Fry cook Frank Darbo’s ( Rainn Wilson) wife Sarah ( Liv Tyler) falls off the wagon and leaves him for a twitchy coke spazz named Jock ( Kevin Bacon is doing acting again) Frank does what he can to get her back but her ass is way too funky with the junk. Frank sobs himself into the couch with his favorite Christian super hero program, and has this nightmare of an epiphany.
Why not piece together a raggedy costume and fuck up evil doers with god damn wrench?
Ellen Page, playing to her, ahem, “strengths”( the beauty of this statement, is that after you see this film you’ll realize that this both a compliment and an insult. Hey muchachos, don’t get us wrong, we’re fully committed to someday raunching Ellen Page up the walls and through the ceiling) and begs Frank/ The Crimson Bolt to be his sidekick with all the charm and subtlety of an arthritic sucking on a lightning bolt.
Fun for the whole family vigilantism ensues, and cue the birthday cake.
At this point it may not surprise you to know that the film has its flaws. The first half hour, doesn’t really have a flow to it, it doesn’t move the way it probably should. Now, given this film as a whole, one could look at this clunkiness as a cleansing of the cinematic palate. The absurdity picks up steam as the film rolls along .At about the point where Ellen’s sidekick character, Bolty, rapes Rainn’s Crimson Bolt, you’ll want to walk away, but you’re not going to be able to.
Super becomes both too serious to be funny, and too funny to be serious. Some real heart is displayed by the time the end credits roll. Any movie that doesn’t give a fuck to the point where it genuinely risks having any sort of audience at all is just aces in our book.
Super does not give one singular fuck.