Ivan Reitman’s slipshod My Super Ex-Girlfriend is a romantic comedy from a stereotypically masculine perspective, and not only because its story about a sexy superheroine’s infatuation with an average Joe is the stuff fanboy fantasies are made of. Here, the center of attention is Uma Thurman’s leggy crime-fighter G-Girl but the tone is one of barely masked chauvinism, with Don Payne’s script trotting out men whose selfishness and caddishness is meant to be endearing, and women defined either by their idealistically sweet perfection (Anna Farris’s Hannah), nutty oversensitivity (Wanda Sykes’s sexual harassment-crazy boss), or wholesale insanity (Thurman’s do-gooder). It’s a disagreeable worldview in which males are celebrated for being sleazy and females are reduced to mock-worthy caricatures, and one unmitigated by the film’s dull reversals of traditional superhero/gender tropes.
At least in its early courtship scenes, Reitman manages to squeeze a few amusing reaction shots from Luke Wilson as his nondescript architect Matt—engaged in a relationship with mousy G-Girl alter ego Jenny Johnson—is throttled about during vigorous sex and, shortly thereafter, discovers the extraordinary true identity of his new gal pal. And Thurman remains reasonably vibrant considering that G-Girl has been conceived as a compendium of repulsive Fatal Attraction-ish clichés, the character acting like a neurotic, paranoid, jealous, needy, and vengeful lunatic without ever receiving (as does Eddie Izzard’s villainous mastermind Professor Bedlam) any contextual explanation for her behavior.
Such unpleasantness, alas, plagues this tactless dud, which—once Matt breaks things off with G-Girl—plays out like a more one-sided, special effects-laden rendition of The Break-Up replete with a raft of squandered supporting players (including Farris as Matt’s true soul-mate and The Office’s Rainn Wilson as his horndog sidekick). In a last, desperate attempt to quell his deranged ex’s wrath, Matt agrees to carry out an act of treachery so self-centered that the film finally seems on the verge of castigating him for his general jerkiness. As befitting My Super Ex-Girlfriend’s men-are-from-earth-women-are-from-planet-psycho ethos, however, this potentially corrective turn of events is swiftly jettisoned in favor of a fierce catfight over the bland Matt’s utterly unworthy heart.
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