I hurt my face laughing at "Superbad," an excruciatingly funny, surprisingly endearing teen farce. It combines the hormone-charged raunch of '70s high school comedies (the title, flat visual presentation and funky soundtrack all nod to teensploitation classics) with the understated humanity that is producer Judd Apatow's trademark.

Apatow's comedies never condescend to viewers or their characters. In "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" and "Knocked Up," he presents "typical" guys who are nuanced individuals, evolving and growing over the course of the story.

"Superbad" maintains that delicate balance of sweetness, empathy and vulgar comedy. It's so packed with irreverent lowbrow wit that you scarcely notice how it quietly shifts from gross-out jokes to adult themes.

Jonah Hill and Michael Cera play Seth and Evan, best buds soon to leave for separate colleges. Anxious about graduating and disconnecting, the chubby motormouth and his bright, timid pal shoot for one final bonding experience -- losing their virginity.

Evan bumbles his way toward Becca (Martha Mac-Isaac), a wallflower who has blossomed into a babe. Seth aims high for Jules (Emma Stone), a smart sweetie who invites him to her end-of-school bash and assigns him the risky errand of supplying the liquor.

He accepts because Evan's dweeby acquaintance Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) is about to score a fake ID. When the scrawny Fogell shows up with a dubious-looking Hawaii driver's license under the porn star handle McLovin, Seth's indignant frustration is a sight to behold.

It's also poignant. The socially awkward Seth sees himself as a reject who'll have to use liquor to score; inhibited Evan feels pressured by Seth to take a step he's not prepared for, and Fogell is a hilariously self-deluded nugget of insecurity wrapped in a thin coating of bluster.

The film's theme of separation anxiety plays out as the trio set off on individual adventures that are a far cry from the high-fivin', chick-chasin' romp they imagined. They barely cross paths as the night wears on, but by cutting nimbly between their stories, director Greg Mottola creates the feeling of an ensemble picture.

Their wild rumpus includes a visit to an adult house party full of dangerous roughnecks and loose women, ego-bruising encounters with Becca and Jules, the most horrendously embarrassing menstruation scene since "Carrie" and, for Fogell, a night of outrageous hooliganism with a pair of police officers (co-writer Seth Rogen of "Knocked Up" and "Saturday Night Live's" Bill Hader) who give new meaning to the term "maverick cop."

The cast is perfection. Hill and Cera riff together so effortlessly that you can believe they've spent years together developing their syncopated banter. The affection in their relationship is tangible, and so are the rough edges and resentments and jealousy in a bond that is beginning to edge into codependency. Mintz-Plasse has a wacky charm that blooms in his night on the town with the impetuous Hader and Rogen, who does his stock-in-trade evocation of nice-guy uncouthness. Stone and Mac-Isaac are cute, but not in the fresh-from-the-clone-factory way of most starlets. Like the guys, they're realistically flawed, and all the better for it. Their performances won't garner any nominations, but they certainly deserve to.

The story's finale, an awkward and naïve farewell to childhood, is handled with simplicity and grace. The friends part with the unspoken understanding that they'll never be able to return to their friendship on the same terms. Watching it, I felt what they were feeling: "Wow, I'm going to miss those guys."

Colin Covert • 612-673-7186