"Super" review

One of the best “Super” hero films ever!

With “Guardians of the Galaxy” raking in cosmological cash, no doubt aficionados of this film will seek out the earlier works of writer/director James Gunn.  They will likely be surprised to discover that Gunn only has two previous directing credits to his name, and those two tiny films stand in stark contrast to his recent big budget mega-success.  While “Slither” managed to develop a devoted following on home video, “Super” failed at the box office.  It then quickly vanished into obscurity upon DVD release, a real shame since “Super” is one of the best superhero movies I’ve ever seen.

The frenzied opening animated sequence is a jubilant musical montage, and all the characters are introduced dancing to the power pop of "Calling All Destroyers" by Tsar.  Despite the euphoric atmosphere, the lyrics of the song and the gut-splattered cartoon mayhem allude to the amoral oblivion that awaits. There is a cost to be paid for revenge, and it is painful and lasting.  “Super” has everything a comic book movie for adults should have:  it’s absurd, psychotic, and very dark.  The sexual fetishism of cosplay, the crushing pall of mundanity and succeeding delusions of grandeur are all mixed together into a roiling concoction that is whimsical yet harrowing.  “Super” perfectly balances the childhood fantasy of righteous vengeance against the often tragic repercussions of those actions in the real world.

Frank Darbo is a short-order cook who only has two good memories; his marriage to Sarah, and once showing a cop where to pursue a purse snatcher.  Crayon drawings of these moments hang on Frank’s bedroom wall for daily inspiration.  However, Frank's wife Sarah is a recovering addict, and while Frank has enjoyed their tranquil domestic life, Sarah’s boredom causes her to become seduced and once again hooked on drugs by Jacques, a sleazy strip club owner.  Frank vows to get Sarah back, but gets pummeled for his efforts.  After watching a cheesily sanctimonious TV show on the All-Jesus Network, Frank has a dream.  He sees a mask.  Frank fashions a bright red costume and embarks on a holy crusade against crime.

As the Crimson Bolt, Frank’s attempts to right the wrongs of the world within reach of his brandished crescent wrench quickly devolve into the aberrant rages of a bludgeoning lunatic.  Anyone who butts in line at the theater is clearly an asshole, but do they deserve to have their forehead split open?  Yet this is not the worst impact that Frank’s bone-crunching judgments have.  Libby, a young comic shop employee whom Frank comes to for “research” sees through Frank’s masquerade and she begs to be his sidekick.  Libby’s infatuation with superheroes is soon revealed to be so violent that she doesn’t care who gets hurt or whether they’re guilty.  Even Frank cannot condone Libby’s indiscriminate bloodlust.

Frank tries to dissuade Libby, but when she saves Frank from Jacques’ thugs and treats his wounds, he agrees to be a team again.  Their final assault on Jacques’ country house is an explosive and brutal rampage.  Now armed with guns, knives and pipe bombs, Frank and Libby commit murder after murder.  While all of Jacques’ goons likely have a long rap sheet, the severity of their crimes is moot.  All are mercilessly mown down.  However, our heroes have no super powers, and are just as subject to the finality of bullets.  Frank manages to save Sarah, but not their marriage.  She leaves him and creates a new family.  Frank is left alone again, but at least now he has more than two more good memories on his wall to look at for inspiration:  the crayon drawings from Sarah’s children addressed to Uncle Frank.

What sets “Super” apart from almost all other comic book-style films is its examination of the real devastation wrought from attempting to exact justice according to your own set of rules.  Though Frank was bullied as a kid, in the guise of the Crimson Bolt he becomes someone whose physical assaults far exceed the psychological shame suffered in childhood.  Frank’s brutal path of retaliation results in physical scars that will never fade, and he also incites further suffering by allowing Libby to trick him into beating those who have not done anything wrong.  While “Super” does not have any answers, it percussively and hilariously documents the consequences of taking up arms against a sea of troubles that cannot be plumbed with merely a crescent wrench.

'Guardians of the Galaxy" review

Happiness is a warm Gunn

I have been a BIG fan of writer/director James Gunn from the beginning.  His first film, “Slither”, was a raucously revolting and hilarious horror debut.  With Hollywood’s laser vision greedily focused on tween wallets, it’s rare to find a horror film for adults that’s rated “R” for wicked practical effects instead of a plastic parade of fake pneumatic breasts.  Talk about a horror show!  Yet underneath the filth and slime, there is a love story that hurts because we recognize the compromises that adults sometimes make.

Gunn’s next film, “Super”, was a surprisingly dark and disturbing descent into superhero dementia.  Rainn Wilson plays a man whose dreamland delusions compel him to stitch up a homemade costume and wield a crescent wrench in the name of justice.  However, the cost exacted for this vengeance is heartbreaking, and “Super” reveals a bitter after taste underneath its candy coating.  Despite Crimson Bolt's good intentions, his bloody crusade quickly becomes corrupted by the consequences of his actions.

For more than a decade I was a comic reader and collector, and although I knew of the Guardians of the Galaxy, I’d never read the series.  When the film was announced, what reservations I may have had were banished when I heard that James Gunn was set to write and direct.  That gave me faith.  I had a feeling that Gunn would be able to balance the tween desire for epic action with the adult necessity of real pathos, and I was confident that he could weave these often disparate elements together into one helluva fun ride.  I was right.

As a glib mercenary whose most recent theft has suddenly surrounded him with enemies, Chris Pratt evokes an intergalactic Indian Jones in his hangdog portrayal of a cocky kid just making it up as he goes along.  The character’s charm and lackadaisical attitude keeps the audience grounded, and the sly wink behind every gesture lets us know to not take things too seriously.  While the film begins with family heartbreak, it ends with the joy of a family newly forged.  The journey is breathtaking in its scope, eye-popping in its action and tear-inducing at its emotional core.  And it’s a helluva lot of fun!  Did I mention that?

Of course, much of the screen time is spent introducing characters and storylines that will only come to fruition in succeeding movies, but James Gunn knows this.  He also knows how to make origin stories interesting and exciting even though we’re not quite sure what the kerfuffle is all about.  I have a vague notion of why the Infinity Stones need to be kept away from the bad guys, but beyond that, I'll keep the faith in Marvel's grand plan.  James Gunn knows this plan and is thankfully aware that the audience doesn’t need a long lecture on the history of this galaxy.  That can wait.  For now, let’s just relax and let the kids play.  Grown up time will come soon enough.