Overlooked by many critics and dismissed by others as mediocre when it took its domestic theatrical bow in the late summer of 2005, The Baxter – contrary to the assessments of some – feels enormously successful and enjoyable. The movie relays the tale of Elliott Sherman (Michael Showalter), a thoroughly geeky but sweet-natured Manhattan CPA whose romantic history consists of being jilted ad infinitum from early adolescence – a status that prompts him to term himself a ‘Baxter,’ short for a bachelor with lots of exes. The premise deals with Sherman’s engagement to a gorgeous, WASP-y magazine editor, Caroline (Elizabeth Banks) – and the way in which those nuptials are repeatedly sabotaged by one of her unctuous ex-boyfriends, Bradley (Justin Theroux), even as the possibility of a secondary romance with an office temp named Cecil (Michelle Williams) presents itself to Elliott.

At a breezy 85 minutes, this low-key comedy represents the premiere writer/director effort of Showalter - a veteran of MTV’s early 1990s sketch comedy series The State - and arrived sandwiched in-between two other big-screen outings that featured much of the State cast, Wet Hot American Summer (2001) and The Ten (2007). Like its forerunner and successor, The Baxter bears some of the misanthropic humor that became a trademark of The State; the difference lies in the way that Showalter contextualizes that misanthropy and the degree to which he underplays and mollifies it – cloaking it in a narrative and dialogue that feel genteel, affable, and not at all crass even as they retain a dead-on-target drollness. As a result, the film exudes a distinct and offbeat sensibility.

In terms of humor, Showalter enriches the movie with bright satirical elements, but he particularly revels in satirizing modes of behavior – such as Elliott’s nerdlike proclivities (“It was Monday… my favorite day of the week!”; “I will have… a Harvey Wallbanger, please”) – and in some genuinely goofy off-center dialogue that reps a nod to the universal sense of enthusiasm one feels about a newfound relationship (“What letter have you reached in the dictionary, Cecil? G? Oh, G! G is a classic!”). Even specific lines that typically wouldn’t carry humorous overtones at all earn belly laughs because of the weird spin given them by the gifted performers (such as Zak Orth’s assertion, “I have an aunt who was married in Mankato,” which he speaks with an air of slightly affected pretension and the syllabic precision of a total oddball). Oftentimes, Showalter will take linguistic and behavioral cliches that we’ve seen ten thousand times prior in life, and stretch them to a point just shy of complete absurdity – such as the ridiculous bar games of Bradley and his friends (which include a deliberately awful Jack Nicholson impersonation), and, in my very favorite moment, Elliott’s parents’ reassurances after Caroline terminates the engagement. It isn’t merely necessary for them to remind him that “there are other fish in the sea”; instead, the exchanges begin there and travel to an absurd extreme: “You know what they say, dear… mm-hmmm… there are other fish in the sea. Say, son, I hear that the neighbors’ girl, Tina, is on the slab again! Mmm-mmm! She sounds like a fresh catch!” And the movie doesn’t limit itself to satirizing daily modes of behavior and language: it satirizes iconic scenes and sequences from other films – such as the hilarious “act of God” that reunites Caroline and Bradley seconds after Elliott and Caroline discuss him and that sends up the serendipitous use of fate as a deus-ex-machina in dozens of prior films. A colleague of mine (who hated the film) read the third-act wedding interruption scene as an homage to The Graduate, but nothing could be further from the truth: it isn’t a nod to Mike Nichols and Calder Willingham – it parodies hundreds of other movies that end with the protagonist barging into his beloved’s wedding to another man… films that defined a specific onscreen convention. But in none of those films did the jilted groom’s parents cheer and applaud when the suitor suddenly burst into the chapel to declare his love for the bride. That’s the Showalter touch.

Showalter’s most impressive gift, however, lies in his role as a scriptwriter, where he projects a dazzling adroitness with tone; he wisely sustains the possibility of Elliott romancing Cecil (Williams is dowdied up into a Plain Jane but still looks as adorable as can be) even as Elliott’s engagement to Caroline rapidly falls to pieces. The writer/director thus leaves a source of unbridled hope and optimism in the film, and rescues the movie from the potentially painful impact of watching the Elliott/Caroline pairing fall apart. Showalter presents Caroline to the audience before we glimpse Cecil, but only briefly – meanwhile keeping the audience fully aware of the ill-suitedness of that relationship with devices both obvious and clever. Particularly ingenious is the way in which Showalter’s narrative bucks linearity, sneakily doubling back on itself after we first catch a glimpse of Caroline and Elliott together, and then allowing us to see that Elliott’s real compatibility lies with Cecil, his soul-mate – thus making this the standard by which we judge every subsequent relationship in the film. Hence, the movie begins to flirt with a satirical structure: we can see that Elliott and Cecil are destined to be together – in their shared knowledge of oddball plants, their idiosyncratic love of language, their shared eccentricity of reading the dictionary for kicks. By contrast, the relationship with Caroline presents itself as comparatively phony, carries a distinct satirical tone (given the fact that these intendeds have hoodwinked themselves into believing that they have a “destined” level of compatibility) and makes us root for Elliott and Cecil a thousand times over. (Consider Caroline’s mock-soulmate dialogue with Elliott and how ludicrous it seems when held up next to the heartwarming dictionary exchange with Cecil that preceded it: “You jog? I speedwalk! That is such a coincidence!”) The Cecil subplot also rescues the film from the potential danger of our feeling alienated from Elliott when the obnoxious Bradley waltzes back into Caroline’s life and takes over, but Elliott repeatedly does nothing – we don’t object, because we realize (and sense that on some subliminal level, Elliott realizes) how wrong Caroline is for him. Cecil represents a better choice. Again: tonal perfection.

Equally impressive and mature is the way in which the film suggests, with just the right degree of subtlety, that virtually everyone can qualify as a Baxter at one point or another – and that it may simply depend on one’s perspective and position in a relationship. (If one frees oneself from Elliott Sherman’s perspective, it becomes apparent that many of the single folks in this movie are getting jilted in one way or another).

This may be the rare case of a comedy so intelligent in its execution that it completely snuck by viewers – audiences underestimated it and neglected to read it on the appropriate level. Showalter’s visuals are admittedly flat and undistinguished, and his script never achieves complete profundity, but his narrative structure, his tone, and his sense of humor are brilliant and announce the arrival of a refreshing talent. The film makes one constantly laugh out loud and gently sends up accepted social conventions even as it provides wisdom and insight into contemporary relationships; it also retains an irresistible sweetness throughout. For a first time outing behind the camera, that’s one astonishing balance.