(This feature was originally published in the April 2006 issue of Premiere.)

Jon Heder and Aaron Ruell in Fox Searchlight's Napoleon Dynamite—2004

The first thing people want to know about Jon Heder is whether or not he's as crusty as Napoleon Dynamite. Is he, for instance, the kind of person who would really take a tater tot out of his pocket and start eating it? Probably not. However, even with his '70s shag, flip-flops, and a light coat of foundation left over from a day's work on the set, Heder, 28, is decidedly Napoleonic. There is no mistaking the closely set eyes, Dentyne-size teeth, and tendency to mouth-breathe.

Within minutes of chomping into a chicken parmesan sandwich at Jerry's Famous Deli in Encino, Heder is spotted, like a moose in the wilderness, by the entire waitstaff. "I'm sorry to interrupt you," says the Latino host working the graveyard shift, "but I need to ask you for two autographs, for my sister and brother." Heder dutifully signs and resumes eating. "I still get caught by surprise, like, 'Why do they recognize me?' " he says. "I feel like I look so different, but I remember thinking, 'If this movie becomes big, I will always be that guy.' "

It's safe to say that Napoleon fever has blossomed into an epidemic. It is the cult movie of the MySpace generation, as beloved by frat boys as it is by junior-high hipsters with buttons on their backpacks that read "Sincerity is the New Irony." Since its premiere at the 2004 Sundance Film Festival and release that summer (it grossed $45 million, more than one hundred times its budget, and the DVD has sold more than six million copies), the movie has inspired everything from Halloween costumes and a line of "Vote for Pedro" T-shirts sold at Wal-Mart to action figures and a talking pen. ("Freakin' idiot!" and "You guys are retarded!" are featured catchphrases.)

Last year, the Idaho state legislature even passed a resolution commending the filmmakers for helping boost tourism and economic growth in the tiny town of Preston, where the movie was shot. Among its findings: "The Preston High School administration and staff, particularly the cafeteria staff, have enjoyed notoriety and worldwide attention."

Heder, meanwhile, has experienced enough notoriety and attention for a lifetime, though he doesn't always enjoy it. "I love it when people tell me to quote something," he says sarcastically, scarfing down some extra-greasy onion rings. "They'll go, 'Say "Flippin' idiot." ' I'm like [in his regular voice], 'Flippin' idiot.' 'No, DO IT!' And I'm like, 'Whoa, you are not going to tell me what to do. You will take what I give you, and you will enjoy it.' "

He says he sympathizes with parents and teachers who have to listen to their kids endlessly mimic lines from the movie: "I read about it. Like, 'You know what? It was great, but shut up already. Enough with the ligers and the goshes and the dangs and the flippin' sweets.' And I totally understand."

Clearly, the actor who stole scenes as a spiritual guru in last year's Just Like Heaven is ready to move on—just not too far. In this month's comedy The Benchwarmers, he, David Spade, and Rob Schneider start a baseball team to compete against Little League squads. (It was producer Adam Sandler's idea to cast Heder as an outfielder who'd rather be at home eating mac-and-cheese with mom.) This summer, he voices a character in Robert Zemeckis's animated Monster House. And in fall's School for Scoundrels, he'll play a milquetoast meter-reader who enrolls in a confidence-building course, taught by a total shmuck (Billy Bob Thornton), to win the girl of his dreams. (Also in development: roles opposite Will Ferrell, in the ice-skating comedy Blades of Glory, and Diane Keaton, in Mama's Boy.)

Mark Ruffalo and Jon Heder in Dreamworks' Just Like Heaven—2005

It seems everyone wants to bottle up some Eau de Heder. For a guy who's only starred in one movie, he has cast quite a spell on studio executives. Heder, his identical twin, Dan, and their older brother, Doug—all of whom studied film at Brigham Young University (the twins both graduated with degrees in computer animation)—recently signed a first-look deal with Universal to develop star vehicles for Jon as well as animation projects.

As for the name of their production company, Greasy Entertainment, it grew out of the family lexicon, and it seems to bear no relation to the dictionary definition of "greasy."

"Who's greasy?" Heder asks. "My brothers are greasy. People who duct-tape fenders that fall off their car back on—that's greasy." He then applies the grease-o-meter to Napoleon's world: "Kip is greasy. Rico is greasy and creamy. I'm giving too much—this is our language that I do not utter in the presence of mere mortals."

The family's colorful vernacular is one by-product of its Mormon beliefs—no cussing allowed. Heder almost turned down Scoundrels due to some "R-rated" language in the original script. To his surprise, Weinstein Company cohead Bob Weinstein and writer-director Todd Phillips (Old School) came back with a cleaner draft. "Quentin Tarantino can't say, 'Listen, you bad guy, you.' They've got to use the MF word," Weinstein says. "But Jon pointed out to us that [our] movie has a PG-13 feel. He said the language was in conflict with the characters: They're using those words, and that's not who they are." (As for the Bad Santa himself, "I think it's kind of refreshing to see somebody who has values in the movie business," says Thornton. "But at the same time, he's a really loose kid. It's not like he's some uptight religious guy.")