‘Four’ a Fantastic Flop

It happens every year, the blockbuster that everyone rushes out to see but winds up producing yet another generation of film fans promising never again to be taken in by the razzle-dazzle of Hollywood's hype machine. It's taken far longer than usual, but that inevitable moment has finally arrived. The Fantastic Four boasts spectacles and thrills on par with another Marvel Comics money-maker, X-Men, but ultimately delivers an entertainment experience on par with two hours of tinkering with a clump of silly putty.

An ominous sign for this fantastic flop appeared in 1994, when for the first time the popular comic book characters were brought to film. But that low-budgeted project was never meant to be released (much to the chagrin of the actors involved), and only came about as a ploy for the studio to maintain its rights to a future version of the film. That original movie is now a virtual classic of cornball cinema, and this newly released version, though not half as cheesy, deserved an equal level of disrespect.

Their isn't a plot worth mentioning, at least not until the last twenty minutes or so when the seriously clichéd Mr. Doom finally becomes the villain he should have been half-way through the film. Up to that point we are riveted to our seats by a cosmic storm that fricassees five friends (one of whom becomes Mr. Doom), a dull romantic rekindling, and The Thing's sorrowful quest for normalcy. What's missing? How about a well-developed standoff between the good and the evil; some fight scenes to show off the wonders of the Four; and that philosophy undergirding all comics fare, justice for those who get none. Nowhere do those concepts even begin to materialize, leaving us with an annoying realization that Fantastic Four isn't really a comic book movie at all.

What we get instead is a film grossly overcommitted to its comedy. Sure Chris Evans (Cellular) is irresistibly funny as the Human Torch, a playboy extraordinaire who despite his fiery form is always at the ready with a razor sharp quip, but it soon becomes depressingly apparent that the film will never move beyond its comic juvenilia. The amazing abilities of the Fantastic Four become the butt of a running joke that is appealed to with a regularity that taxes every ounce of patience. Mr. Fantastic's elasticity reaches for funnies, not criminals. The Things does very little bruising of bad guys but lots of barking in bars. And of course, the Invisible Woman, played by the lovely loined Jessica Alba (Sin City), becomes a comical tease, disrobing to embarrassment as she tries to master her newfound powers.

One might think that a summer comic book movie buoyed by such high levels of hype might at the very least gorge viewers with heaps of action content, but Fantastic Four tends to abstain. Admittedly, the of lack powerhouse sequences go almost unnoticed, courtesy of the film's brisk pace and an occasional punch in the gut or blast through a concrete wall. But even when the intensity does spike, what we get is deeply contrived and frustratingly standard.

The real disappointment, however, lies in the film's graphical might. Its best visuals are already exposed by the film's trailer, and the lack of any significant additions speaks volumes as to why the film's budgetary information has to this point gone unreleased. Most disappointing is Mr. Fantastic, who takes on the form of a blue-suited rubber caricature, stretching and molding like the offspring between bad CGI and a soggy spaghetti noodle.

To sum it up, the Fantastic Four so badly confuses comics with comedy that it shouldn't be called a superhero movie at all, just a tiresome gag factory with a hearty helping of shlock to go along with some hot-buttered popcorn.