I've been waiting for a superhero movie like this for a long time. "Mystery Men" takes its place among the classic comic-strip spoofs on TV like "Batman" and "Captain Nice" and cartoons like "Underdog" and "Super Chicken." The same spirit lives in all of them: the comic tongue-in-cheek tone; the courage to aim for the heroic in life at the risk of looking ridiculous; the not-so-sure-footed way that these characters manage to prevail over their adversaries. It's the misfired spark of nobility igniting in the weak and the ordinary, and it's wonderful to see it glow so high and bright here.
"Mystery Men" opens on a party at a nursing home. I wish Kinka Usher had had the sense to give more energy and life to the old people in the scene. As it is, it looks like something George Romero might have devised. We need to get the feeling that these old people are as sharp as everyone else, or it feels patronizing. By the time the Red Eyes crash the festivities, you half expect Tom Waits who plays a weapons inventor with a penchant for ladies in their eighties to stand up and shout: "Just what this party needs--a little excitement!" If writer Neil Cuthbert had any sense, he would have had Waits mixing it up with the intruders and egging on the partiers to do the same. It would have made for a rousing beginning, and a better introduction of the troublesome trio: the Shoveler (William Macy); the Blue Raja (Hank Azaria); and Mr. Furious (Ben Stiller), who seem to come out of nowhere to save the day.
There are many other problems to "Mystery Men" than I care to go into; among them that the villain Casanova Frankenstein needs to have as cultivated a sense of the absurd as the rest of the people in this movie, and he doesn't. Geoffrey Rush is the wrong actor for the part; he needs to be way over the top to make the conflict between good and evil a galvanic one. And Rush has never exhibited a talent for the outre. You hope for the ripe theatrics of a John Lithgow in "The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai" or the dry, debonair diffidence of a Paul Freeman in "Raiders of the Lost Ark." Instead what we get is pastiche; something half-baked and not fully realized.
There are too many ideas running through "Mystery Men" for anyone to tie them neatly together, and that may be its deepest problem. But whatever kind of a mess it is is the kind of mess I love. Ben Stiller has always seemed to be slumming in the roles he takes. This one is no exception, but he goes at it with such conviction that you come away feeling that he'd learned something about comedy growing up in a household run by Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara. His Roy is related to all the put-upon, overly sensitive, chronically defensive types that Woody Allen made popular. And whether it's wheedling his way into the affections of the waitress at his favorite hangout (the sleek Claire Forslani), or questioning the wisdom of a fellow superhero (Wes Studi as the Sphinx), or giving a new member of their "elite" group (Jeaneane Garofalo in what are possibly her funniest moments on screen) a hard time, he makes it always fun to watch. I couldn't exactly say that about him in "There's Something About Mary."
Jeaneane Garofalo proves with this performance that she should have been the star of "One True Thing," not Renee Zellweger. I don't think I have ever seen funnier exchanges between a daughter and father (okay, so he's dead and his skull is in a bowling ball, so sue me) in the movies. And the funny part about this role is that it feels like a screwball reprise of Emily Watson's spellbinding talks with God in "Breaking the Waves." And in this version, the girl doesn't die, and bells don't ring in your head.
William H. Macy does something very difficult; he makes stolid magnetic. You understand right away what's attracted Jenifer Lewis' Lucille to Eddie. You can also understand her exasperation. The barbecue alone would be enough to drive me over the edge, but when Eddie's adorable, half-breed son looks up at his father and says "I believe in you, Daddy." to which Lucille sighs and exclaims, "Roland, don't encourage your father," you feel like standing and hailing Neil Cuthbert as a first-rate wit.
With Hank Azaria (whose only moment of note in film up to this point was his bare behind in "The Birdcage") and Louise Lasser (Has it been more than two decades since we first took note of her in "Bananas" and "Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman?") as son and mother who share a fondness for silverware; Greg Kinnear as Captain Amazing and Ricky Jay as his publicist; Kel Mitchell as "Invisible Boy"; Paul Reubens as "The Spleen;" and Lena Olin who, if she didn't have the few lines in this movie that she has, would seem to be visiting the set.

'Mojo' is a story of fifties London, a world of budding rock stars, violence and forced homosexuality. 'Mojo' uses a technique for shooting the 1950s often seen in films that stresses the physical differences to our own time but also represents dialogue in a highly exaggerated fashion (owing much to the way that speech was represented in films made in that period); I have no idea if people actually spoke like this outside of the movies, but no films made today and set in contemporary times use such stylised language. It's as if the stilted discourse of 1950s screenwriters serves a common shorthand for a past that seems, in consequence, a very distant country indeed; and therefore stresses the particular, rather than the universal, in the story. 'Mojo' features a strong performance from Ian Hart and annoying ones from Aiden Gillan and Ewan Bremner, the latter still struggling to build a post-'Trainspotting' career; but feels like a period piece, a modern film incomprehensibly structured in an outdated idiom. Rather dull, actually.