Review: "Ready Player One"
by Chris Feil
The pairing of godfather of contemporary pop culture Steven Spielberg with a film adaptation of Ernest Cline’s reference heavy Ready Player One sounds like one that would fit like a glove. Cline’s novel has great reverence for the Spielberg canon, not to mention a wide-ranging affection for video games, cinema, and general geekery that is greatly indebted to him as one of our greatest storytellers. The chance for the legend to riff on the likes of John Hughes and Robert Zemeckis already carries a bit of whimsy, an acknowledgement of the type of now omnipresent fan culture that he laid the groundwork for. Don’t forget Spielberg was the original movie nerd, and the opportunity to play with some of his own inspirations like King Kong should naturally allow him to approach the material with necessary affection.
But this perfectly-fit glove turns out to be an inside-out rubber one that’s spent the day scrubbing an ancient multiplex floor, and it’s our hands that end up covered in junk...