A Love Letter to Someone Else

Spoilers for Scott Pilgrim vs the World

Tonight I saw Scott Pilgrim for a second time.

When I came out of it on Saturday, I was filled with OMG THAT WAS AWESOME. Tonight? Not so much.

Tonight I realized that regardless of all the references I caught, squees over the perfect casting, covetousness over various costume pieces and accessories...this movie wasn't written for me.

In fact, I am merely a coathanger to the plot of that love letter. I'm not an active participant--and neither was Ramona Flowers.

This movie (and the comic) was, quite literally, a story about how a woman's past just about killed the guy interested in her.

Josh, very astutely, compared this story to High Fidelity, noting that they were similar tales of different stages in "mens' lives."

Both sources are excellent, innovative, and honestly new takes on a yawn-inducingly tired story. One that, again, has nothing to do with me.

While she had a bit more "there" there in the comic, Ramona Flowers is nothing more than a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. No amount of hair color shifts, pithy one-liners, or awesome fight skills make up a character. Shit, even Knives had more character development than she did. (I'm referring solely to the movie, here. The Knives plot was resolved far sooner in the comic.)

I guess, in the end, I feel very hurt that a movie I was told was for me, wasn't for me at all. And in fact, doesn't regard me at all.

I'm not saying the movie was bad. My qualms aside, it truly was a hat tip to almost every subculture to which I hold a membership. Edgar Wright once again proved his brilliance.

I just wish...the love had been more inclusive.