Super

Rating: ***

James Gunn is a talented man when it comes to combining gross outs and belly laughs, a genre approach that Sam Raimi coined in Evil Dead 2 calling it “splat stick.” One would think that this approach would not bend easily to the superhero genre, which typically shirks blood and guts unless the hero on the marquee is named Punisher or Kick-Ass. But in the case of Super the hero is mentally deranged. What can you expect when the man in the mask is driven to crime-fighting after his wife leaves him for a local drug kingpin and looks suspiciously like The Office’s Dwight Schrute?

Gunn’s fingerprints on Super are apparent. When poor, old, down on his luck Frank (Rainn Wilson) realizes his wife has retuned to her life of drugs and is not coming back without a fight, Frank receives the finger of God. It’s not what you think, but rather a bunch of slimy tentacles that appear from nowhere, slice open his skull cap and pours the light of the universe directly into his brain. But whatever it is that happens to Frank, it inspires him to dress in a crappy, home-made red costume, arm himself with a plumbers’ wrench, and call himself the Crimson Bolt. His tough guy catchphrase: “Shut up, crime!”

But unlike, say, Batman, who thwarts super-villains like The Joker from turning Gotham City into an anarchists’ paradise of crime and debauchery, The Crimson Bolt runs the gamut from child molesters to people that cut in line at the movies. One of the fun bits about the film is that it enjoys the notion that, despite the mask, people still kind of recognize Frank as the Crimson Bolt. Usually the mask, or a secret identity period for that matter, is about suspension of disbelief. There’s none of that here though, odd duck Frank isn’t exactly subtle, and is even less concerned about security.

Speaking of The Joker, Frank’s arch-nemesis is Jacques played by Kevin Bacon. Bacon, of course, has experience playing the heavy in comic book movies, this past summer’s X-Men: First Class being a prime example, but it’s not like he’s required to be the Kingpin of Crime or something. Jacques is actually nothing more than a two-bit, three block dope dealer, but Gunn does a rather good job of making you forget that. In Frank’s world, he’s Lex Luthor. Or Green Goblin. Or Red Skull. Although Jacques isn’t out for world domination in the literal sense, he did take away Frank’s world, his beloved wife Sarah (Liv Tyler).

The other primary ingredient in Super’s recipe for superhero movie subversion is Ellen Page, who comes to be the Crimson Bolt’s sidekick, Bolty, AKA: Libby. First of all, can we reflect on how perfectly absurd it is for a grown woman to call herself Bolty, even in a comic book movie? Second, Page’s character may feel like a uninspired spin on the Hit Girl character from Kick-Ass, as in a profanity-spewing girl in a mask that likes violence, but Gunn’s too sly to straight up steal. Where as Frank has his issues, Libby becomes borderline derange when she learns his secret. Being Bolty becomes a weird form of psycho-sexual release for Libby, and Page, playing both to and against type, enjoys every minute of it.

But despite the startling originality in some aspects of the film, it still relies a bit too much on typical superhero standards. The typical three act structure of origin, training and battle is used, and the climactic scene is a big, winner take all fight between Frank, Bolty and Jacques’s army of not-so sharp shooters. I give Gunn credit enough to make a very compelling product, especially with the budgetary restrictions he worked with, but the film wasn’t grungy enough to sell the premise, and it wasn’t glossy enough to play as a Hollywood product. It should also go without saying that this is a superhero movie not for the easily squeamish.

Still, the originality of the film cannot be denied and the actors all do a great job of investing themselves in the script and selling their roles. With studios still churning out superhero flicks on a regular schedule, I hope more filmmakers follow Gunn’s example and undermine the genre. “Shut up, Crime!” is a rallying call we can all get behind.