Kritiken

[After a rewatch,] “Superbad” was far from ruined for me. It’s still fun, and what I probably appreciate the most now is the film’s surprisingly progressive (for its time) view that taking sexual advantage of drunk women is really not O.K. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve also re-examined why I was drawn to certain things when I was younger.

Superbad cannily understands the dualities of being a teenager... Their constant thirst is vividly captured by Cera and Hill, who deliver a pair of star-making performances as one of the great modern onscreen comedy duos.

The doofus infused high school movie has been done to death in recent years but Superbad feels fresh, edgy and essentially everything its predecessors were not.

I didn't find its comedy hit-rate as high as The 40 Year Old Virgin or Knocked Up, but it uses the same technique of semi-improvised scenes loosely linked together and its best moments are genuinely hilarious.

Superbad is an absolute riot. There are more belly laughs here than you'll find in a dozen high-profile star vehicles. It's as if Mike Leigh decided to make a gross-out comedy.

‘Superbad’ at its best goes right through knockabout to land in deliciously obscene places... Crafted with such deliriously pain-staking care as to defy offence, they stand for a film, a group of films, defining the difference between vulgarity and crassness.

The reasons to recommend Superbad are numerous and compelling, from its rare emphasis on male, rather than female, genitalia, to its almost nonstop barrage of laugh-out-loud moments. And then there’s the film’s most remarkable contribution, which lies in its willingness to champion dude love.

“Superbad” largely works not because the jokes are funny, which they generally are, even on the spitometer. It works because no matter how unapologetically vulgar their words, no matter how single-mindedly priapic their preoccupations, these men and boys are good and decent and tender and true.

[Superbad,] a four-letter raunch-a-rama with a heart... is astonishingly foul-mouthed, but in a fluent, confident way where the point isn’t the dirty words, but the flow and rhythm, and the deep, sad yearning they represent.

[Superbad] is laugh-out-loud stuff, a real giddy pleasure. It's a high school comedy, and the humor is sometimes crude, but the impulse behind the humor isn't crude at all.

Superbad [is] one of the most remarkably--and, at its best, hilariously--filthy examples of the [teen sex comedy] genre ever produced... Where [the film] really sings--again, in the filthiest key imaginable--is in the moments when nothing much is happening at all.

Greg Mottola’s film seeks to mirror the now-patented Apatow formula: severe raunch complemented by aw-shucks sweetness. The former takes dominant precedence over the latter, though its casual, un-preachy depiction of all-consuming adolescent yearning for social/romantic/sexual acceptance nonetheless brings a measure of genuine sensitivity to the unending ejaculation of profanity