By Amy Nicholson
By LA Weekly critics
By Zachary Pincus-Roth
By Amy Nicholson
By Amy Nicholson
By Amanda Lewis
By Amy Nicholson
By Anthony D'Alessandro
The latest comic meteorite to hurtle forth from the galaxy of producer Judd Apatow, Superbadimagines the teenage equivalent of being a career AAA ballplayer and suddenly getting called up to the big show. That is, it’s about a couple of chronically unpopular best friends who, after four years stuck on the lowest rung of the high school social ladder, are invited to a legitimately cool party: Goodbye Friday nights spent chugging Old Milwaukees in their parents’ furnished basements; hello getting shitfaced in the company of a few dozen of their not-particularly-close friends. More importantly, after a long independent study in Internet porn, they may be about to put their virtual carnal knowledge to practical use. Provided, that is, they can actually get to the party.
Yes, Superbadis about one of thosenights — where you finally have a chance to prove that you’re not as big of a dork as everyone thinks, only to be chased by the cops, hit by a car (twice), nearly pulverized by the dude whose girlfriend’s menstrual blood somehow ends up on your pant leg, drunkenly embarrass yourself in front of the one girl you have real feelings for, and wake up the next morning wondering if it was all a dream. You know, one of thosenights. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. For starters: Superbadwas written by Knocked Upstar Seth Rogen and co-writer Evan Goldberg, who cooked up the first draft of the script when they were in high school, which helps to explain why the movie feels so knowing in every one of its clumsily averted hormonal glances and its frank discussions of things like the best way to camouflage an erection. Rogen and Goldberg even named the lead characters after themselves, though a few drafts later they are equally recognizable as specimens bred in the Apatow gene pool — the sort of kids you knew in high school, or maybe were yourself, who seem a touch young for their age, who are more book smart than street smart, and who live in abject terror at the thought of going off to college with their virginity intact.
More geek than freak, chubby, motor-mouthed Seth (Jonah Hill) perpetually brings up the rear in gym class and gets spat on by the resident senior-class bully, while gangly, soft-spoken Evan (Michael Cera) — who can run like the wind but doesn’t really getthe point of things like sports — stands dutifully at his side, an introspective Sancho to his brash Quixote. True to form, they pine for girls who seem out of their respective leagues: Evan for nice-girl Becca (Matha MacIsaac), whose obvious flirtations he cluelessly rebuffs, and Seth for the comely Jules (Emma Stone). Then the act of divine intervention occurs that pairs Seth and Jules in a home-economics project and results in the popular girl inviting the dork (and his dork friend) to her graduation party. But as mentioned, getting to that hallowed place proves easier said than done. In fact, it turns into something like the Lord of the Ringsof adolescent nookie movies — a calamitous, hazard-filled journey toward the fiery gates of Mount Poon.
At 19 and 23 respectively, Cera and Hill have the fully developed comic timing of seasoned pros — Bob Hope and Bing Crosby in sneakers and cargo shorts. Yet Superbadis routinely stolen right out from under them by an 18-year-old newcomer, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, who was plucked from MySpace obscurity to play the unapologetically dweeby third wheel, Fogell, and who inhabits the role with such unbridled comic brio that the character — and his fake-ID alias, McLovin — is already on the fast track to movie-comedy immortality. Following a hilarious attempt by our intrepid trio to buy booze using said ID, Superbadeffectively splits along two parallel tracks, as Seth and Evan navigate their own circuitous route to Jules’ house, while Fogell/McLovin winds up getting an unexpected lift from two police officers (played by Rogen and Saturday Night Live’s Bill Hader) who make the Keystone Kops look like paragons of law and order.
Directed by Greg Mottola (an alumnus, like Hill, of Apatow’s short-lived TV series Undeclared), Superbadis duly ribald and often achingly funny, brewed from the now-familiar Apatow house blend of go-for-broke slapstick and instantly quotable, potty-mouthed dialogue. (“I’m so jealous you got to suck on those tits when you were a baby,” a wistful Seth tells Evan after an encounter with his friend’s amply bosomed mother.) But what sets Superbad far apart from the American Pieseries — indeed, what earns it a place alongside American Graffiti, Fast Times at Ridgemont Highand Dazed and Confusedin the pantheon of evergreen high school movies — is its sweet, soulful vulnerability, particularly as it becomes clear that the only thing Seth and Evan feel more anxious about than losing their virginity is the thought of losing each other, in the fall, when they head off to separate colleges. That naughty-but-nice approach might seem something of an Apatow cliché by now, if it didn't ring so true. Make no mistake: Superbadis a movie about partying and getting wasted and getting the girl, but as the night wears on, much wisdom is gained too, about self, friendship and the end of teenage innocence in all its wondrous, terrifying splendor.?
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