CRACKED Reviews: My Super Ex-Girlfriend

CRACKED Reviews: My Super Ex-Girlfriend

The one thing you will learn from My Super Ex-Girlfriend is that even when compared with "breakup sex" and "makeup sex," "superhero sex" is the roughest of all. And, well, that's about all you'll learn. My Super Ex-Girlfriend strives and fails to parody superhero flicks. It's ridden with empty jokes that don't connect, and more importantly, it's just not funny.

The movie opens with a midday jewelry store robbery. This being a superhero movie, the security is expectedly incompetent and we immediately cut to something that moves like the Tasmanian Devil and looks suspiciously like Uma Thurman. It's a superhero named G-Girl.

Next, we meet architect Matt Saunders (Luke Wilson), a prototypical nice guy with a crush on his colleague Hannah (Anna Farris). The one problem is that she dates a model who can't remember Matt, despite meeting him five times. Matt acknowledges he is a "forgettable person," which of course means that the unremarkable Luke Wilson is perfectly cast. Wilson spends the entire film raising his eyebrows and squinting, two activities that are unquestionably hard to accomplish at the same time, but which don't exactly constitute acting.



Matt's dating luck seemingly changes when he meets G-Girl's alias, Jenny Johnson, a brunette art curator who is as neurotic as they come. On Johnson's first date with Matt, she says, "I think I'm good at sex. I don't know. You decide." Things get more awkward from there, and she declares her love for him after only a handful of dates.

Jenny's idiosyncrasies not only frighten Matt but also make him realize how much he loves Hannah. He calls it off with Jenny, violating the first rule most men learn about women: Never cross a quirky woman with superpowers. In retribution, Jenny inscribes the word "Dick" on his forehead, throws his car out into the sky with "You Suck" scrawled on it and even tosses a shark at him. It's sort of unclear how these scenes are supposed to be funny, but it does seem pretty evident that director Ivan Reitman's days of making successful high budget comedies like Ghostbusters
are behind him and that any future laughs from the Reitman camp will be coming from his son (Thank You for Smoking writer/director, Jason).

The only redeemable part of this film is Uma Thurman, who nails the role of an angry ex-girlfriend. She adds spice to a misguided production, but her feistiness makes you wonder why she ever falls so hard for the bland Matt in the first place. How does an average Joe get the fun, hot superhero? We're sure bland architects the world over are dying to know.
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