These days, the videogame is king. From Madden"" to ""Halo,"" gaming franchises are devouring the free time of palm-callused college students faster than Ms. Pac-Man can swallow a stream of yellow dots. These graphically-superlative games demand both masterful hand-eye coordination and intricate strategizing from players to outsmart crafty AI and online opponents. However, as Seth Gordon, director of the documentary ""King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters"" reveals, the true joystick-jostling Jedis of competitive gaming are old-school junkies, practicing their art in the realms of the penny arcade. The result is a combination of entertaining character studies, pixilated suspense and button-pushing social commentary that makes it a candidate for funniest film this year.
Like any classic game, ""King of Kong"" begins with an introduction to its characters. In the ""hero"" corner stands Steve Wiebe, a humble family man whose intense competitiveness has been matched only by his untimely luck and thus, a life of wrenching near-misses. Finding solace in the controlled arcade world, Wiebe becomes obsessed with getting the high score on one of the most popular games ever: ""Donkey Kong.""
From there, the documentary follows Steve Wiebe's quixotic quest as he slides down the warp tube into a land where men are judged not by the fortitude of their souls but by the strength of their life bars. Listening to the ""Rocky"" soundtrack blare as Wiebe turns ""Donkey Kong"" into a science - breaking down barrel patterns and spring rates like John Nash solving advanced algorithms - is blissful mockery.
However, in every game the hero must have a bane, and Wiebe's turns out to be the ""king of the arcade"" and ""Donkey Kong"" record holder himself, Billy Mitchell.
Not since Terrell Owens has vanity reared its head more bluntly on camera than in the case of Mitchell, who steals the film as a cutthroat hot sauce mogul with a hyperbolic hubris usually reserved for cult leaders. Not only is Mitchell's mythical arrogance hilarious, it's even more amazing, since only in real life could a person like this ever been made feasible. Thank goodness he clarifies, at one point, that he ""is not God,"" although his long, brown Jesus hair and matching Christ-ache must have confused the director, who still crucifies his character with every side-splitting interview. A legend among Kong fans, Billy Mitchell is positive proof that in the land of donkeys, an ass can be king.
Although Wiebe manages to break Mitchell's record, he spends much of the film seeking recognition for his achievements against a gauntlet of obstacles set by Mitchell and his worshipping toadies (or ""Froggers"" perhaps) who do everything in their power to discredit Wiebe and his record-breaking score. The plot unfolds into a thrilling battle of one-upsmanship that bounces around like a hyperactive Pong match.
While it's easy to be mesmerized by the titanic characters and suspenseful plot, ""King of Kong"" also highlights America's most abundant resource: our relentlessly competitive spirit.
Despite its short 79-minute runtime, ""King of Kong"" packs more comedy, drama and wit per pixel than anything in theaters today and is guaranteed to be the only movie you'll see this year with a montage of video gamers looped to ""Flight of the Valkeries."" Take a chance, see the movie and ""don't get chumpatized!""
