Unbreakable (2000) is a perfect example. The plot goes like this: A horrible train crash occurs, and only one man, a security guard named David, survives. Soon David is contacted by Elijah, a comic-book devotee and comics gallery owner, who confronts him with a series of questions: Have you ever been sick? Ever been injured? Can you predict when people are about to commit crimes? Elijah thinks David may be a real-life superhero. Long fascinated by such super-powered guardians, Elijah is in some respects the antithesis of one. Born with a rare disorder that makes his bones extremely fragile, he has suffered over 50 fractures; as a child, other kids nicknamed him “Mr. Glass.”

Elijah and David’s meeting kicks off an overly extended exposition, throughout which David wonders if he actually has superpowers. There are red herrings: What about the time he was in that car accident? How about when he almost drowned in the pool? In an interminable scene—remarkable only for the obvious product placement—David tries to find out how much he can bench-press. Son Joseph, the representative Gloomy Shyamalan Boy, wants Dad to flex his muscles and impress the neighborhood kids; in a scene that seriously strains the viewer’s credulity, he even threatens to shoot David, so he can prove his dad’s “super.”

At this point, I kept thinking, “Come on, you’re super already—go out and kick some villain butt!” But the superhero action, when it finally comes, is disappointing and merely changes the film’s tone from dreary to outright silly. Why did David almost drown that one time? Because his one weakness is water! Of course—water! Hey, maybe he’s really one of the aliens from Signs (2002)! Powerful stuff, that H20.

David’s superhero debut is equally as comical. With his super senses, he sees that a janitor has entered a home and terrorized its inhabitants; he follows the guy into the house, frees the family—and then gets into a fight with the janitor. Unfortunately, while the house looks real, David and the janitor are dressed such that they resemble costumed comic-book characters: David in a cowled, cape-like rain slicker, and the janitor in a neon-orange jumpsuit. The effect is mirth-provoking: the Cowled Avenger versus Orange Jumpsuit Guy. Making the scene even more amusing, the janitor knocks David into a pool. A pool! Water! Nooo! Swim, Slicker Man, swim!

Unbreakable’s ending—which I won’t reveal—puts the grace note on all this absurdity. Shyamalan gifts his audience with yet another twist ending; the surprise comes largely because the psychological motivation accounting for it is so poorly developed. In fact, the director seems to have deliberately withheld information in order to preserve the shock of this “twist,” a choice that considerably weakens the ending, as well as some of the themes he’s trying to put forward.

But what ultimately breaks Unbreakable is how seriously it takes itself. This movie wants you to believe it’s a reservoir of Really Deep Ideas, when all it does is toss some concepts clumsily on-screen and surrounds them with pretentious dialogue. For instance, there’s a lot of blather about David and Elijah being opposite ends of the same spectrum: one’s immune to physical harm and the other’s constantly being harmed, one has a superior body, the other’s got a disabled and weakened body. This idea sounds promising until it is undercut by—yes—more superhero silliness. “I’ve got the same problem with swallowing too much water that you have,” Elijah announces victoriously, once he figures out that David’s near-drowning does not disqualify him from herohood. “It links us together! It’s our greatest weakness!” I don’t mean to sound callous, but I would think that Elijah’s bone disease would present a greater weakness than a tendency to gulp water.

The premise that the human race occasionally produces a person with prodigious powers who could act as a defender—and that such people provide the archetypes on which comic-book heroes are based—is intriguing. But throw a so-called realistic superhero on the screen, fighting crime in a ridiculous-looking slicker-cape, and this idea is exploded. Superheroes have an essentially campy quality that precludes seriousness. The makers of the Spider-Man movies knew this, and that’s what make their films fun to watch. Unbreakable is neither fun—by the end I was hoping for Doctor Deluge or Geyser Girl to appear and create a showdown situation—nor does it have much to say.