The heroes in producer Judd Apatow’s universe have always held an interesting mix of stunted social interaction, artificial worldliness, and the right amount of heart. Consider Andy, the gentlemanly protagonist of Apatow’s breakthrough hit The 40-Year-Old Virgin or Seth Rogen’s Ben Stone, the clumsy but chivalric everyman at the center of this summer’s Knocked Up. Eternally childish but with the principled intentions, Apatow’s leading men are easy to love and painful to observe as they flounder before females. The latest results of this formula are the heroes of Superbad, a recollection by first-time screenwriters Rogen and Evan Goldberg of the Homeric chase after sex and alcohol in the waning days of high school.

Superbad stars Jonah Hill as Seth, a paunchy, brash and vulgar kid whose penchant for studying virtual sex via online porn keeps him away from the ladies, and Michael Cera as Evan, the gangly, maladroit compliment to Seth’s bravado. They’re like a flip-flopped Jay and Awkward Bob. After four years on the social sidelines, they are invited to a legit party by Jules (Emma Stone), the hottie for whom Seth not so subtly yearns. Seth promises to provide booze, a sure-fire method for him to bed Jules and coax her into a relationship; Evan hopes to more politely do the latter with Becca (Martha MacIsaac). The boys are aided in their undertaking by Fogell (newbie Christopher Mintz-Plasse), an all-time geek who lands a phony I.D. under the pseudonym McLovin.

In Empire Strikes Back style, the three heroes are split apart several times: Fogell is forced to ride in the back of a squad car with two freewheeling cops (Rogen and Bill Hader), leaving Seth and Evan to scour the county for alternate sources of booze. On that mission alone, they are forced to reckon with pre-separation anxiety stemming from the fact that Evan got into Dartmouth and Seth, less academically inclined, didn’t. When the two get into a fight and briefly separate, Cera’s somewhat green acting chops make his story wilt where Hill’s rapid-fire potty mouth keeps him afloat. When the two are together, it’s comically gold.

As a pair, Cera and Hill have incredible comic chemistry and launch themselves into classic territory. What isn’t so classic is McLovin’s side story. It has good moments, namely when Fogell is trying his best to be gangsta (”ladies, fo’ real”), but Rogen and Hader can be over the top at times, and their spiraling whimsy can be dizzying. The concept of the character is fabulous, and Mintz-Plasse is a delight, but he’s stuck trying to carry a middle section of the movie that is perhaps a bit more bloated than it could be. Essentially, Superbad is a road movie with a destination just a few blocks away, and getting there should be half the fun. Seeing a bit more of the party, then, could fill out the equation.

In the end, Superbad is neither super nor bad. It’s quite a good movie compared to the bad teen movies that Rogen says motivated him to write something decent. But in the blissful era where the Judd Apatow Pantheon of Awkward Comedy reigns supreme, expectations are high, and Superbad touches the bar with its fingertips but can’t fully grasp it. The film didn’t strike me, as it was advertised, to be the next American Graffiti or Fast Times at Ridgemont High on first viewing, though time will ultimately determine its staying power. So check your sky-high hopes at the ticket counter and you should be able to enjoy one of the better investments of time and money this summer.

Rating: * * * 1/2 of 5

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