It’s a fairly wonderful thing that in a series that so specifically explores the power of change, evolution, and fear of the new and different, strong elements occasionally do survive.

The first two X-Men movies (helmed by “Usual Suspects” director Brian Singer) drew their strength from the famously feral amnesiac loner Wolverine, then gave rise to a subsequent and precipitous mutation into two thoroughly craptastic sequels (not helmed by Singer). The weakness of this strain ultimately proved fatal, making room for a superior line to begin to flourish. Among the enduring mysteries that Singer’s first films set into motion was the gentlemanly rivalry between its key father figures: the wealthy telepath Professor Charles Xavier, and Eric Lehnsherr, a holocaust survivor born with the ability to control all things metal, hence known by his codename “Magneto.”

Outside all the blast and bombast one would expect from a superhero blockbuster bonanza like “X-Men,” many of those films’ greatest moments of tension came from simple conversations between this pair about the problems of conformity, racial superiority, and the morality of action in their relatively and equally opposed philosophies. Nicely illustrated by the chessboard that’s so often set between them, it was clear that these men had a history of mutual admiration, but had fallen to completely different sides of a complicated and possibly insoluble argument.

Singer has been accused of over thinking his movies, but his considerate, respectful approach to some admittedly cornball material is exactly what has leveled his works above so much of the superhero fare that came before it. Having left the franchise at its height (to pursue a lifelong dream of working with “Superman”), he now returns as producer. Though putting Matthew Vaughn in the director’s chair (he’s no slouch himself behind a camera—he brought us last year’s superversive “Kick-Ass” and the bare-knuckled “Layer Cake” before that), “X-Men: First Class” has Singer’s fingerprints all over it. Focusing on the adventures of Professor X and Magneto in their youths, the series boldly steps back into the early 1960s, illustrating how their friendship arose as they assembled the first mutant super team and how the threats they fought together ultimately tore their brotherhood apart. 

James McAvoy (“Atonement,” “Last King of Scotland”) and Michael Fassbender (“Jane Eyre,” “Inglorious Basterds”) step into the younger shoes of the formidable Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan, who originated the roles as seasoned old soldiers. It turns out both are perfectly equipped to rekindle the pair’s chemistry, adding a youthful vigor to the mythology and very effectively deepening the dynamic created by their predecessors. McAvoy brings a sexy, charming intellectualism to Xavier the younger, and Fassbender is a flat-out badass as a globe-hopping Nazi-hunter bent on wringing bloody revenge from the bastards who stole his family from him. Though making no apparent attempt to ape the distinctive linguistic or physical styles of their elders, the characters are immediately recognizable, and the friction between their two very different world views is as engaging as ever.

Putting these two front and center is not the only thing the filmmakers got right. Though the film has no lack of speed, invention, missile fights, shapely shape-shifters and fire-spitting bug people, they allow for the more cerebral themes of self discovery and ethical dilemma to pervade in just the right proportion. Vaughn deploys the musical score, much as he did in “Kick-Ass,” like a prowling, growling tiger. Also, his vision of the early ’60s Cold War setting is a surprisingly good fit for the action, owing as much to “Mad Men” as “Mad Men” owes to Sean Connery’s James Bond episodes—with a suitably uncomfortable degree of thin ties, heavy drinking, and ambient misogyny intact. 

Our villain, played with sneering arrogance by Kevin Bacon, cruises around in a decked-out submarine HQ that’s roughly one shag carpet from belonging in an Austin Powers movie (that’s a good thing), and casting “Mad Men” ice queen January Jones as the villain’s diamond-hard right-hand girl Emma Frost is right next to genius. This movie might not answer the question of whether or not she can act, but she looks damn fine in (and occasionally out of) all those fab white outfits. 

In the comic book realm, it’s pretty well accepted—considered necessary, even—that favorite characters and plotlines will be recycled, reinterpreted, and generally rewritten along the way.  Over the decades that these books are produced, the revolving door of writers, producers and artists must walk a tightrope between forwarding the arcs of their central characters in new and unexpected ways, while preserving a certain status quo to feed their readers’ craving for those key stories and relationships that inevitably rise in popular appetite. 

Now in its fifth installment, the X-Men series faces many of the same long-form storytelling challenges. As a culture, we may have been spoiled by the success of HBO series like “The Sopranos” and “Deadwood,” which come prepackaged with teams that see the stories through from beginning to end, providing a level of uninterrupted continuity that big screen filmmaking, as capricious as it is, can rarely afford. The X series has surely suffered from this, but Singer’s return pays healthy homage not only to the pen and ink source material, but also to the now considerable number of hours of screen time that the universe he constructed occupies. By avoiding a slavish loyalty to small details, choosing to jettison that which hasn’t been working, carefully picking just the cherries they need to set up distinct conflicts between a broad range of beloved players, and focusing on repossessing the tone, themes and depth that made the first two X movies great, he and his team have definitely shown that superiority is a really groovy thing.