Mr. Furious (Ben Stiller), the Shoveler (William H. Macy), the Blue Raja (Hank Azaria), and other assorted and dubiously-powered men and women labor as the superhero underclass in Champion City while Captain Amazing (Greg Kinnear) saves the day before retiring to his limo to have tense conversations with his publicist (Ricky Jay). Bored and unchallenged, and being a bit of a pompous doofus, Amazing arranges for the release of his greatest foe, Casanova Frankenstein (Geoffrey Rush), but his plan backfires, and soon the second-tier wannabes find themselves in charge of saving the city -- maybe the world.
Though it goofs on superhero mythologies, Mystery Men is not a precise or studious spoof; the cartoony, garish Champion City is more of a warped imitation of '90s superhero-movie overkill than a specific parody. While the source is an indie comic book, the film doesn't deal in comics-world in-jokes or even many broad tips to the more famous heroes -- though the film makes an excellent run at the old joke about the dim perception levels of a population unable to tell the glasses-wearing Clark Kent from the bare-faced Superman.
Despite the elaborate visuals and accompanying moments of overdirection from commercial veteran Kinka Usher, the film's humor is rooted in its characters and, more so, the comic professionals who shape them. Mr. Furious is a particularly brilliant creation, an awkward, needy, insecure man who believes that eventually, he will become angry enough to move mountains, or at least punch out bad guys; the impotent rage of the Ben Stiller persona has rarely been used to better effect. Nor has his longtime friendship and chemistry with Janeane Garofalo, who has some of the best moments as, well, basically Janeane Garofalo... with a superpowered bowling ball.
In fact, just about everyone in the film's large, potentially unwieldy cast gets an inspired moment or three, creating a kind of loose, inspired disorganization. Through all the clamor and mid-level special effects, the movie has a real heart, pumped up formidably by Azaria and Macy, bringing a believability and poignancy to the general goofiness. When Macy gives his egg-salad-themed St. Crispin's Day speech and Garofalo shouts out the independent film scene on a newscast, they're providing a sort of witty mock-gravitas to balance out the silliest gags -- many of which also hit perfectly, like any scene featuring Wes Studi's turn as The Sphinx, a quasi-cryptic Yoda-ish figure who trains the team.
Mystery Men's actor-friendly alchemy has a semi-improvised feeling, which may explain why Usher retreated back to lucrative commercials (this remains his only theatrical feature) and screenwriter Neil Cuthbert's other credits (most recently The Adventures of Pluto Nash) lack this movie's zip. Then again, even a dozen talented actors don't exist in a vacuum; too much of the movie works to discount its now-MIA creative crew.
The movie originally arrived in theaters ahead of the superhero onslaught driven by the success of X-Men and Spider-Man, and, in a testament to its durability, it plays just as well in the midst of a superhero movie boom as it did during its oddly-timed initial release. Rather than going after comic books or the movies that love them with satirical claws, Mystery Men winds up paying clever but vaguely sincere tribute to the idea of superheroes -- that marginal talents can come together for the greater good. Their actual talents being far greater, the filmmakers make it look easy.
Bowl if you want to.
