This movie was designed for the truly sick out there in the audience, the ones who are totally cool with an uncomfortably pre-teen looking female protagonist sexually assaulting a short order cook and then having half her face blown off by the karmic revenge cycle that governs all gore movies.
I almost don't know what to say. I went into "Super" thinking that this would be another mild-manner loser-turned-superhero flick starring the weird guy from "The Office" and the slutty chick from "Juno." Turns out it was actually a near-snuff movie where Kevin Bacon plays a misguided drug kingpin bent on whoring out Liv Tyler and selling as much China White as he can get his hands on before vigilante justice finds the back of his head with a bullet. Or a pipe wrench, in this case.
Let me be clear: this movie was designed for the truly sick out there in the audience, the ones who are totally cool with an uncomfortably pre-teen looking female protagonist sexually assaulting a short order cook and then having half her face blown off by the karmic revenge cycle that governs all gore movies. It's also perfect for anyone who prefers their own homemade weapons to the more civilized death-dealing devices offered by Smith and Wesson or Glock. In short, this movie was intended solely for a New Hampshire or Alabaman audience.
But even more than that, "Super" is a perfect example of cronyism gone wrong. Its director, James Gunn, relied on the fact that his ex-wife is the sorta-hot secretary in "The Office" when it came time to convince Rainn Wilson to take his one-note performance to the big screen and really bring his misogynistic script to life. Why he didn't target the much more dynamic Steve Carell I'll never understand. Oh wait, I completely understand – it's because Carell has a "will never be raped by a teenager" clause in all of his contracts.
This is why it pays to have a good agent, folks. I can forgive Juno-lady for being led astray by Mr. Gunn's promises of fame and fortune, but Wilson really should have known better. And what the fuck is up with Michael Rooker? I'd hate to see the rider on any of his contracts – I'm sure it would list items like a bed of nails, a sand paper sleep mask and a side of beef to beat on in between takes. And you thought John Cho's trailer had a weird smell.
"Super" is not "Ghost World," and it certainly isn't "Kickass." It's sort of like "Blue Velvet" and "Ed Wood" had a baby, and then smothered that baby and left it on a park bench all winter. And then used it to scam Social Security. Yeah, I don't know how that works either.
To spread the word about this Super review on Twitter.To get instant updates of Mr. Cranky reviews, subscribe to our RSS feed.