We’re not meant to compare apples to oranges, which is usually pretty fair. We can learn nothing from studying them together – Oranges are delicious (when mixed with vanilla), and apples turn GIRLS INTO WHORES. They’re mutually exclusive things, and old people who reaffirm the adage from their porch swings should be respected above the law, and properly awed.

This is your fault, perditious fruit.
Sometimes the adages can be bent to better understand something larger than the singular items being compared. Say, with films. If you compare, say, “Citizen Kane” with “Meet Dave”, it’s easier to see why the inferior film doesn’t work. When the components of film break down, it’s far easier to learn specific things about individual pieces that largely remain subterranean in a good film. If an Oscar-winner is great because of its ability to completely draw you in, then a Razzie-winner is great because it’s lack of ability shines a light on the mechanical and psychological building blocks of film.
“Network (1976)” and “Street Fighter: The Legend Of Chun-Li (2009)” couldn’t be more different. One was nominated for 10 Oscars, winning 4 – including an unprecedented 3 for acting. The other has Chris Klein in it. I’ll leave it to you and Google to figure out the rest.

Hello, Nurse
It may be unfair to compare “Chun-Li” to a dialogue driven classic, because comparing two films is always “unfair” to the inferior piece. I’m going to take a stand and say that it’s actually impossible to be unfair to “Street Fighter” in any way, not because it fails as a great film, rather because it misses even the low-hanging target it was aiming at.
When it was announced the buzz for “Chun-Li” was cautiously optimistic, due to the fact that the original attempt at adapting Capcom’s brawler opus was terribly ill-received. It seems that “Street Fighter: The Legend Of Chun-Li” is so bad that it has achieved the impossible – it’s complete failure has led to a swelling community of “Street Fighter (1994)” apologists. That’s right… “Chun-Li” is so bad it tricks the mind into believing Jean-Claude Van Damme spinkicking Raul Julia qualifies as a film.

Simultaneously the closest Van Damme will ever be to an Oscar, and the farthest Julia has been away.
This is where “Network” comes in. Although “Network” aspired to be a quite different film, it can be held as an example of the correct way to create a movie. “Chun-Li” largely fails because it is unable to make viewers believe in the internal logic of it’s world. It’s a film that clearly doesn’t know what it wants to be. The plot is a Bataan Death March of clichés, each predictable second unfolding in the most lifeless way possible. Chun-Li is essentially an orphan fighting another orphan (because thematic mirrors are art), with a mystical mentor who is taken from her at the most damaging time, eventually teaming up with a dogged foreign agent, who’s been chasing the villain for leads with little success.
“Network” unfolds in a similar way, at least in terms of the predictability of its plot. There are points in “Network” where an aware viewer can easily guess where the film is going next, but the mechanics of the film are fantastic. You can guess where the movie is headed not because it’s clichéd, but because the characters are written so beautifully everyone of their actions make sense. Peter Finch’s character Howard Beale is the most unbelievable when framed in reality, but Finch’s portrayal is committed, and the script is constantly reinforcing his right to exist. By the end of the film, Howard Beale is a modern-day Moses, preaching from his electric mountain. Every second he’s on screen he becomes more of a raw, exposed nerve and every line of Paddy Chayefsky’s script peels more of Beale’s sanity and humanity away. It makes the illogical logical by allowing the script, and the characters in it, to believe it.

Paddy Chayefsky could make you believe this happened.
“Chun-Li” seems to believe that it can be a meaningful film, but there’s not an ounce of talent on screen to back it up. You cold make a fun “Street Fighter” movie easily, with over-the-top fight scenes, witty dialogue, and an emphasis on visuals rather than character and plot. “Chun-Li” tries to make the viewer care about the plot and the characters but there’s nothing there. If Kristen Kreuk’s Chun-Li was an engaging heroine, or Neil McDonough’s Bison a charismatic villain, the lackluster plot would be easily forgiven, but neither really work. Nothing here really works, though, least of all the fighting. The fight scenes are universally tepid, devoid of both imagination and talent. If a fight scene begins, or moves, to an interesting location (such as the wooden jungle gym structure in the climactic battle) it will almost automatically leave, returning to static images of two people standing still, kicking each other.
Magic has a definite place in most films, as far as “magic” is understood to be “things that normally don’t exist.” “Network” uses the idea wonderfully, upping the tension of the script to the point that the film’s final act – seemingly beyond the film’s original scope – occurs as naturally as anything else. It’s a gradual thing. “Network” has a definite message that is achieved by softly moving the viewer from gritty normalcy to Technicolor unreality, all the while concealing the mechanical hand of plot in wonderfully unaffected dialogue.

“Chun-Li” has elements of a magical reality that it never earns, because unrealistic things happen without proper set-up or thematic necessity. Magic is only worth using so far as it underlines a specific notion in the film’s message or premise. The fireball, a “Street Fighter” staple and a necessary evil, is set up with the mechanics of a community college screenwriting class. It appears exactly three times before it’s used in the finale. “The Rule of Three” is the mainstream film equivalent of the literary “Chekov’s Gun” (if a gun is on the table in Act 1, it must go off in Act 3). It’s a rule that exists for a reason, as nothing should happen without proper, filmed cause in a movie. The inverse it that it is easily spotted when abused, and most viewers will view it in condescending way, if only subconsciously. Furthermore, “Chun-Li” has no other magic. This one thing happens, without any one even trying to explain it in a moviescience, only because of a sense of duty to video game fans and the want for a big closing number.

Historical Fact: If this guy saw a gun, an hour later he would use it to shoot you in the fucking face.
“Chun-Li” and “Network” are different films, but they both succeed and fail for the same reasons. “Network” is a film textbook, as powerful as the more widely discerned and accepted “Chinatown”. It’s a mechanical marvel, a checklist of how to make a nearly perfect film. Sure, the plot doesn’t hold many twists or turns for the casual viewer, but nothing happens without a reason, and every scene builds on one another in important ways. “Chun-Li” is like a rock dropping down a well, landing with a resounding thud. Not only is it completely insubstantial, it constantly talks down to the viewer, unable to allow them to interact with the movie. Cynical cash grabs have there place, and can be exceptional films, but they have to commit to being entertainment rather than trying to be serious without any of the talent necessary to make it work.