‘Scott Pilgrim vs. the World’

So much for the theme-park ride theory of cinema.

With "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World," movies have abandoned the roller coaster model in favor of the video game aesthetic.

And while it may sound like a great idea to certain audiences, "Scott Pilgrim" demonstrates -- definitively -- why it's not.

Oh, I'm sure there'll be plenty of players -- make that viewers -- grooving on the movie's vibrantly wacky visual approach and rocket-powered pacing.

Maybe they'll be too bedazzled by all the fast and furious flourishes to notice what's missing: such old-fashioned elements as character development and a storyline that does something other than reset and repeat ad nauseam. (According to Nietzsche's theory of eternal recurrence, we're destined to relive everything in exactly the same way for eternity anyway, but Nietzsche probably wouldn't be happy that "Scott Pilgrim" proves his point so literally.)

And speaking of repeating ad nauseam, isn't it time for "Scott Pilgrim's" leading man, Michael Cera, to grow up already?

We've already seen him suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous adolescence in movies from "Superbad" to "Juno," "Youth in Revolt" to "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist."

By now, however, Cera's quiveringly callow act, once so endearing, is getting old. (Even if he isn't.)

Maybe another, fresher presence might have made "Scott Pilgrim" easier to embrace.

It's doubtful, however, because the problem's bigger than Cera.

Blame a self-proclaimed "epic of epic epicness" so entranced by its own style that it doesn't seem to notice, or care, that video games and movies aren't the same thing.

Then again, Scott Pilgrim's not the sort of guy who notices much anyway.

A 20-something Toronto slacker, Scott spends his time playing bass for a struggling rock band and dating -- sort of -- high school student Knives Chau (charmingly naive Ellen Wong). Which is to say that Scott and Knives play martial arts arcade games and hold hands occasionally.

That's good enough for Scott -- until he catches sight of magenta-tressed Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) and knows that she's his very own personal punk goddess, The One destined to change his life. (Why, we're not sure. But never mind -- Scott and the movie certainly don't.)

Like Scott, Ramona's got some previous romantic baggage.

Unlike Scott -- whose former flame (Brie Larson) not only "kicked his heart in the ass" but has had the temerity to become a real live rock star since their breakup -- Ramona has seven ex-flames.

But not just any ex-flames. Evil ex-flames who love to punch, kick, stomp and maim anyone who so much as attempts to get up close and personal with Ramona.

Fortunately for Scott, true love -- or true lust, or whatever it is he feels for Ramona -- revs up mysterious superpowers he never suspected he had, enabling him to "Blam!" and "Kapow!" and otherwise vanquish everyone from a skateboard-riding action movie star (Chris Evans) to the slimy record exec (Jason Schwartzman) Scott and his bandmates hope will sign them to a big fat contract, once they win the local battle of the bands.

If the plot sounds like a hundred other movies you've seen before, it pretty much is.

But if "Scott Pilgrim" doesn't look like a hundred other movies, that doesn't necessarily make it worth seeing.

More's the pity, because in its opening moments, "Scott Pilgrim" has the look -- and the crazed energy -- of something truly special.

Working from Bryan Lee O'Malley's graphic novels, writer-director Edgar Wright ("Shaun of the Dead," "Hot Fuzz") gives the movie a hyperactive funhouse vibe, punctuating the manic doings with inventive visual flourishes. Pink hearts flutter up when lovers kiss. The screen splits in half, horizontally, to track attacking adversaries as they charge toward a spark-laden confrontation. And Ramona's so hot she can melt snow.

Once these and other visual gimmicks have worn out their welcome, however, "Scott Pilgrim" doesn't really have anything to replace them with -- except more of same.

The grandiose images suggest the elaborate, outlandish fantasy lives of the movie's characters -- but they turn out to be the only interesting things about them.

The central characters, that is.

"Scott Pilgrim" introduces several intriguing figures, from Scott's scornful sister (sharp-as-ever Anna Kendrick of "Twilight" and "Up in the Air") to his quirky roommate (a scene-stealing Kieran Culkin) to a surly bandmate (amusingly hostile Alison Pill) who's yet another former girlfriend of Scott's. And it's fun to watch erstwhile comic-book good guys Evans ("Fantastic Four") and Brandon Routh ("Superman Returns") spoof their superhero images.

Ultimately, however, "Scott Pilgrim" never really gives us a reason to care about its title character, let alone his romance with Ramona.

They're just excuses for more attention-deficit visual pyrotechnics, designed to disguise the essential emptiness of Scott Pilgrim -- and his world.

They may provide enough of a distraction for some audience members. But this is one world I wanted to stop -- long before it stopped spinning.

Contact movie critic Carol Cling at ccling@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0272.