Street Fighter (1994) – Film Review
The Wild Misfire We Can’t Stop Watching
When you sit down to watch Street Fighter, you have to make a choice pretty early on: either try to understand what’s happening and why it looks the way it does, or let go of that entirely and enjoy the chaotic energy that comes from a big-budget movie trying to adapt a video game with nothing but confidence, a stacked cast of mismatched actors, and no real plan beyond pure spectacle. Somehow, Street Fighter is both a glorious mess and a strangely endearing relic of ‘90s pop culture — the kind of movie where almost nothing works the way it’s supposed to, but a few things stand out because of how committed they are to the wrong direction.
Based on the wildly popular Street Fighter II arcade game, this adaptation was supposed to cash in on a built-in fanbase and launch what could have easily been a new action franchise. Instead, it landed somewhere between parody and missed opportunity, stumbling through tonal shifts, awkward dialogue, and a wildly miscast group of actors. The idea was sound in theory: take one of the most recognizable fighting games in the world, fill a film with colorful characters and fast-paced martial arts, and put a global superstar front and center to anchor the whole thing. But instead of choosing an Asian martial artist like Ryu or Ken to lead the story, the film made the baffling decision to put Guile — an American military commando with a blond flattop and a deep love for justice — at the center of the plot, and then cast Jean-Claude Van Damme, a Belgian with an unmistakable French accent, in the role.
Van Damme tries his best, which is something no one should take away from him, but it’s almost surreal watching him walk around in camo gear, delivering supposedly patriotic speeches in thickly accented English, waving the American flag, and yelling about liberty while sounding like he just got off a red-eye from Brussels. There are moments where it almost seems like the movie is in on the joke — like when he calls M. Bison a “son of a b****” with his signature grimace and clenched jaw — but that would be giving the script more credit than it deserves. His performance floats between completely wooden and unintentionally hilarious, which, in this movie, kind of works because nothing else feels rooted in reality either.
Still, even with all the weird casting decisions, there’s one performance that shines — and it happens to be the one that’s most out of place. Raul Julia, known for serious theater work and iconic roles like Gomez Addams, gives his final film performance here as M. Bison, the warlord dictator with a floating command center and a wardrobe straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon. Julia was dying of stomach cancer during production, which makes his performance even more fascinating, because he throws himself into the role with a level of commitment that’s hard to explain. He hams it up in every possible way — the posture, the glances, the operatic line delivery — and he manages to make Bison the most memorable character in the movie. It’s not just that he’s chewing scenery, it’s that he’s doing it with total control. He knew the material was beneath him, but he also knew how to make it fun.
One of the most famous lines in the film — and maybe in ‘90s action movie history — comes when Chun-Li accuses Bison of destroying her village. His response? He calmly says, “For you, the day Bison graced your village was the most important day of your life. But for me… it was Tuesday.” That delivery, that tone, the timing — it’s theatrical in the best way, and it turns what should’ve been a throwaway villain monologue into something quotable, absurd, and brilliant. Raul Julia elevates every scene he’s in, even when the script works against him, even when the film itself feels like it doesn’t deserve him.
Behind the scenes, the production was just as chaotic as what wound up on screen. The film was written and directed by Steven E. de Souza, who had previously penned Die Hard and Commando. He had experience writing action, but he had never directed before, and Street Fighter was supposed to be his debut behind the camera. Capcom, the game’s publisher, was heavily involved and pushed for the film to include as many recognizable characters from the game as possible. That meant squeezing in names like Blanka, Dhalsim, Vega, Sagat, Zangief, Balrog, and Cammy, even if they didn’t have time or space to develop into actual characters.
The result is a crowded film where almost no one gets enough screen time, and the tone swings wildly depending on who’s in the scene. Kylie Minogue, the Australian pop star, plays Cammy — Guile’s second-in-command — and while she looks the part, she’s given nothing to do. Ming-Na Wen, later known for her strong work in Mulan and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., plays Chun-Li with flashes of presence, but her character feels underwritten, and her scenes with Balrog and Honda feel like they belong to a different movie altogether. Ryu and Ken are reimagined as con men instead of martial arts warriors. Sagat runs an underground arms operation. Dhalsim is a scientist. Blanka is a mutated human test subject, created in a lab as part of some twisted super soldier experiment. The whole thing reads like a fever dream written by someone who skimmed through the game’s instruction manual while on a tight deadline.
The production had major issues with time, budget, and even weather. Filming took place in Thailand and Australia, but heavy monsoons delayed shooting schedules. Jean-Claude Van Damme reportedly had his own problems — showing up late to set, struggling with the physical demands of the role, and allegedly dealing with drug-related issues during production. Still, the film was rushed to meet a December 1994 release date in order to hit the holiday season, and it was released just before Mortal Kombat went into production — a film that would take a more serious approach to adapting a fighting game.
Street Fighter wasn’t a total failure at the box office. The film grossed around $100 million worldwide on a $35 million budget, which technically made it a success, even though it received mixed-to-poor reviews from critics. Fans of the game were confused by the story and character choices, while general audiences were probably thrown off by the uneven tone. It wasn’t really a martial arts film, and it wasn’t really a military action movie either — it landed somewhere between comedy and camp without fully committing to either.
Over time, Street Fighter gained a cult following. It’s remembered not for what it tried to do, but for what it accidentally became — a chaotic, overstuffed movie that fails at being a good adaptation but succeeds at being memorable in all the wrong ways. It exists in that rare category of films that are too sincere to be mocked entirely, but too flawed to be taken seriously. Watching it now feels less like revisiting a failed movie and more like visiting an alternate universe where movie logic took the day off.
Raul Julia’s performance gives the film its strange beating heart. His death before the film’s release cast a shadow over the whole thing, and the end credits even include a tribute to him. He took on the role to impress his children, who were fans of the game, and in doing so, he left behind a performance that, while far from his most prestigious, is one of his most unforgettable.
There’s a lot wrong with Street Fighter, from miscasting to strange tonal shifts, to a plot that doesn’t even try to reflect the core of the game it’s based on. But there’s also something weirdly charming about how fully it commits to its bad decisions. The film doesn’t wink at the audience. It doesn’t try to be ironic. It honestly believes it’s telling a gripping story of good versus evil, with a dozen subplots and at least five different tones working at once. And that’s kind of beautiful in its own strange way.
If you go in expecting a faithful adaptation of the game, you’re going to be confused or disappointed. But if you go in knowing you’re about to watch one of the weirdest big-budget action movies of the ‘90s — one that treats a video game plot like a global military thriller, one that asks you to believe Jean-Claude Van Damme is the ultimate American soldier, and one that lets Raul Julia deliver Shakespearean gravitas while dressed like a fascist general from a Saturday morning cartoon — then you’re going to have a good time.
