"Scott Pilgrim", review of the six volumes

Self-portrait of the author, Bryan Lee O’Malley

Bryan Lee O'Malley has a hardened ass for sitting in front of the game console next to Italian plumbers and blue echidnae, he's a keen manga comic devouring guy and he's passionate about music. With such a fine cultural rehash he gave birth to Scott Pilgrim, or the romantic deeds of a Canadian in his twenties whose universe is governed by the laws of video game.

The proposal cold like that sounds as productive as building a cathedral out of pillows, but O'Malley is a man who came from publishing an introspective graphic novel (Lost at sea) about an asocial girl who is convinced that her cat stole her soul.

This guy would be capable of turning Pacman into the inner monologue of an Asian who, by treating himself, faces the ghosts of the past.

And with Scott Pilgrim he gets something special.

The work presents forms of manga (black and white, pocket-size form, simple dynamic lines), it possesses slice of life spirit, it plays self-reference (the characters talk about events happened in time by quoting the volume during which they happen) and it has an aftertaste of mature pixel.

A homage to those who cultivated little thorns during the 80s and 90s, Scott is the reflection of a generation that's been the closest to a conflict during a quarrel in a bar or on disc 3 when quarreling Sefirot.

Fun, cock-and-bull stories, concerts, video games... nostalgia to the rhythm of guitars in 8 and 16 bits.

Scott's feat is epic, he's a hero of his time: a slacker, shameless, a scrounger, a person who cries if his roommate deletes his game on Final fantasy II, a guy who wants to win the girl of his (literally) dreams over and he does the beat 'em up way.

In any other time, in any other context, it wouldn't make sense.

Scott Pilgrim's precious little life.

Scott Pilgrim is 23 years old, he lives in Toronto, he plays bass guitar in a group called Sex Bob-omb with his friends (Stephen Stills and Kim Pime), he burns hours clinging to the game console, he's dating an Asian who goes to his high school (Knives Chau), he sleeps with his gay roommate (Wallace Wells) because they only have one mattress at home and an Amazon deliverywoman that he's obsessed with has sneaked in his dreams.

Scott doesn't know what he wants: to keep the comfortable platonic relationship with the Chinese teenager or to win Ramona Flowers over, a mysterious ninja skater who uses the hero's head as a delivery shortcut at nights.

This first contact with Scott's world takes little to fool around with the fantastic genre through doors that lead to subspace hitchhikers or a rock band with a theme song in their repertoire that leaves the public in a coma, but in their essence they keep deeply costumbrist bearings, focusing the attention on the relationships in Scott's little group of friends (where Wallace Wells, the gay buddy, stands out stylishly sharply) and giving an impression that the story gets along with elegant comic forms of everyday tone. But only until the reader's testicles are invited to meet the ground when, during the last third of the book, someone gets in by blowing up the roof, challenges Scott a duel to death, invokes an entourage of winged hipster devils and the thing rambles on a choreographed Street Fighter.

The truth is disclosed: if Scott wants to go out with Ramona first he'll have to defeat her seven evil ex-boyfriends.

Scott's life has an end, bosses.

Scott's life has a video game's rules, the reader has just noticed. He was slipped it, all the way to the bottom and with malice. Bryan Lee O'Malley roars resoundingly with laughter.

The drawing isn't very finalized but the proposal hooks. The final nonsense unsettled critics that didn't know which hand to grasp the ensemble with and encouraged the medium reader. Even so, this first volume isn't the top work of art that four fanboys with their panties in their hands proclaim, but it does look a splendid beginning for the series.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the world.

The bases set in the first delivery, the second one affords rave since the start: it begins by recalling the Pleistocene of game consoles and it continues with a flashback of pure Final Fight in Scott's childhood.

The plot rummages in the past and the relationships of the supporting characters more in-depth and with certain understanding, but at the same time it makes clear at the top of its lungs that anyone in this work can start taking impossible jumps, kindly toughen their lower back based on blows 卧虎藏龙 style or quote Guybrush Threepwood.

Scott now has pending ventures to face: deal with his relationship with Knives, eliminate Ramona's second evil ex-boyfriend, Lucas Lee (real famous movie star sold out to the highest bidder and formerly a skater) and survive to the reunion with a super rock star ex-girlfriend (great telephonic conversation and its comatose effects).

And O'Malley's scrotal sac is exclusively composed of mithril because he closes the volume with a major cliffhanger.

Notable is the knack to combine the sensitive part and the bits of everyday life (like that recipe of communal vegetarian turnover) with the hallmark off-the-hooks. More ability, skill and wise moves are seen in the composition of pages and the rhythm, with an author who starts getting the point of narrative and he manages not to disappoint if you enjoyed the first one.

Scott Pilgrim and the infinite sadness.

Besides having the most awesome ever title, this issue supposes the biggest rave of the saga. O'Malley cuts loose by covering the return of Envy (cover of the issue and Scott's lethal ex-girlfriend) with everything that comes to his mind: girls who play drums with a bionic arm, some department stores with such exquisite offers that putting a foot inside may mean to die, points to save the game, bands that play without any instruments by manipulating sound waves ("through effort and goodwill" [sic]), rewards in the shape of extra lives, and a new evil ex-boyfriend: Todd; a moronic rock star that, thanks to a vegan diet, possesses mental superpowers and casual hair Son Goku Super Saiyan style.

The remix of rhythms come out well: the main character doesn't only physically quarrel an enemy, but psychologically the trauma of the reencounter with his ex-girlfriend. The author appears to have learned to finally draw and he creates the most perfect volume, 'cause it's sassily crazy, of the series. He even scores shamelessly an impossible deus ex machina to wrap the fight with Todd up and we don't care because we're having great fun.

As a detail some extra pages with reinterpretations of the characters by other artists and a really brief musical note are included (anecdotal: some mere lines in a box) by way of possible soundtrack of the main characters.

Scott Pilgrim gets it together.

After the overloading of paranoias from the previous issue, here the tone relatively relaxes. The first surprise of the issue consists in coming across a very nice beach but excessively brief prologue in full color.

The story gets a friend of Scott's past back and takes calmer ways by exploring the interpersonal relationships. Now, it starts bugging that the characters are drawn in such a similar way (the female ones share fashion designing in eyes and the shape of their face which, added to the absence of color, makes Kim, Ramona, and Lisa —new arrival— be different in the fact that the first one has four freckles, the second one some aviator glasses on her hair and the third one double eyelashes). In addition there is a gender surprise in Ramona's new ex.

But after the epic of Volume 3, this fascicle's not enough. It's less balanced and the excesses go secondly. Yeah, we've got swords, pastries implied in more than a female subject, a character that when exploding frees kittens and little birds such as a villain from Robotnik; subspaces via a starry door and a mysterious Chinese man who goes around cutting buses with his katana as someone that slices chopped meats for a snack, but the story would rather focus on the most important achievements: to get a job (which awards experience bonus), to deal with Ramona's jealousy and to talk to the landlord of the apartment.

The pure pixel art back cover (a Miguel Sternberg's work) is real thoughtful and the instructions of the (next-to)-last page about the direction to read the comic in are an amusing gibe to the mangas sluggishly edited, but the book is the slackest in the ensemble.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the universe

The esthetic reverence is funny: if second volume included as a presentation in the shape of a logo a tribute to PC Kid, and the fourth one a genuflexion to Sonic, the fifth one has the courtesy of starting up with the sassy homage to Double Dragon.

Scott's life is changing, he turns 24 years old, his group has problems, the relationship with his girlfriend is getting complicated (and the habit to shine in a little compatible way with logic that Ramona's head has looks weird to everyone), he moves to another apartment to live alone and, if that were not enough, he's got a double portion of ex to beat in this issue: two Japanese twins who, honoring their national traditions, persist in sending robot enforcers against the hero. Scott kicks the lock in a background of fabulous alcoholic mellownesses based on tequila, themed parties to attend dressed up and some character locked up in a cage waiting to be rescued by the hero.

This vs. the universe is read quickly (probably thanks to less quantity of dialog and more dynamic cartoons than in previous issues) and rises up around volume 4, but it makes clear that the third one will go down in history as the most inspired one.

A bitter ending and a new awesome cliffhanger leaving a fan higher than Charlie Sheen celebrating New Year's Eve in Medellín.

As a reward, a little making-off on the final pages. And a special mention to the screen shots (created by Ben Bernsten) Nintendo game style that beautify the back cover (with subspace glitches included!).

Scott Pilgrim's finest hour

Final stage.

There are few things more bothersome than a smart-ass hipster.

Scott has been feeling like filing one of them's nose bridge something like five books: Gideon is Ramona's last mysterious ex, a winning smarty-pants with plasticene frame glasses.

In the last issue we find a beat sunken alone hero searching for himself and posing sex to every female who was important in his life till he gathers enough courage to face his fears (which acquire the shape of NegaScott: a dark huge version of himself that had briefly appeared in previous issues) and he heads toward the definitive battle against Gideon, a total final boss who has been fucking over in the shadow during all the series and (as every diabolical being that's appreciated) has set a bar for modern guys.

Final chapter with more pages than usual for the occasion; summit of the esthetic design of the series and centered on a battle in the bad guy's den that, on surrendering to the presumed epic moment taking most of the book, becomes excessively long and make the digestion of the volume drowsy.

It closes up with an agreeable epilogue that relocates the supporting characters in their place and it provides them with a future, including an unexpected (and little insinuated) coming out of the closet.

Last and definitive issue, slightly disappointing for those who expect a more inspired impression outcome, but a more than correct and, deep down, worthy closing for a notable series.

Game over.

Bonus stage!

Free Scott Pilgrim

On the official webpage of the series, Bryan Lee O'Malley was so kind as to share a little short story of 17 pages that happens between Volume 3 and 4 with Scott and company on their way to the movies to watch Brokeback Mountain. Other brief unpublished (pretty anecdotal) cartoons without much weight but that's used as a curiosity for a fan are included, too.