Monster House is a computer animated throwback to such live action Steven Spielberg productions as The Goonies and Hook, and such Spielberg-derived fare as The Monster Squad. This is only appropriate, as the film lists Spielberg among its executive producers.

The recent trend of movies that focus on the emotional lives of superheroes reaches an apogee in this comedy based on the premise that folk who can stop speeding bullets, leap tall buildings and all that stuff can’t necessarily be expected to be better adjusted than the rest of us schlubs. Luke Wilson stars as Matt, a Manhattan office worker who is more than a little surprised to find out that the girl he has just started dating, assistant gallery manager Jenny (Uma Thurman), is also superheroine G-Girl, whose exploits are the talk of the town. Jenny’s own love life hasn’t exactly been stellar, and placing her trust in Matt gives her a chance to explore some of her own sexual fantasies, which can be terrifying to a mere mortal. The terror of discovering the real meaning of “mile high club,” though, fades when Matt breaks up with her because of her jealousy and possessiveness, and she sets out to use her powers to make his life hell. Cleverly scripted to tweak both superhero clichés and romantic comedies, My Super Ex-Girlfriend knows the value of moderation. Using just enough special effects to provide eye candy without giving you a headache, director Ivan Reitman gets equal mileage out of the Manhattan settings (the best part of his two Ghostbusters movies). Wilson gets great use out of his ability to play fearful, while Thurman may be the only name actress who could pull off the combination of sexiness, nerdiness and heroic panache this role calls for. Eddie Izzard is also a delight as G-Girl’s arch nemesis Professor Bedlam, aka Barry, the guy she jilted in high school. The only off note comes from Rainn Wilson as Luke Wilson’s bozo best friend who is perpetually offering idiotic sexist advice (a cliché that should have been retired after Splash and John Candy). That aside, this is a perfect summer popcorn movie, albeit one whose sexual themes make it inappropriate for younger children (it’s closer to an R than the PG-13 it received).

Sex, Lies and Videotape was a milestone in the history of American independent movies: in 1989, it won the top award at the Cannes Film Festival and went on to become a box-office success. It made indie movies an attractive proposition for both studios and stars, because these movies could sometimes bring prestige and respect as “art-house” works with critical acclaim, and—very important—could be made for small amounts of money.