validated. Just a bit, but just enough to feel just peachy whenever I feel like picking up the Wii to play some good ol’ Super Smash Brothers Brawl. 

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Recommended Readings

• Two articles by Erich Kuersten on his criticism and defense of Scott Pilgrim (and Michael Cera)

• Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Review by Emanuel Levy

• Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Review by A.O. Scott