Quick Superbad Review

I read somewhere (Ed. note: not Cosmo) that women decide if they’re going to make sexy time with a guy within the first fifteen minutes of a date. I’ve yet to confirm this rumor since none of my dates last longer than ten bucks, but I think the same concept can be applied to Superbad.

In case you haven’t heard, Superbad is the newest movie from the comedic imaginings of Seth Rogen (The 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up), Evan Goldberg (Knocked Up), and Judd Apatow (many, many projects) and it’s been a long time in the coming. A long, loooong time in the coming. Let me put it this way, when I first heard about Superbad I could still sing as a soprano. So like, since February.

Anyhoo, after so many months of seeing dick penis crotch Mr. Happy previews and clips of high school nerdishness, you probably have a pretty good idea whether you want to see Superbad or not. I’d say trust your instincts on this one. If you liked Knocked Up, you’ll like Superbad. If you have a penis, you’ll probably like Superbad. If you liked The Notebook you probably won’t like Superbad - or have a penis.

Penis spoilers

Those of you who choose to see Superbad will be treated to a crude teenage comedy that’s genuinely funny and, at times, heartfelt. It’s not as polished as Knocked Up (I never thought I’d ever write that), but Superbad manages to mine plenty of laughs from the fertile grounds of teenage adolescence. The best moments in the film come from those experiences we all faced growing up: the accidental boob grab, awkward conversations with the opposite sex, and singing exhibitions for coked out drug fiends.

For those who decide to pass on Superbad, I suggest popping The Notebook into the DVD player so you can tell me what happens. I was going to watch it, but after fifteen minutes it just wasn’t sexy enough for me.