The phrase "Sundance darling" comes with a bit more skepticism for me nowadays. Sure, the label can sometimes be pinned to a really honest, hilarious and emotionally satisfying film, the kind people want to see from the famed U.S. festival. Other times, it’s stuck onto a movie that’s both overworked and over-quirked.

"The Kings of Summer," a coming-of-age tale begging to be the surprise hit of the summer, swings to both sides of that pendulum, its clever jokes and earnest look at growing-up constantly fighting against the pull of its indie indulgences.

Nick Robinson stars as Joe, a small town high school student fed up with his controlling, unfeeling single dad (Nick Offerman of "Parks and Recreation"). His best friend Patrick (Gabriel Basso) is having similar problems with his excessively cheerful and intrusive helicopter parents, played by Megan Mullally and Marc Evan Jackson.

Drawn by the call of the wild, the boys – alongside a socially awkward hangeron named Biaggio (Moises Arias) – escape their suburban woes, run off into the woods and, using their rudimentary carpentry skills, build a new house with no parents and no rules.

The laid-back growing up story plays a bit like "Stand By Me" mixed with "Superbad" as directed by a Terrence Malick-Zack Snyder lovechild. And as one would expect with a description like that, there is a lot in its favor.

The cast is filled with some of the hottest comedians of the stage and the small screen. Offerman provides his usual hilariously dry, withering sense of humor, and he even gets to rant about food at one point (dumplings, not bacon). Offerman’s real-life wife Mullally is entertaining as Patrick’s remarkably chirpy mom with a secret hatred for the Irish.

Several others – Alison Brie of "Community," Tony Hale, Thomas Middleditch – show up for a scene or two and get to have some fun, most notably stand-up comedian Kumail Nanjiani as a Chinese food delivery guy stuck facing Offerman’s dumpling wrath.

Then there are the kids, the all-important kings of summer if you will. Robinson and Basso have a warm, easy on-screen friendship that feels authentic, both when things are good and when a small rivalry breaks out over a cute schoolmate (Erin Moriarty).

Robinson, given the weightier of the two roles, is especially impressive, turning into the kind of crabby, resentful loner he was trying to escape in the first place as the outside world barges in on his comfy life of scampering through fields, slicing stuff and making tribal drum beats on a rusty pipe.

As the bizarre, machete-wielding Biaggio, Arias is a lot of hilarious fun shouldering most of the movie's jokes. He’s awkwardly wedged into the movie as the genre-mandated comedy-heavy third wheel (think McLovin in "Superbad," Alan in "The Hangover," etc.), and screenwriter Chris Galletta isn’t too keen on hiding that fact. After all, Biaggio literally just shows up and tags along for the rest of the film. Luckily, his peculiar responses and asides ("I can read … I can’t cry") make him a welcome addition.

Director Jordan Vogt-Roberts, making his feature film debut, keeps the proceedings moving comfortably. He also has a firm hand on the tone of the movie, which isn’t quite as innocent as the trailer makes it seem (I would’ve sworn an early edit of the movie I saw featured a jarring use of the c-word. It’s gone now, but there’s still a good amount of sailor talk). The result is a generally amusing, earnest and spirited trip into the woods.

Unfortunately, it’s also a movie that flies the indie flag high. After about the 14th dreamy, slow motion montage of the guys hanging out or some other minor event set to the tune of some hip, Pitchfork-approved music, they’d lost their effect. There are a few little mental asides, like one involving an explosive break-up, that don’t flow into the movie either.

Vogt-Roberts and his cinematographer Ross Riege certainly have an impressive eye (I didn’t make that earlier Malick reference lightly), and I see the concept behind all the slow-mo, emphasizing the drowsy, nostalgic vibes of summer. After a while, though, it ends up feeling distractingly showy, and the asides feel like they’re trying to fill some indie quirk quota that no one wants filled.

Most upsettingly, the artsy, indie excesses end up being a crutch the movie doesn’t even need. Vogt-Roberts, Galletta and the great cast have a natural, relaxed feel for the story and the comedy that does the job on its own. If anything, the strained attempts to impress undercut the sincere emotions and funny charms at work.

"The Kings of Summer" often feels like the Boston Market our wannabe wild men use as nourishment in the forest: artificially packaged but certainly good enough to eat and still more honest than most of the summer movie season's junk food.