Fantastic Four: First Steps is an emotionally arresting, and visually appealing antidote to the complex muddle of so many recent superhero films
Marvel Studios’ fortunes have taken a turn for the worse of late. After a number of dramatic failures at the box office – from Kraven the Hunter to the disastrous Captain America retread – Fantastic Four: First Steps might change that. It is a convincing, emotionally arresting, and visually appealing antidote to the complex muddle of so many recent superhero films.
Directed by Wandavision filmmaker Matt Shakman with real 60s flourish, the story is set in a slick retro-futurist New York. Living in a mid-century apartment with a conversation pit and some teak furniture that would make Don Draper green with envy, the Fantastic Four are already superheroes of worldwide renown. The film skips past the origin story, recounting the basics via a clever series of old-fashioned television flourishes, grainy 35mm film footage, and a news-style patrician voiceover.
In case you don’t know: these brave astronauts suffered an accident in space that changed their DNA forever. Husband and wife duo Dr Reed Richards (aka Mr Fantastic, or Stretch, played by Pedro Pascal) and Sue Storm (The Invisible Woman, played by a brilliant Vanessa Kirby) are joined by Sue’s brother Johnny Storm (The Human Torch, played by Joseph Quinn) and their best friend Ben – better known as The Thing (Ebon Moss-Bacharach). They’ve had good news: Sue is pregnant, and while the couple is intrigued about whether their child will have as-yet-unknown superpowers, they are blissfully happy.
But just as the four are settled into a groove of what seems to be Beatlemania-esque public adoration, disaster strikes. A sentinel from a distant planet – you might recognise her as the Silver Surfer (here played by an impassive Julia Garner) – comes to warn them that a space-god, Galactus, the devourer of worlds, plans to eat Planet Earth. The Four rally worldwide support to defeat the existential and near-unstoppable threat of Galactus, but not before he tries to take their precious new infant.
This is an incredibly stylish film. Every 60s eyeliner flick and bubble record player has been filtered straight through an early Bond film.
Each performance feels believable and emotionally grounded, particularly the central bond between Pedro Pascal and Vanessa Kirby, who have beauty and chemistry to spare. Cleverly deploying its mother and baby in a series of imperiled situations – right up to and including a zero-gravity childbirth on a rocket – the film knows just when to up the ante. It’s earnest – avoiding the trap of too-clever dialogue – but with a few quips thrown in.
Frankly, this is the first Marvel movie I’ve seen in recent years that feels it has genuine emotional stakes – simple, straightforward, family-oriented ones, though they are. I was gripped, moved even. Basically – and this is something I didn’t think a superhero film could achieve for me anymore – I had a wonderful time.
