Get Your Geek On

It's a world rampant with megalomania, shady characters, general connivery and (gasp) celebrity. No, not Hollywood. Or Vegas. Surprisingly, it's the microcosm of competitive video gaming—a curious, insular community that has been captured by the wildly entertaining documentary, The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters. In the film, the celebrities of the gaming world prove they can be equally as self-involved as other famous figures, only instead of flaunting classic features and emaciated physiques, these revered icons sport mullets and speak in Star Wars analogies.

Now, I'm not a self-professed gamer. I may have played my share of "Goldeneye" shoot-em-ups and was, admittedly, engrossed by calculator games in high school (lo-fi bowling, anyone?). But that hardly qualifies. Fortunately, you don't need to play video games, you don't need to like video games, hell, you don't even need to understand video games in order to love The King of Kong. In fact, it's entirely possible that we non-gamers may enjoy the film on a much more visceral level than the quarter-pumping arcade-aholics. I say this because much of the pleasure and comedy of the film derives from the absurd contrast between the gaming microcosm and the macrocosmic world at large. The "outside looking in" perspective effectively frames the narrative.

But there's another reason why joystick dexterity isn't a prerequisite for loving this film. The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters isn't just about gaming. It's about the people immersed in the gaming competition. The film follows two central subjects—Billy Mitchell, the defending Donkey Kong champion, and Steve Wiebe, the high-scoring challenger hoping to trounce Mitchell's long-held record. Though they may be united by mutual goals of earning acclaim in Donkey Kong, the two competitors could not be more different. Where Mitchell is an underhanded narcissist obsessed with his own dominance, Wiebe is a kind-hearted, devoted family man who just can't catch a break. Granted, the film has been carefully constructed to cast Mitchell and Wiebe in their archetypal villain-hero roles. I'm sure there's unseen footage of Mitchell being the nice guy. But regardless, it makes for a good story.

As you can imagine, these personality profiles provide a significant majority of the film's entertainment value. Some of the most hilarious (and, perhaps tragic) moments of the film concern Mitchell's interminable delusions of grandeur. If you didn't know better, Mitchell might convince you that he is one of the most potent figures in America (or maybe even in the world). By contrast, some of the most poignant moments of the film concern Wiebe's long fought efforts to gain recognition, the resilience he exhibits, and his emotional candor. But Mitchell and Wiebe are not the only sources of entertainment. Other video-gaming "characters" such as the referee, Walter Day; the Donkey Kong enthusiast, Brian Kuh; and the over-the-top "Mr. Awesome" bring the film to a new level of hilarity.

The true accolades, however, should go to Seth Gordon, the filmmaker behind The King of Kong. Gordon has expertly crafted a non-fiction narrative that is so enthralling and so well constructed it begs viewers to run back for another showing. The pacing never lags (thanks to the economical editing), the story structure flows well, and the visual plane never gets stale, since Gordon intersplices the standard interview shots with images and other footage. As hard as I try, I cannot find anything wrong with this movie, and frankly, I don't want to. When the movie ended, I felt completely satiated. And judging by all of the applause in the crowd, so did my fellow filmgoers. So what I recommend to you, is embrace your inner geek. Become one with the yoda inside you. I officially and wholeheartedly endorse this film and urge everyone to do the same. Now turn around while I push up my glasses and adjust my pocket protector.