READY PLAYER ONE - Somewhat Buggy Beta

There are few filmmakers - hell, few artists - with such immediate cultural cache as Steven Spielberg. The man is single-handedly responsible for the matinee fever dreams of multiple generations of movie-goers as well as being able to put together Oscar-nominated films on the turn of a time. So the fact that he decided to be the one to adapt Ernest Cline's novel celebrating a whole bunch of the "stuff" that Spielberg was either involved with producing, or more directly responsible for, always seemed like. . . an odd choice.

How do you make a decent film out of a coming of age novel about celebrating your own stuff?

As it turns out, you make the movie all about how empty the pursuit of only "stuff" is in the long run.

If it seems like Ready Player One has been banking a lot of its intended success on giving an audience as many brief "Hey, I know that!" buzzes as possible. . . well, that because there really is a lot of that in the movie. RPO inhabits a 20-years-from-now future where culture and civilization have stagnated and our current obsession with nostalgia and pop culture ephemera has reached something like an event horizon with the virtual world called the Oasis - an always-online game where anyone can be anything. So, of course most people decide to be different versions of things that they remember fondly from their childhood. Luckily, a lot of the placement gags are presented as matter-of-fact world-building rather than pedantic reference-splaining or overly-showy shout-outs (those being reserved for plot-relevant minutiae), which is where the visual medium really works to the story's advantage.

The story centers on geek cypher Wade Watts as he explores the Oasis in order to unearth the secrets of the game's founder, James Halliday, who left the keys to the virtual kingdom (and a lot of money) hidden in cyberspace upon his death. The film is structured as an "idealistic kids vs. evil corporate goons treasure hunt," something like The Da Vinci Code or National Treasure, but instead of the Mona Lisa and the Declaration of Independence, the clues lead to puzzle challenges related to old movies and video games. Spielberg is very much in the same "kid in a candy store" mode here that he leveraged to such success in Jurassic Park, clearly indulging in his own excitement at getting to do extended racing set pieces or haunted house gags that play heavily with video game logic. And while some of the set pieces feel like Spielberg being somewhat distracted in the first half (as though said kid in the candy story can't quite decide what to pounce on next), things really kick in during the second when the "kids on an adventure" business ramps up and he starts intercutting madly between multiple character groups engaging across layers of reality.

Where Ready Player One tips its real hand is when it starts to peel back the meaning of these puzzles and what they say about the creator of the Oasis. Halliday is already a semi-tragic figure when the film opens, with his idealistic creation being ruthlessly sought after by a company that has already successfully "game-ified" debtors prisons and has turned its gaze on the potential digital fields of plunder. But then the film begins to subtly undercut many of the cheaper nostalgia gags that it had leaned on so heavily a moment before. The first challenge is Halliday all but arguing directly with himself about worshiping the past, settling on  the point of "going back" to nostalgia for inspiration being to showcase the design of something, not just to emulate the surface level of it. The second puzzle is all about how a man with the money to buy all the "stuff" he could want fears nothing more than having something - or someone - real to lose (as well as being a biting jab at the occasional necessity of stripping the guts out of a work to adapt a book to the screen). And the final key is hidden behind the statement that real adventure isn't about winning games, but about exploring off the beaten path and finding meaningful connections.

Spielberg could have completely bitten off the hand that fed him with this film, going deeply cynical with the way a nostalgia-focused culture can be poisonous and destructive. There are certainly a few points he underlines, notably that the "hero" characters all create original avatars for the Oasis rather than running around as Master Chief or Batman. And honestly, while a lot of the more problematic aspects of the book have been excised (Spielberg does that to his adaptations like no one's business), there are still some dark corners of online and gaming "cutlure" that this film might have done well to shine a withering light on. The film's use of someone like i-R0k, a charicature of "ultra l33t" gamer bros, is a good step in this direction (though the casting of T.J. Miller brings it sown set of issues), and  maybe could have used some exploration.

But the biggest trump card Spielberg chooses to play in questioning the point of our obsession with "stuff" is to be celebratory of the genuinely passionate audience who makes the "stuff" immortal, specifically the bonds people form that transcend the borders of virtual reality. Not only is the quest impossible for Wade to achieve alone, in spite of his obsessive knowledge of Halliday's life and fandoms, but Halliday almost spells out that there's no point to having all the "stuff" in the world if you don't have anyone to share it with. If this film is going to stick with an audience past the initial "Hey, it's fun to watch all those action figures play together," it's going to be the people who grew up with the internet as a constant companion, and who found genuine friendship - or even love - in a chatroom or on a fan site, and who created something new with those bonds.

And that, at least, is definitely worth celebrating.