August 17th. Don’t wait. Don’t let its lack of stars or the overall, sort of crummy teen comedy vibe deter you. It’s easily the best film of the summer and the funniest film I’ve seen since Borat.
If my critical muscles hadn’t atrophied long ago I’d be going into more detail as to why it’s one of the most perceptive, awesomely lewd looks at adolescence, friendship, getting fucked, growing up, male behavior and accepting change I've ever seen (rare is the film that borrows elements of and improves upon titles as diverse as 25th Hour, Can't Hardly Wait, and Saturday Night Fever) but these days I’m really only good for a soundbyte. Especially if I LOVE a film as I clearly do this one. I’ve been meaning to write something about how great Ratatouille is for months now and you see how that’s gone (incidentally this is why I’ve never actually been able to write one of those all-encompassing, year-end wrap-up pieces either… just too much gushing. It’s tedium to write I tell ya).
Where was I? Oh yeah, Superbad is pretty much the Citizen Kane of dick joke movies. Easily the comedic equal of Knocked Up without any of that disingenuous moralizing or neo-conservative navel gazing/flabby slacker wish-fullfilment. It’s 100 minutes of movie with an average of one well-earned laugh per minute. I will be paying to see it on its release just to pick up all the gags I missed through the laughter.
But don’t take my word for it. I give you, the “Dick Montage:”