Street Fighter review: What if its giving Super Mario Bros. live-action, but I love that?

In terms of quality, 2026 has been a bleak year for big-budget video game adaptations. Yes, yes, The Super Mario Galaxy Movie made over a billion dollars, and Mortal Kombat II turned a lean profit. But they were also two of the very worst movies I've seen all year. The former made me all too aware of what a short span of time we have in this life, and how much of it I was obliged to sacrifice for a relentless Nintendo ad. The latter urged me to ask, "The bar is in hell for video game movies, huh?"

So, my expectations were admittedly very low for Street Fighter, the latest movie adaptation of the Capcom video game series known for badass characters and eye-popping special moves. I'm more surprised than anyone to confess that I had an absolute blast at this movie.

Directed by Kitao Sakurai, Street Fighter leans hard into a '90s aesthetic of glorious neon lighting, hard-hitting pop music, unhinged action, and a general lustiness that's been bled out of mainstream American cinema. Plus, Sakurai and co-writer T.J. Fixman understand that the best way to have fun in this franchise is not to take it too seriously.

Street Fighter (2026) has a lot of spinning plates in terms of plot

One might well argue too many! First off, you've got egomaniacal tyrant M. Bison (a sneering David Dastmalchian) hosting the World Warrior Tournament II to set a trap for the first tournament's winner, Ryu (Andrew Koji). See, Bison is so power-hungry that he wants to milk all the "psycho power" from Ryu's body to fuel his own. There's just one problem: Ryu has gone missing after the death of his sensei, Gouken, and the subsequent estrangement from his best friend, Ken Masters (Noah Centineo).

Meanwhile, Ken emerges from Ryu's shadow to become a stunt fighter who battles panda bears and parked cars to line his own pockets and those of his manager, Dan (Andrew Schulz). Tasked with finding the best street fighters in the world, Bison's emissary Chun-Li (Callina Liang) invites Ken not because of his bad reputation, but to lure in his estranged brother-in-arms. Determined to prove himself, Ken enters the tournament, ready to face off against fighters like Guile (Cody Rhodes), Dhalsim (Vidyet Jammwal), Balrog (Curtis "50 Sent" Jackson), Zangief (Olivier Richters), E. Honda (Hirooki Goto), and Vega (Orville Peck, who is, of course, masked).

Meanwhile, Chun-Li has her own secret mission, with a tragic backstory fleshed out in gorgeous anime flashbacks. And on top of all that, Ryu's secret struggle is to resist the darkness within him that surfaces in battle. Should he give in to it, he could become evil, like his master's fiercest foe, Akuma (Joe "Roman Reigns" Anoa'i).

Simply put, it's a lot for one movie. Maybe too much? For better or worse, Sakurai's approach to Street Fighter is more is more.

Street Fighter is too much, but I'm not mad about it

This movie begins with a flashback to the first World Warrior Tournament in 1986, and, like the Chun-Li flashbacks, it's presented in an anime style. This presumably allows Sakurai to save some money on effects, allude to Street Fighter's various incarnations, including animation, and bring nostalgia out of the gate for longtime fans of the franchise.

As the movie leaps ahead to 1993, it will not address the mixed-media use of live action and animation. And that same unapologetic attitude is applied to the film's design. The cinematography of Ken Seng leans into neon lighting that swaths these iconic characters in brazen purples, pinks, reds, and blues to a thrilling effect.

The score by composers Leo Birenberg and Zach Robinson leans on electric guitar and synth keyboards that throw back to '90s action-movie sensibilities. And the soundtrack boasts bangers like 4-Non-Blondes' "What's Up?", White Zombie's "More Human Than Human," Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun," and Montell Jordan's "This is How We Do It." (Yes, several of these songs are anachronisms, as they came out after 1993. But this is a movie where people can levitate, stretch like rubber, and shoot electricity from their bodies. Let's not get hung up on petty things like historical accuracy!)

This '90s aesthetic is echoed in slyly leering shots that revel in a bit of flesh, an exposed six-pack here, a flash of sideboob there, and a bit of bum. This kind of PG-13 horniness made me unexpectedly nostalgic for an age where Hollywood movies casually recognized that humans are sexual beings.

Fans of the franchise will be glad to know the costumes by Kym Barrett draw heavily from the games, while allowing a sense of self-aware winks. This is reflected in a screenplay that not only loops in tons of catchphrases from the game but also a cheeky sensibility that brings some irreverent humor and some wonderfully dumb jokes into the mix.

Noah Centineo is the MVP of Street Fighter

To the credit of the ensemble as a whole, they're all game.

Koji is compelling as the tortured warrior Ryu. Liang brings a terrific ferocity to Chun-Li, whether delivering exposition or performing the Hundred Lightning Kicks. Mel Jarson is surly fun as Cammy, while Peck revels in the fluid fighting style of Vega. Richters, Jammwal, 50 Cent, and Goto all step into their roles well, brandishing confidence, power, and attitude swiftly.

Dastmalchian has arguably the toughest role here, as Raul Julia created a truly iconic movie villain of M. Bison in 1994's live-action Street Fighter. Even people who barely remember that movie remember Julia's impeccably scathing delivery of "It was a Tuesday." Wisely, Dastmalchian takes a different angle to Bison, making him less suave and more of a power-hungry, sadistic weirdo. He sneers out commands to his Dolls, ruthlessly throttles those who fail him, and sniffs things — like the feet of a wounded Ryu or the burning flesh of Chun-Li. He's making weird choices, but they are entertaining.

Bringing laughs to Street Fighter is Schulz as Dan Hibiki, an unpopular character from the games, who's a mouthy sidekick here. Schulz gives spirited silliness in the role, especially when he faces off against Rhodes, who, as Guile, seems to be channeling the homoerotic masculinity that Val Kilmer brought to Top Gun. Rhodes, best known as a pro wrestler, has sharp comedic timing and a fearlessness in playing the fool that's well utilized here.

Jason Momoa, who also produces, brings some signature spunk to Blanka. He's wild and playful in the part, but his performance is marred by some deeply clunky CG that turns the big green brute into an eyesore. Comedian Eric Andre also appears in this movie as garish ring announcer Don Sauvage. And, well, he's certainly in this movie a lot, while loud.

The funniest and most entertaining fighter is Noah Centineo. In montage scenes of Ken's downward spiral into D-list celebrity, Centineo playfully parodies tabloid clichés, such as public meltdowns, embarrassing TV commercials, and publicity stunts gone wrong. But it's when he unexpectedly reunites with Ryu that Centineo's Ken really comes alive. Look, later, in the arena, Ken will show what he's truly capable of. But in this first fight, where Ken is hurt, and Ryu is trying to give space for his big feels without physically injuring him, Centineo masters a style I'll call clown-fu.

The stakes aren't life or death, but they are big, effecting the future o this fractured brotherhood. Slipping in gym socks, misfiring high kicks, all while mugging comically and slinging insults, Centineo is a force of action and comedy. Throughout the film, he's hitting punchlines with the force of hadoken.

While the ensemble as a whole brings a lot of attitude and flavors to Street Fighter, Centineo becomes its heart. Where Ryu hides his feelings under a facade of stoicism, and Chun-Li channels hers into action, Centineo's Ken is practically bursting at the seams with emotion. While the movie leaps from one location and battle to another, sometimes to a dizzying effect, it's Centineo's earnest, stupid, handsome tough guy that pulls it all together.

Still...

The fighting and the funny in Street Fighter could be stronger.

To the credit of its writers, this movie takes the battles to the streets and unexpected locations more than you might expect. Sure, there's a tournament. But Sakurai offers visual diversity by skipping a lot of the bracket battles in favor of off-site brawls at a posh hotel, a cool nightclub, a festering prison, M. Bison's lair, and, of course, some actual streets.

The cast and their stunt doubles throw themselves into the physical demands of the movie, and the fight choreography is carefully woven with familiar special moves that are pretty thrillingly recreated from the games. However, Seng often favors medium or close-ups, and editor Luke Lynch leans on quick cuts. While this makes for kinetic action, it also means the choreography that could wow us in a wide is rarely present. So, while Street Fighter is a blast, its actual fight scenes don't hit as hard as one might hope.

My other beef with this adaptation is that Sakurai doesn't know when to cut a joke. At 120 minutes, Street Fighter begins to drag, in part because of comedy bits that go nowhere. André, who previously worked with Sakurai on The Eric Andre Show and Bad Trip, is the biggest offender here. Dressed in tacky gold lame suits, Don Sauvage's dialogue occasionally drops helpful exposition. But mostly, André delivers lazy jokes or agog reactions that are blandly one-note.

Elsewhere, Saturday Night Live alum Kyle Mooney pops up as an unappealing Interpol employee, who exists solely to moon over Chun-Li. It's easy to imagine Sakurai and Fixman felt this might be a way to spoof fanboys' lusty love of the female fighter. But it's thin, unfunny, and takes up way too much screen time.

As the fighting could use more technical panache and the comedy comes with a few bits too many, Street Fighter may infuriate fans who feel Sakurai isn't taking the franchise seriously enough. However, I had a lot of fun in this goofy-ass video game movie.

It's chaotic. The plot is all over the place, so the themes about honor, power, loyalty, jealousy, and revenge are barely probed. But I won't deny that it gave me the feeling of being a kid again, sitting in the theater, giddy to be surprised by something familiar yet weird.

I suspect the people behind Street Fighter won't appreciate this comparison. But I mean it as a compliment. In a world of video game movies, Street Fighter is way less Super Mario Galaxy The Movie and way more the live-action Super Mario Bros. Movie. Which, yes, was a box office bomb that critics reviled. But where it succeeded was in being a wild watch that had me laughing, cheering, and giddy — even when I was utterly bewildered. Street Fighter is that kind of fun. It scratched the bit of my brain that loved button-mashing these games, and it tickled me to see a video game movie be proudly bonkers.

Street Fighter is now in theaters.

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