Directed by: Seth Gordon
Rating: PG-13

A few weeks ago, a guy I work with gushed to me that the new documentary King of Kong was the greatest movie ever. Not just the greatest documentary, but the greatest film of all time. He was on a quest to convince as many people as possible see it. That wasn’t the first glowing review I’d heard of the little movie, which I finally saw this weekend. King of Kong; A Fistful of Quarters is probably not the greatest movie of all time. But it did elicit at least five cheers and protracted applause. So what is this incredible film about? What is drawing viewers so deeply in? Donkey Kong, of course. Who would have thought that a competition to name the world champion of Donkey Kong would turn out to be one of the great cinematic explorations of good versus evil? King of Kong will have you cheering too, regardless of whether you play video games, or have ever even heard of Donkey Kong.

Twenty-five years ago, when the now classic arcade games—Pacman, Missile Command, Frogger—were at their peak of popularity, a competition was held. Champions would be named on the five most popular video games. The winner of the Donkey Kong competition was a young man with a peach-fuzz mustache named Billy Mitchell. Mitchell’s tired eyes did little to hide his intensity. Mitchell didn’t just beat the other video game all-stars, he destroyed them. And his record stood for over twenty years. In 2004, Steve Wiebe was laid off from his job. It seemed like yet another case of coming up short for a guy of endless talents but no recognition. With time on his hands, Wiebe bought a Donkey Kong game and set it up in his garage. He decided to beat Mitchell’s record.

By then, Mitchell had become something of a legend. Twin Galaxies, formed by self-appointed video game referee Walter Day, is the official scorekeeper of all classic arcade game records. Mitchell was Day’s first and biggest celebrity. Thanks to his own ceaseless self-promotion, and Day’s near-blind devotion, Mitchell’s legend grew.

In the cutthroat world of competitive gaming, Wiebe has no idea what he is getting into. The events that follow promise to be a David and Goliath story, except in this case Goliath does a lot of talking and very little acting. The characters that populate this tale turn it into something positively Dickensian. The sweet pushover Wiebe and the Machiavellian Mitchell form perfect extremes. Day, official scorekeeper and aspiring folk singer, is the unlikely arbiter of their battle. Mitchell’s friends seem more like dazed acolytes, while Wiebe’s friends simply wish something positive would happen to the guy. Director Seth Gordon has fashioned footage of talking heads and video screens into a Rocky-sized thriller. Sure, he plays pretty fast and loose with his footage to get the most impact, but this story really plays out across the faces of the characters as much when they’re not talking as when they are. It’s most similar comparison is 2002’s Spellbound, the last movie I saw in which people responded so vocally in the theater. In our auditorium this weekend, it was clear that many of the people there were repeat viewers, who had giddily lured others to their little discovery.

It’s that kind of movie. I am not a player of video games. I did play Donkey Kong plenty of times before I turned 15, but certainly never obsessed over it (Galaga, now that was a great game). No interest in or knowledge of video games is required in order to enjoy this movie. Each documentary must choose its point of view carefully. The best character studies are usually the ones that remain objective, allowing their subjects to define themselves. Gordon most definitely picks sides, and while it’s hard to blame him, there’s also the nagging feeling that he has seriously stacked the deck. Then again, that may simply be the power of Mitchell talking. As he himself points out, everything he says is controversial. King of Kong sets us up for a classic final showdown, then leads us down a more illuminating path. Wiebe is a guy almost anyone can relate to, and under Gordon’s microscope he proves himself to be a truly decent person. Mitchell never does anything truly cruel in this story, yet he may be a villain for the ages.

Alex Manugian lives in Sherman Oaks, California, and works for the Cartoon Network. He grew up in Groton and has reviewed movies for Harvard residents for many years.