There's a scene near the beginning of Zoom that sums up the entire film quite nicely. A group of government scientists are holding "auditions" for a top-secret team of adolescent superheroes, and child after child steps up to the table and offers a demonstration of his or her preternatural powers. Preternatural powers like, say, blowing huge, poorly-animated bubbles of explosive mucus out of one nostril. And flatulence. And blinking fast. The pitiful thing is, these kids actually seem to think they're doing something super when they're clearly not. Not so with the filmmakers behind Zoom—they're clearly not doing anything extraordinary either, but they don't seem to have any delusions of grandeur. Despite whatever connotations its title might suggest, Zoom is a movie marked by pure laziness, made by folks who either don't know or don't care what they're doing.
It isn't an awful premise. If the sequence described above sounds reminiscent of something from Mystery Men, it's because this film is very much in the same thematic vein as that underappreciated comedy, as well as more recent flicks like The Incredibles, Sky High, and this summer's My Super Ex-Girlfriend, wherein the extraordinary and the mundane collide when regular folks find themselves thrust into being costumed crime fighters.
Of those films, Zoom shares the most common ground with Sky High. As in that movie, a group of supernaturally talented kids are trained to hone and control their powers and to use them for good. In this case, the kids are drafted by a secret military unit, and, unbeknownst to them, they are being groomed to defend the world from a rapidly-approaching threat, supervillain Concussion (Kevin Zegers). Their teacher is none other than Concussion's ...1