Street Fighter

There’s something refreshing about an adaptation that lets its characters come across as slightly ridiculous without treating their world as disposable. *Street Fighter*, directed by Kitao Sakurai, draws much of its appeal from this subtle distinction. The costumes don’t go unnoticed, the bodies seem designed for impossible collisions, and personal disputes tend to escalate into spectacular displays of martial arts. Yet behind this exuberance lies a sympathetic understanding of what keeps this universe alive: each fighter expresses their personality through their movements. Uneven, at times a bit over-the-top, but driven by a contagious desire to entertain, this latest incarnation makes the theatricality of the arcade game its primary cinematic strength. Its best moments capture the joy of recognizing a favorite character, then discovering what a flesh-and-blood actor can bring to that familiar figure.

Setting the story in 1993 gives this approach its full meaning. Ryu, played by Andrew Koji, and Ken Masters, played by Noah Centineo, two friends who have drifted apart, are drawn into the World Warrior tournament by Chun-Li, played by Callina Liang. Behind the competition lies a conspiracy, though the most compelling question concerns the fractured relationship between its two main fighters. The tournament provides a convenient setting to bring together a colorful cast; their friendship gives the film a reason to move from one fight to the next. Above all, the screenplay lets these incompatible personalities shape their relationship. One takes refuge in discipline, while the other puts on a show to ensure they don’t go unnoticed. Their shared history shines through their irritation, their competitive instincts, and that stubborn attachment that neither of them really knows how to express.

Andrew Koji brings the most compelling physical presence to the film. His stillness exudes an authority that makes the final release of movement particularly satisfying. The scene where Ryu overpowers his old friend while remaining seated offers a particularly successful blend of character and choreography: superior technique becomes both a joke and an expression of emotional distance. Noah Centineo, for his part, fully embodies the vanity and foolishness of Ken Masters, accepting the risk of making a fighter who is otherwise very well-liked come across as exasperating. At times, the screenplay takes this foolishness a bit too far, reducing vulnerability to a mere punchline. Nevertheless, the contrast works because the performances pull in opposite directions without severing their connection. Their exchanges suggest a perceptive reading of the script: these men can communicate through combat with a precision that eludes them the moment they attempt to have a sincere conversation.

The action is particularly successful when it preserves the differences between fighting styles. The confrontation between Ryu and E. Honda in the public baths stands out in particular because its setting, physical rhythms, and recognizable attacks all fit within a single, coherent concept. Recognition is an integral part of the scene’s construction, rather than simply being superimposed upon it. Elsewhere, the iconic moves offer varying degrees of satisfaction: some possess the weight and clarity needed to make an improbable move convincing, while others remain clearly clumsy. The preparation behind this approach is revealing. Stunt choreographer Jon Valera and visual effects supervisor Sandra Balej were chosen by Kitao Sakurai for their enthusiasm in translating the games’ signature moves. This collaboration is essential in a film where an effect must extend a performer’s physical identity without overshadowing it. At its peak, the spectacle allows the audience to understand who is fighting based solely on their movements.

Callina Liang brings a welcome sense of determination to this already crowded universe. Her portrayal of Chun-Li helps ground a film that often tries to turn every scene into a gag, and the dedication she shows makes for a far more interesting behind-the-scenes story than yet another tale about wearing an uncomfortable costume. As she explained to Empire in an interview reported by GamesRadar+, she recorded the character’s movements in the game and studied them in slow motion, supplementing this research with training in taekwondo, muay thai, and wushu. What matters here is observation as much as physical effort: embodying a character means understanding the transitions between poses, not just nailing the right look. Alongside her, Cody Rhodes embraces Guile’s over-the-top style, while Jason Momoa brings all the charm of an unconventional casting choice to Blanka. The cast’s exuberance is a strength, even when the film fails to give each character enough screen time.

The animated flashbacks are another smart choice, adding a more intense visual dimension to the characters’ formative experiences. Their intensity evokes a past remembered through trauma and legend, forming an intriguing counterpoint to the frequent antics of the live-action scenes. The transition may seem abrupt, but this contrast adds texture to the film. The recurring use of the song “What’s Up?” by 4 Non Blondes is more divisive. In his interview with Nerdtropolis, Kitao Sakurai explained that the song’s role had grown in importance as the filmmakers worked their way backward through the story from a later emotional climax. This origin helps explain why the song is much more than just a piece of period décor: it becomes a shared reference through which two men, both uncomfortable with their emotions, can reconnect. The repetition of the song can sometimes grow tiresome, but there’s a rather appealing lack of self-consciousness in seeing such an over-the-top action movie place importance on a moment of group singing.

These reservations are significant enough to warrant consideration. David Dastmalchian is an intriguing choice to play Mr. Bison, but the character lacks the constant sense of menace needed to orchestrate the chaos around him. An over-the-top villain can be both funny and dangerous; here, the balance tips too often toward eccentricity at the expense of menace. The overloaded narrative also reduces certain encounters to the bare essentials and assumes a familiarity with the universe that newcomers may not possess. Most frustratingly, certain jokes interrupt the emotions the film is just beginning to evoke. A little more patience with its characters—and a little less anxiety about making every moment funny—would have strengthened the film as a whole. These weaknesses prevent the tournament from building the dramatic tension that its premise suggests, even though certain individual sequences manage to generate excitement.

Yet *Street Fighter* captured our full attention thanks to the power of its appeal. Its charm lies in the visual details, in the clash between incompatible personalities, and in its willingness to let a colorful world fill the screen without trying to justify itself. Kitao Sakurai doesn’t resolve all the tensions between comedy, spectacle, and emotional engagement, but the resulting friction is often fruitful: the film has character, and its excesses are an integral part of it. Its greatest achievement lies in a return to a simple pleasure all too easily lost in franchise cinema: the anticipation of seeing what happens when two clearly different fighters face off in the same ring. The storytelling could be sharper, and the villain more formidable. The enthusiasm, however, is backed by genuine strength.

Street Fighter
Directed by Kitao Sakurai
Written by T. J. Fixman, Kitao Sakurai
Story by Dalan Musson, Gary Dauberman
Based on Street Fighter by Capcom
Produced by Mary Parent, Cale Boyter, Jason Momoa, Takayuki Nakayama, Stefan Makhoul
Starring Noah Centineo, Andrew Koji, Callina Liang, Joe "Roman Reigns" Anoa'I, David Dastmalchian, Cody Rhodes, Eric André, Andrew Schulz, Vidyut Jammwal, Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson, Jason Momoa
Cinematography : Ken Seng
Edited by Luke Lynch
Music by Leo Birenberg, Zach Robinson
Production companies :  Legendary Pictures, Capcom, 
Distributed by Paramount Pictures
Release date : October 14, 2026 (France), October 16, 2026 (United States)
Running time : 120 minutes

Viewed on October 12, 2026, at the UGC Ciné-cité Bercy