The Hero in the Mirror

By RICHARD CORLISS

Are we not all dreamy or daft enough to think of ourselves as superheroes in the comic book of our lives? Are we not tickled to think that the world is somehow dependent on our skills and charisma? And do we not come to understand, in the bleak clarity of reality, that some heroes--especially the one staring at us in the bathroom mirror--will never be truly super?

It was the inspiration of comic-book artiste Bob Burden to answer these ornate rhetorical questions. He created, in his Mystery Men stories, "a bizarre hodge-podge crew of second string, blue collar, milltown heroes." Now Burden's words are made flesh in a movie version that, for all its fights and stuff blowing up, dares to deflect action-adventure expectations to pursue off-kilter character comedy.

Each of our heroes has a tiny, not very useful skill. Mr. Furious (Ben Stiller) works himself into a fine rage. The Blue Rajah (Hank Azaria) flings silverware. And the Shoveler (William H. Macy)--as he says, "I shovel well. I shovel very well." While glitzy Captain Amazing (Greg Kinnear) routinely saves Champion City with his bravado and big ego, the Mystery Men must scrounge to find the perils they believe they were born to overcome.

Neil Cuthbert's clever screenplay is a parable of class. The three main Mystery Men may not be much, but when they audition other heroes in preparation for battle against evil genius Casanova Frankenstein (Geoffrey Rush), they discover there are nicely delineated levels of mediocrity. The Waffler, with his magic Truth Syrup, White Flight and the Black Menace ("We work together")--all are unworthy of joining even this pickup team. But there is talent out there. The Bowler (Janeane Garofalo) has a magic ball with her father's head inside; Dad nags her from beyond the grave. Spleen (Paul Reubens) unleashes fart darts, silent but deadly. The Sphinx (Wes Studi) has a profoundly inane aphorism for every tight spot. Invisible Boy (Kel Mitchell) may one day live up to his name. In unity these losers find strength and cool. The unholy three become the Seven Glamourai.

What's cool about Mystery Men is that it is what it's about. Expected to underachieve in a season of teen-boy farces, it triumphs by being its smart, shambling self, though it takes a while to get there. In the opening scene, director Kinka Usher tries to get a Tim Burton flavor of dark comic hipness and blows it; he is flailing even as Mr. Furious does at first. Usher feels his way to the right tempo and tone, and when he finds it he doesn't let go.

He gets seamless ensemble work from the year's most agreeable, most cannily chosen cast. These, after all, are not-quite stars playing not-quite supermen. They grow in the roles as they grow comfortable in them. By the end they have cobbled together an A-minus comedy about B-plus people. Every other action picture is about the impossibly outsize Them; this one is about the just barely heroic Us. It's about making the best of your small talents--about looking in the mirror and, despite all evidence to the contrary, smiling back.

--By Richard Corliss