A little over a year ago, the entertainment industry lost one of its most prolific stars. A fair amount of industry giants passed away in 2014, but no loss was so publicly felt as Robin Williams'. The man was an icon, and he affected the lives of many people, whether personally or through his large and varied body of work. So it seems fitting, in remembrance, to take a look at the performance that netted him his only Oscar.

It's strange, if you think about it, that "Good Will Hunting" in its current form was ever produced. Strong efforts were made to populate the cast and creative team with established, commercially acceptable stars (how different would this film be with Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt as the leads?), but the film ended up being host to slightly more...eccentric picks: Gus Van Sant (probably the most straightforward film he's ever directed), Danny Elfman (likewise for composition), and of course the breakout stars of the project, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. And oh my God, it's so funny and weird watching them when they were young working on their passion project. It's damn inspiring, is what it is.

This film is almost 20 years old (yikes), so the question is, how well as this film aged? Does its reputation still feel deserved? 

I mean, yeah. Yeah, I think it does.

I'm about to drop a bomb on you guys, which shouldn't be much of a surprise if you've read much of my stuff: I don't like superhero movies that much.

I know! It's sacrilege. But I still consider myself a full-fledged geek. I've been into anime and manga since I was a young'un, so it's not that I find superhero stuff ridiculous or juvenile (most anime is WAY more out there than Spiderman), and I understand the narrative appeal completely. I don't like superhero stories, particularly this newest round of Marvel offerings, because the culture feels...exclusive. For so long, "comics" meant "superheroes", and both words carried the stigma of the reputation; comics were for lonely, out-of-shape shut-ins who can't get a date. This has never been true, and never encompassed the appeal of the comic book format, but the facts of the matter didn't stop that idea of the sad, put-upon boy as the image of the "geek".

Right now, comics are more inclusive than they've ever been. The official Spiderman in the comic universe is biracial, Ms Marvel is Muslim, and more women (and men) than ever are reading and enjoying comics (at least openly). So...how come so many people still don't feel like they're part of the club?

The answer is complicated, as are my feelings about this film. "Kick-Ass" encompasses the highs and the lows of superhero culture. It forces the viewer to confront their fascination with men and women in spandex, and gives them insight into the dangerous of obsessive fanaticism. And it does so while still being entertaining in all the ways a good superhero film is. All the same, critics didn't know the answer to a simple question: what is this film trying to say?

Strap in, sports fans. We're trawling for an answer, and getting SUPER drunk along the way.