"Superbad's" awkward teens, hysterical antics are McLovable

Not long at all into "Superbad," high-school pals Seth and Evan discuss -- in some detail -- their porn preferences. A bit later, Seth describes the penis-drawing compulsion that helped make him an outcast.

This isn't the kind of teen comedy you'd see from Uncle Walt. The hilarious, jaw-droppingly filthy flick is from co-producer Judd Apatow ("The 40-Year-Old Virgin") and co-writer Seth Rogen, his "Knocked Up" star. Directed by Greg Mottola ("The Daytrippers"), it's got Apatow's mix of ultra-crudeness and warmth, and more laughs than both previous films combined. If you liked the raunchy dude conversations in "Virgin," you'll think "Superbad" is the "Lawrence of !@#$ Arabia" of raunchy (adolescent) dude conversations.

What there is of a plot: Tubby motormouth Seth (Jonah Hill, one of Rogen's stoner buddies in "Knocked Up") and palpably shy Evan (Michael Cera from TV's "Arrested Development") are high-school seniors about to go their separate ways to different colleges. Astonishingly, they're invited to a big party by hot girls way out of their league. Their task: bring the booze.

Desperate, with the success of the entire party -- not to mention their chances of scoring -- in the balance, they turn to someone who's nearly too much of a geek for them: Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), a skinny, four-eyed, monumentally awkward dork in possession of two things: inexplicable self-confidence and a fake ID. The single name on the card identifies him as a 25-year-old organ donor from Hawaii: "McLovin." It's funny every single one of the numerous times anyone in the movie says it.

And they're off. Most of the film follows Seth and Evan's mishap-filled odyssey to procure liquor, and McLovin's -- I mean Fogell's -- off-the-rails night with two cops (Rogen and Bill Hader).

Though none of the three boys are stars -- yet -- they're perfectly cast and gut-busting. Hill's manic, trash-talking performance conveys a core of self-loathing. Cera balances him with a mixture of conscience and timidity. In a tear-inducing funny scene, intimidating guys at another party mistake him for a singer and won't let him out of a room until he performs a song.

But it's Mintz-Plasse who walks away with the show. He is destined to be a cult icon, and I expect to see his contorted face on T-shirts emblazoned with "McLovin." His every whimper or gesture of bravado is so funny that the mere sight of him creates a Pavlovian response well before the movie's over.

The Id-emptying raunchiness of the dialogue and some of the gags would stop a longshoreman in his tracks. And although it all rings truer to experience than most teen comedies (with the exception of "Dazed and Confused"), I'd report an adult to CPS for bringing a younger teen.

Like other Apatow flicks, this one runs too long by half an hour. By the time the boys finally make it to the party, you'll be spent. And the ending is too pat. But in the name of almighty Mc-

Lovin, you'll laugh so hard along the way that you'll have the kind of embarrassing bodily function they'd describe, but I can't here.

Mark Rahner: 206-464-8259 or mrahner@seattletimes.com