There's not much left to do with reality television. We've seen faux weddings, naked survivors, bad singing auditions, millionaire questions and fired apprentices. We've seen people voted off, people succeed and make a national name for themselves because of their incompetence.

The fact that Stan Lee's Who Wants To Be A Superhero? is completely ridiculous and the epitome of reality show excess doesn't necessarily make for unwatchable entertainment. More than anything, the show comes across as tongue-in-cheek criticism of reality TV, comic books and people's shameless lust for fame. It's the sort of self-deprecating smirk that most reality TV shows don't quite sport (America's Got Talent, for instance, asks us to believe David Hasselhoff has an eye for upcoming talent with a completely straight face).

True, Stan Lee takes this project--a comic book expo, radioactive social experiment gone horribly wrong--ultra-seriously which just adds to the kitsch. "Superheroes don't kill!" he admonishes the shirtless cyborg Iron Enforcer, right after scolding the entire group for foolishly dancing when they should be taking their "superhero mission seriously." Lee is a god among geeks, a kingpin at Marvel Comics, and generally regarded as the most influential comic writer in the medium's existence. He is the perfect icon for this interactive game, spouting out militaristic clichés like he were Professor X's disembodied head, or at least Hugh Hefner on a humanistic mission.

The characters are reality show thin, meaning as real as they come and yet somehow stereotypical. I'm not sure who pressured Stan Lee into allowing "Fat Momma" as a token finalist. Wasn't there any aspiring Luke Cage's in those crowds of hopefuls? Only two of the 12 finalists actually give anything close to the appearance of an archetypical superhero. The others come across as regular adults who are badly dressed, and overjoyed to be prancing around in capes in the true spirit of comic fandom.

The challenges are characteristically hammy but remain entertaining. Auditioning superheroes are voted off according to their universally-incorrect opinions (I kill bad guys! I want to make an action figure of myself! I want some super sex!) and are not asked, but expected to respond to innocent people in danger even if it violates the mission. The fact that one contestant was "dismissed" before the game even began was sort of cruel; but don't be surprised if the Levity, the first gay reality show superhero, comes back in later episodes as a supervillain. This is after all, done in the spirit of cape-tugging fun and a taste for the theatrical.

Ironically, I think winning the ultimate prize, which is to be drawn into your own comic book written by Stan Lee as well as your own cameo appearance in an upcoming Sci-Fi channel movie, is a piece of Kryptonite when it comes to victory. The comic book is bound to flop as none of these heroes are actually interesting characters. With any luck at least their costume will drastically improve in their glorious 15 panels of fame. After the comic book gimmick is through, as all reality show contestants, these heroes will fall back even deeper into the dark pit of obscurity. What I suggest to Major Victory, my predicted winner who insists on playing dumb even while seeming ultimately smarter than the whole show, is that when Stan Lee announces him the winner, he behaves as a true superhero would. He should refuse such a shallow reward and dismiss his winning efforts as simply what any hero would have done. That will truly win him immortality in annals of the reality TV. Grade: B