Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010)

directed by Edgar Wright

Cody Corrall

It was the summer before eighth grade and I wanted nothing more than to look like Ramona Flowers. I had just seen Edgar Wright’s Scott Pilgrim vs. the World and was amazed that someone was allowed to look like that. She had a new fluorescent head of hair every other week and appeared to be the embodiment of effortless and cool—something I definitely didn’t have as an awkward teenager. That dream wouldn’t be realized for several years as I went to a school that didn’t allow “unnatural” hair colors—so I settled for the closest shade to black I could get away with, anything to signal an alternative rebellion.

I couldn’t be the gender-confused manifestation of the “manic pixie dream girl” I so desperately admired, so, like any frustrated teen with access to the internet, I turned to Tumblr. In many ways, the intersection of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World and Tumblr was my gateway to the internet and online discourse. I followed fanblogs dedicated to the comic series, made GIF-sets of my favorite scenes and moments, and found a community of people online who liked the same things I did and wanted to talk about them endlessly.

In his review for The Windy City Times, Richard Knight, Jr. called Scott Pilgrim vs. the World a “great comedy for the distracted YouTube generation.” This works both on a textual level and an audience reception level. The video-game-like special effects and cartoonish editing style are perfect for the internet kids who constantly need to be stimulated, and they become more rewarding the more you watch it. But the film also provides an extensive launchpad for conversation, both in real life and through online forums. In some ways, that’s largely why Scott Pilgrim vs. the World has managed to hold onto its cultural relevance, even after initially underperforming at the box office.

In the 10 years since Scott Pilgrim vs. the World’s release, I’ve had my fun being every shade of Ramona; I even have Scott’s scribbled portrait of her tattooed on me. But the more I watch the film, the more interesting I find Scott as a character and the ever-evolving discourse that’s surrounded him.

Scott is a perfect mirror of the film’s audience because of his simplicity. He’s a 22-year-old white guy from Toronto who plays bass in a shitty band and spends most of his time in the arcade—a relatable representation of modern suburbia. His life completely changes when he meets the girl of his (literal) dreams, Ramona, who has seven evil exes that must be defeated in order to win her love. Scott is forced to go from average guy to comic book hero in an instant, all while confronting his myriad of personal problems.

Scott is effectively the starter white guy in a video game character customization menu—embodied by its human equivalent Michael Cera. In his review for The Guardian, Peter Bradshaw calls Cera “the most sexually unthreatening male in the history of cinema, with a gentle, moonish face that makes him look like an early-60s Beatle.” In The New York Times, A.O Scott characterizes Scott as having “the voice of Gumby and the muscle tone to match.” In The Hollywood Reporter, Kirk Honeycutt calls Cera “Hollywood's go-to guy for dewy-eyed male innocence that somehow isn't cloying.”

Critics and audiences may have seen Scott as a loveable loser, but in the heyday of insufferable discourse that only Tumblr can foster, Scott is deeply “problematic.” And there’s no disputing that, at least in regards to his relationships with the women in his life. He’s dating high schooler Knives Chau in an attempt to have a “simple” relationship after a bad breakup. He cheats on said high school girlfriend with Ramona, who he treats more like an object or a prize to win than a fully realized person. His bandmate and high school ex Kim Pine is clearly emotionally scarred, probably due to his expert aloofness.

Scott Pilgrim kinda sucks, and that’s okay. He’s both a likeable scamp and a dirtbag—and that can be hard to grapple with in a polarizing conversation environment without any nuance. Scott is interesting because he is an imperfect protagonist. He makes a lot of mistakes—some less forgivable than others—and he has to learn to level up both in Ramona’s “game” and in his own life.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World embodies a hero’s journey for a new generation. There’s no way the version of Scott at the beginning of the movie wins in the end. Defeating every ex acts like a video game checkpoint, but each interaction unravels more about Scott's psyche and forces him to grow up. And he is rewarded for owning up to his bad actions and changing for the better, whether it’s through coins or EXP points or a glowing sword symbolizing the “power of self-respect.” And by the end of the film, the final boss isn’t one of Ramona’s exes, but the literal dark version of himself.

Scott may be read more sympathetically as a character because of Cera’s charming yet completely helpless performance, but the film isn’t complicit in his bad behavior. He constantly begs the people in his life to pity him or give him emotional labor—whether it be his roommate Wallace Wells, his sister Stacey, or the women he courts—but he is never given that satisfaction and is left to figure out his shit on his own.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World depicts a complicated and contradictory sense of being human, but it’s one that reflects our equally complicated reality. He starts as a selfish twenty-something who doesn’t see others as complex people, and even though it’s through extraordinary circumstances, Scott ends the film a better person.

In a way, the eclectic ensemble of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World acts as a kaleidoscopic reflection of ourselves—ebbing and flowing each time we revisit it. When I saw the film for the first time, I resembled Knives—young, scrappy, too easily taken advantage of by men who didn’t care, and so desperately wanting to be a Ramona. Now, it varies. Sometimes I see myself in the rage of Kim, or the pettiness of Wallace, or in Ramona’s sad escapism.

But in the end, Scott will always feel like home—not in spite of his laundry list of faults, but because of them. Growing up with Scott Pilgrim means interrogating your motivations and your relationships with others—and learning that leveling up is a constant process.

I still have some leveling up to do, but I’m glad I get to do it with Scott Pilgrim.

Cody Corrall is a culture critic for the Chicago Reader and Cine-File—among other places on the world wide web—with a focus on genre, identity, and the moving image. They also co-host the weekly podcast "Into the Twilight." You can follow them on Twitter, I guess, @codycorrall.