Share the Pain with Mitch and Monica

Mitch's Review: Fantastic Four

I don’t normally read into movie promos. When I see a Fantastic Four trailer with a guy covered in fire flying through the sky, that’s what I’m going to expect from the film in question. Blue force fields throwing people around? An evil rich guy blowing stuff up in disguise? Okay, that last one sounded a bit familiar, but source material is source material. As far as I know, the comic is four people, decked out in matching uniforms and matching can-do USA attitudes flying around in jets and such, battling aliens and Earth’s own evildoers while saving all kinds of innocent lives. I picture it all being very exaggerated and dramatic constantly. To be honest, I didn’t really want to see a movie about magical mutants jumping and flying around, blowing things up, wearing crazy costumes, and battling some idiot (or idiots) wearing even crazier getup while destroying everything in sight for no good reason.* I went because my ticket was half-price, and I wanted to mock the inevitable crap that was about to flood my vision with my favorite partner in crime when it comes to these things. For the two odd hours that I partook of Fantastic Four, I was surprised. I was amazed at what I was seeing on the screen, but even moreso what I wasn’t. The advertisements for Fantastic Four blared with nonstop action and excitement, plot and adrenaline, but the heart and soul of FF lies in its core of unspoken intrigue.
*For this kind of action, rent Spider-Man

An early example of this is Reed Richards (Ioan Gruffudd), brilliant scientist. Of what you might ask? The film doesn’t go into his area of expertise. To some this is a flaw, a technique to avoid time-consuming ‘backstory’, but Fantastic Four has loftier intentions where Mr. Richards and friends are concerned. It seems that he, and his friends in tow, are all pawns in Victor von Doom (Julian McMahon) ‘s sinister machinations, but this is not so. Richards seems stiff and bored with what he’s saying to VD,* even though his face is animated, almost as if he was pretending to be interested in something he knows is embarrassing and implausible. The truth is just below the surface, where Richards’s own manipulation is taking place. He is obviously using Doom for his ability to launch Richards and his buddies into space, and has planned for every detail, as seen by the look of false surprise on his face when it’s announced that Sue Storm (Jessica Alba) and her brother Johnny (Chris Evans) would be joining him and his friend, Ben Grimm (Michael Chilkis). This isn’t bad acting, or a good actor fighting the urge to write his own dialogue; this is Richards’s own façade, masterfully plotted and cunningly realized.
*Try not to laugh.

The film’s seemingly inane conversations leading up to and on board of von Doom’s space platform (again, the purpose of this is left unknown, further adding to the mystery and intrigue behind Richards’s intentions; perhaps he built it, as well…)* are not the time-killing filler that they appear to be. They are, in fact, coded conversations wherein Richards and Grimm, who knows exactly what his friend is up to, intentionally foreshadow the movie’s later events. This is a great example of subtlety in screenplay; moviemakers should turn to this film in the future when planning elaborate plot devices and carefully measured characters, not to mention the raw talent it takes to hide that under such a strong illusion of ineptitude.
* They are studying a space band of radiation, like The Nexus from Star Trek: Generations I suppose, In order to prevent aging…or something.

A defining moment in the movie is the scene on a large, traffic-filled bridge where the team uses their powers to help others for the first time. This links back with the scenes earlier where Mr. Fantastic (Richards) discovers his powers and uses them with comfort and control, if with another transparent look of surprise on his face. The most important detail that cements the film’s subplot, no, plot of Richards using everyone necessary to get the power he sought after and prepared for so carefully. How else could every one of his dress shirts and blazers stretch with his arm, no matter the distance? On the bridge, he reaches his entire body to an enormous length and his clothes, supposedly his normal street attire, stretch with him. He isn’t surprised by this, and for a scientist who specializes in everything, that spells out the careful construction of the material himself. Richards likely enlisted his teammates in making these clothes, as none of them are startled by the incredible elasticity of the garments either.*
*Or they were too busy to notice.

Also on that bridge, along with numerous other times in this film, several, probably dozens, of bystanders are likely killed in the miscellaneous skirmishes and traffic accidents that the Fantastic Four either cause or fail to prevent. Only once, when The Thing demolishes someone’s car to save a suicidal person who might just as well jump once the police leave does he check to see if the person
whose car he totaled a moment earlier isn't dead from his efforts. Throughout the rest of the film, collateral damage is almost always present but never discussed or worried about. This shows the cold determination of our heroes, but also their frailty. They suppress the feelings of rage and frustration they feel about these needless deaths and, instead of talking about it or preventing such casualties in the future, they compensate by arguing for much of the film about virtually nothing. This is not the result of laughable pacing or a hackneyed, juvenile screenplay posing as a superhero movie; it is yet another brilliant subplot skillfully submerged, waiting to be discovered by only the most diligent viewers.

Another theme presents itself especially strong here, though it has been recurring throughout the film: the male actors’, especially Gruffudd and McMahon, penchant for heavy facial makeup.* This is not stage makeup; the close-ups reveal Revlon commercial-level amounts on the two professional actors’ faces. At first it was difficult not to be amused by what I perceived to be a glaring, and repeated, mistake by the makeup department. After minutes upon minutes of staring at close-up after close-up while the cleverly distracting nonsense played itself out to hide the true plot from the viewer, I realized that I had, once again, sold Fantastic Four short. The make-up wasn’t an error, and it wasn’t in character. It is a statement, likely on behalf of the director, of the gender confusion of today’s society. Machismo takes a backseat to soft pretty-boys and Englishmen known for their accented voices are forced to drop their country’s dialect for a white-washed “American” accent. In these troubling times of studio pressure, director Tim Story is making a bold statement that his characters, so far removed from being the men who they are, have become androgynous in the process.** Effeminate tones, heavy make-up, yet they play heterosexual characters who aren’t seen cross-dressing onscreen, nor is there comment made about their facial products in the backtalk-ridden script; director Story is showing us all his courage in taking on such a controversial topic, and I for one salute him.
* Mr. Fantastic does resemble a raccoon for much of the time.
** The skin tight unitards don’t help matters.

On the note of makeup and statements, it first stood out to me in this expensive, CGI-heavy film that The Thing (Ben Grimm [Michael Chilkis]) would have such a phony-looking latex bodysuit, supposedly hard as stone, but visibly creasing in a dozen spots in every one of his numerous close-ups. This is, in fact, just another wrinkle, so to speak, in the statement visionary director Story is saying with The Thing. He is ugly. He is shoddy. But those details are merely there in such heft to illustrate his difference from the other members of the team, most notably Johnny, who possesses impeccable looks as well as a healthy chunk of the film’s budget helping him self-immolate whenever he feels like it. This is not a mere isolation, as the film seemingly pushes heavily every time The Thing is onscreen for 80% of the film. This is the power of freakishness. The latex wrinkles captured my attention much more than a human being on fire and flying around. We, as a society, are drawn to the freaks and rejects, like his costume and uncomfortably overbearing lines filled with self-pity and reactionary anger. In a lesser film, this would be amazingly repetitive and horribly distracting from what was supposed to be a film about the Fantastic Four being the Fantastic Four. Luckily, director Tim Story would never allow this to happen on his watch. Grimm’s lines are best taken as an out-of-focus blur, allowing the emotion to overtake the actual words and supplementing Chilkis’s intentionally ‘bad’ job with acting of your own, in your mind. When I tried this halfway through the film, it improved greatly, and I truly felt that I was experiencing Story’s true vision for the film. Pretty blonde fiancée? Not good enough; The Thing deserves someone more exotic and vulnerable, so that he can easily overpower her if need be. A petite blind African-American is a perfect match to this description, taking the formerly average Grimm, saddled with his oppressive, uncaring shrew, and giving him, with his new freakish state, a total puppet for his frequently vented emotions. It’s a heartwarming statement about America, and I for one will never forget it.

Another great metaphor easily mistaken for tripe incarnate is von Doom himself. It doesn’t take a great leap of reasoning to see that a selfish, tough-as-nails billionaire turning to the hardest metallic alloy ever known is symbolism. I groaned like the rest of the theater at this amateurish attempt at depth until I remembered what film I was watching. This is no American Beauty, with its frequent and obvious symbolism in every frame; this is Fantastic Four! Sure enough, there is more to Doom than most have guessed. This is best introduced by mentioning a scene when Doom, finally possessing the amount of electricity that he desired for most of the movie, fires a stream of electricity at an enemy, causing a soccer ball-sized hole to appear in the man’s midsection before he falls to the ground. Scientists may giggle at the cause and effect impossibilities of this, but I would tell them to look deeper. Doctor Doom is, at this point, turning to metal, the opposite of plastic. He is broke and has nowhere to turn. What does he need that The Thing unwittingly (…or not…) grants him? A charge. What is the first thing he does with this newfound power? Gives to others. The victim in question, one who broke Doom’s finances with a malevolent sense of satisfaction, is obviously a hollow individual. Doom was as well, but now he is happy and proud of himself. He does with what he has all that he can in that parking garage: he makes the ‘victim’ whole. * Doom loves that man, and gave all that the man could take and more in the name of that brotherhood. He wished to share that with the Fantastic Four by the end of the film, but they had their own sense of group unity by then, with Ben’s issues and their guilt calloused over with the bravado that the trailers suggested. Doom was sent back to the land of his birth, the land that sent him GI Joe memorabilia (that of its biggest male sex symbol, Destro, which Doom had enshrined before donning himself…hmm…), and the Four had a party to further display to themselves and all of the guests, their own superiority to normal people; no one on that ship got in a word edgewise when one of the Four were speaking; it was reminiscent of classic and modern classic ganster films, yet another mark of greatness for Mr. Story.
*Too many puns…growing weak…

The trailers showed explosions, most of which were either at the very end or at the bridge. The film could have been superheroes fighting evil in a cinematic fashion, and using their power to protect the innocent and better their community. It could have contained obvious romance between the characters, supposedly poignant dialogue, commercially effective pacing, and a bankable score, but Tim Story took the high road. He chose to bathe the film in the cleansing mire of failure and allow the audience to find their own quality where they could; it is like an Easter egg hunt, with the viewers’ imagination providing the eggs. With a dozen plot threads dangling and many more lines of dialogue serving little to no purpose, not to mention many unexplained things, especially concerning Dr. Richards’s operation, the makers of Fantastic Four have truly crafted a classic for those who know how to enjoy it. Everyone else should skip this one and watch Batman Begins again.

Grade: 100% - One shouldn't dillute such a strong recipe; it is chock full of its own dubious merits and is consistent through and through.

Stars: 2 out of 4 - Harmless, fun, and a flashy diversion with enough cute one-liners and entertaining (though not necessarily good) performances to counterbalance the crap...well some of it...