Hidden within the plethora of movie streaming services are true gems; Streaming Obscura seeks to shine some light on the films you might otherwise miss.



This summer, director James Gunn is at the helm of one of Marvel’s riskier titles, The Guardians of the Galaxy. Gunn has come a long way, as he got his start working for the z-grade film company Troma and now is working for Marvel/Disney, and that’s pretty damn refreshing.

But before Gunn tackled more fantastical superheroes like a talking tree and a talking raccoon and Chris Pratt’s abs, he focused on much more human “superheroes” with Super. Unfortunately for Super, it happened to come out the same year as the pretty terrible Kick-Ass, which explores a similar theme of every-day people trying to be costumed crime fighters. Kick-Ass got more attention because it was based on an already existing comic book property and because it featured Chloe Grace Moretz saying “cunt” a lot. But for everything that Kick-Ass and its super glossy ultra-violence does wrong, Super does right. It’s a smart movie that channels Taxi Driver; it just happens to have people running around in ridiculous homemade superhero costumes.

Super is the story of Frank Darrbo, played here by Rainn Wilson slightly after the peak of The Office’s popularity. Wilson could’ve easily just played “Dwight, but as a superhero,” but his Frank Darrbo is a completely different creation — a pathetic fry cook, desperately trying to keep his former-drug-addict wife Sarah (Liv Tyler) happy in their run-down, mundane existence together.

One day, Sarah is gone. Frank suspects foul play, but it turns out Sarah is shacking up with local strip club owner Jacques (Kevin Bacon, at his sleazy best).

Frank is a religious person, and he prays for guidance from God. The guidance comes in the form of a bizarre vision in which tentacle-rape-anime-porn comes to life, representing “the hand of God,” and literally touches Frank’s brain. Frank is inspired to become “The Crimson Bolt,” a crime fighter whose superpowers include a strong sense of righteousness and bashing people’s heads with a wrench.

The “crime fighting” starts with Frank looking for illegal activities, but it begins to take on a whole new life when Frank begins dishing out his own brand of justice to people he feels are breaking the rules—from child molesters to people who cut in line at the movies.

The brutal wrench-beatings Frank delivers are played for dark laughs, but there’s also a disturbing realness to them. Unlike Kick-Ass, where all the violence is slick and presented in a cool manner, the violence in Super is ugly and disturbing; there’s a sense that it will have repercussions.





Frank is, for lack of a better word, disturbed. He is, after all, brutally attacking people because he thinks it’s God’s will. But as crazy as Frank can be, he’s no match for the comic book clerk who becomes his sidekick, Libby. Libby is played by Ellen Page, and she is phenomenal here. The character might seem abrasive to some, but Page perfectly captures the character’s mania along with her vulnerability. When she tricks Frank into smashing in the head of some guy just because she thinks he may or may not have vandalized a car, Frank tries to distance himself from her, but Libby proves resourceful—mostly because she’s so unhinged she has no real sense of danger.

At first, the attacks by the Crimson Bolt and his new kid-sidekick Boltie are seen as the work of psychopaths, but the media and the public begin to root for these two when they learn that a lot of the people they are attacking are criminals.

It all leads to an epic and blood soaked showdown as Frank and Libby storm Jacque’s mansion, trying to rescue Sarah. A lesser film would have this whole ending play out as a big, fun victory for Frank, but Super is smarter than that. There are real, disturbing, dark consequences from this final assault and, though there is some hopefulness in the ending, there’s also a prevailing sadness.

Super is not without its flaws. There are a few side characters who almost seem thrown into the film because Gunn wanted to give his friends some work, and they don’t really serve a point in the film. And while Liv Tyler, as Sarah, is good, she sort of a non-character; she’s more like a goal Frank has to achieve rather than another human being. But Super makes up for its flaws with smart writing, and an uneasy message about vigilantism: who hasn’t wanted to do something rotten to someone who cut in line? But where does the line get drawn?

Near the end of the film, a character states, “You fucking psycho…you think stabbing me to death is going to change the world?” Frank’s reply: “I can’t know that for sure—unless I try!” There is sick logic in Frank’s actions—but it’s probably for the best that we don’t all act on our sudden angry urges like he does. Someone might get hurt—or worse.

I doubt Guardians of the Galaxy will be as dark as this film is, but it’s encouraging that Marvel is willing to take a chance on Gunn. And if Marvel success enables him to make more films like this, I’ll be thrilled.

You can stream Super on Netflix here.