“Super” is not an adjective I would use to describe this movie in any capacity. It appears to have come from the Black Swan (2010) school of film making. This particular genre is much like a football fourth down that entails an ambitious long pass that results in an artlessly dropped ball, and ends in an amassed pile of bodies. Like the Black Swan, Super was the steady digression of a reasonable plot that ran out of ideas and turned to raw violence and sheer depravity as a second and third act respectively. Did I mention this was a partially animated comedy? The emergency parachute for these free falling films appears to be activated by the slasher ripcord. When in doubt of a safe landing employ butchery and debauchery – forms of entertainment that require no legitimate justification providing their depiction provides a new height of heinous human degradation and destruction.
What I find most disturbing about this descent-into-hell cinematography is how dishonest it is. It is the classic bait-and-switch sales technique. The seller advertises one product and then turns the customer to another, usually a higher priced item. Black Swan was a ballet picture. At the time of its release I wondered how many little girls in their pale pink tights with their pulled back hair and ballet bags would be exposed to that grim story of graphic sexuality, mental illness, and gruesome murder? (It was rated “R – Restricted. Under 17 requires the accompanying of parent or adult.”) (On the other hand, a cautionary tale about the professional ballet world might not have been such a bad idea.) Super played the same trick. It is billed as a comedy using illustrated comic book figures. What boy would not like to see a picture about a loser who becomes a action superhero turn vigilante serial killer? Sounds something like the old Superman to me (hence the title), but this is not the dashing George Reeves-, Christopher Reeve-leading man we have come to expect, but character actor Rainn Wilson.
Rainn Wilson is a great supporting actor. His performances as the daffy but earnest “Arthur” in the brilliant television series Six-Feet Under (2001), and as the obsequious but scheming “Dwight” in The Office, (2005) have established him as an identifiable “type.” (One has to be a type to be named “Dwight,” after all.) He makes a poignant jerk – someone you love to hate and enjoy feeling superior to. I could see Rainn finding a happy home in old Hollywood in such film noir classics as The Maltese Falcon (1941) or The Killers (1946) – a neurotic sinister heavy in a an overcoat, fedora, and dangling cigarette with an inch of ash ready to drop. There is a wonderful pathos to the edgy rigid characters he portrays. The prayer scene is this movie was most pathetic.
The part of Frank D’Arbo who becomes superhero The Crimson Bolt was a perfect vehicle for Wilson’s extraordinary range of emotion. It is unfortunate that his performance was not enough to save this picture or the performance of his partner in crime “Libby” aka “Boltie” (Ellen Page), who reminded me of a particularly annoying consort of Dr. Who. (“You’re not going to leave me, Dr. Who? No!!!!) I couldn’t decide whether she was a bad actress or if her character was so insipid there was nothing that could have been done with the part to make the girl credible or even likeable. Despite my reservations about the performance, I thought her demise was gratuitous and unspeakable. I think the devil in this production was in the concentration of power. The film was written and directed by actor James Gunn, who also appeared (convincingly) as the devil. At some point, a director must tell the writer, “this isn’t working,” and this film did not work on many levels. It was the pastiche of genres lacking a single meaningful message that ultimately lead to the sinking of this ship of fools. Comedy and brutality are not escape hatches for a pointless storyline. The epilogue itself was a travesty of failed irony. Saying, in effect, “I didn’t mean it” is no way to end a picture. Super was a rocky raft with the feel of an after-school project. No matter what cinematic devices were deployed to keep it afloat it was never meant to sail.
P.S. Did I mention Kevin Bacon was fabulous as Jacques, the wife-stealing drug dealer? (Actors, I am told, draw upon their own personal experiences for inspiration.) He was utterly convincing and perfectly repulsive. As a supporting actor, he was fortunately spared from appearing in some of the more humiliating and frankly embarrassing scenes forced upon Wilson. Although, I have to admit I did burst out laughing at his gruesome demise at the hands of The Crimson Bolt, as I suspect the actors did during the filming.
Here’s the trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctcURFb7XE4&feature=related
From the vault: The Maltese Falcon (1941), directed by John Huston; written by Dashiell Hammitt; staring Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, Peter Lorre, and Sydney Greenstreet. People rave about Casablanca (1942), I know I do. But, I prefer the Falcon. The plot is practically incomprehensible, but who cares? The whole movie is an acting class. Foolish Geraldine Fitzgerald turned down the female lead because she did not want to work with an unknown director. Mary Astor knew a good part when she saw one and tore it up. (Can’t you just see Rainn Wilson as Elijah Cooke, Jr.’s Wilmer? "Wilmer!")
Best of luck in your movie selections. Your faithful friend,
Dwight Dekeyser
© Dwight Dekeyser, Esq. All rights reserved.
