I know it came out in 2005, but I just saw The 40 Year-Old Virgin last night. Until now, I was a Virgin virgin. Hey-oh!

You see, I’d been resisting the movies of Judd Apatow because I assumed I would despise them. Based solely on what I’d heard, I figured I’d hate them as much as I hate There’s Something About Mary and American Pie, which are really mean-spirited and lame.

I know, I know… it’s not good to judge a DVD by its cover, especially when you put your picture on a criticism website. But that’s why I finally saw the movie, you know? I’m putting my critical money where my mouth is! Don’t just react! Think!

(Did you notice there were two cliches in that paragraph?)

So like I said, I saw the movie, and… I liked it.

Crazy, right?

On the simplest level, Steve Carell, Catherine Keener, and Paul “My Husband” Rudd just kick all kinds of ass in this thing. I love them, and the movie boosts my love.

But there’s another reason I liked The Virg: It opts for a worldview of kindness and innocence.

Them’s analyzin words! I’ll explain what I mean after the jump. (Spoilers aplenty!)

Hey, Let’s Mock This Doofus!

When we first meet Steve Carell’s character Andy, he’s an immediate figure of ridicule. Jokes are made at his expense, his co-workers think he’s crazy, and we’re encouraged to agree. When we see Andy collecting old toys and talking about how he spent hours making an egg salad sandwich, we’re not supposed to identify with him. We’re supposed to think we’re superior to him, and laugh with relief that we didn’t turn out like he did.

But then, after Andy reveals his ultimate symbol of Otherness (his virginity), the movie takes an interesting turn. It asks us to start sympathizing with him.

Sympathy for the Angel

After his co-workers announce they’re going to get Andy laid, his perspective suddenly becomes hyper-sexualized. Whereas we originally see him looking at flowers and toys, now we see him looking at breasts, breasts, breasts.

And the breasts are everywhere. But instead of getting turned on by them, Andy gets freaked out. With a new sexual awareness, he sees that every ad and every magazine cover is designed to make him think about boo-tay. Disconcerted, he starts fumbling, stumbling, and mumbling everywhere he goes.

But now the movie isn’t making fun of Andy. It’s making fun of our sexed-up culture. It’s asking us to look at America with the eyes of a newcomer… someone who hasn’t been jaded by years of exposure to sexual innuendo, but who is discovering it for the first time.

To use a Brechtian theater term, Andy’s point of view alienates us from stuff we see every day.  It asks us to look at it from a new perspective.

And if you look at it through Andy’s innocent eyes, America’s relationship to sex is crazy. But he’s only reminding us of something we already know. When we see Andy’s surprise at our culture, we’re reminded it doesn’t have to be this way. No one’s forcing us to put tits on everything.

The most telling scene from this section of the film comes when Andy tries to outrun an ad for Eruption Perfume, featuring a naked couple and the tagline “You Know You Want It.” The ad is on the side of a bus, so Andy races away. But in the next shot, the ad is on another bus. And this time, it’s not just on a placard. The ad is covering the entire surface of the bus. Eruptions everywhere!

You’ve gotta feel sympathy for Andy in that moment, because he just can’t escape. Sexual pressure is literally chasing him down the street.

Make a New World, Little Buddy!

But here’s the thing: Andy never succumbs. Instead, the rest of the movie changes to be like him–sweet, sincere, straightforward, and interested in love.

All of Andy’s co-workers start out as various types of horndogs. Jay (Romany Malco) is the player, Cal (Seth Rogen) is the freak, and David (my husband) is the porn-obsessed weirdo who can’t get over his girlfriend. At first, they try to make Andy behave like them, giving him tips on everything from grooming to conversation. But ultimately, none of it works. (The chest hair waxing, for instance, is a disaster.)

And it doesn’t work because Andy just can’t get himself to be lusty. Instead, he develops a serious relationship with Trish (Catherine Keener) after they promise not to have sex for twenty dates. They really get to know each other, and so they fall in love.

Meanwhile, Jay stops cheating and becomes a father. David settles down with a new girlfriend. And Cal… well, Cal stays pretty much the same, but it would be insincere for the movie to suggest that Andy’s attitude can change everyone.

But by the end, Cal is the exception to the new, sensitive rule. Consider this: When Andy does have sex with Trish, it happens after they get married. Totally wholesome! And when she asks how it was for him, he’s so ecstatic that he breaks into song. The movie ends with a big musical number, where all the characters dance and hug.

That’s cheeky, yes, but it’s sincere. Andy has clearly become the hero, and he’s done it by refusing to be hyper-sexualized. By staying true to his own sweet instincts, he has affected the movie so much that it has transformed from a foul-mouthed romp into a family-friendly musical.

Plus, the song they sing, “Age of Aquarius,” is from Hair, a musical about rejecting the standard, insensitive construction of the male identity. (I know that’s what it’s about because the writers told me. Look for their quotes in a story I’m writing for the New York Times on July 27.)

Bust the Eruption

Want another big sign that Andy has conquered his sexed-up society? He finally tells Trish he’s a virgin–and therefore seals their relationship forever–after he has an accident on his bike. He’s lying there on the pavement, and he confesses.

And in the accident? He flies through a billboard for Eruption Perfume! He literally rips a hole in the thing that was chasing him down. The moment he destroys the billboard, the movie lets him succeed.

That’s not what I was expecting from The 40 Year-Old Virgin, but I’m glad that’s what I found.