In the anticipated flop of Marvel's "first family
superhero" movie Fantastic Four, the latest reboot had me at its first
half, wide-eyed and eagerly consuming backstories usually unseen from the
claptrap of superhero blockbusters. Sure, it's great with what stood Fantastic
Four's opening apart from other Marvel heroes like Ironman and the rest of The
Avengers. There was a curiosity to its origin story, made up by a new cast of
relatively green actors (Miles Teller, Kate Mara, Michael B. Jordan) to the blockbusters.
But somewhere between the middling action and confusing onscreen chemistry
among its characters, I gave up. It felt almost embarrassing to follow through;
not least uncomfortable that its brilliant cast had to makeover an entire
franchise with what little was offered to them in its screenplay. Wait, would
there even be another movie?
By now, there are four. Not of the superhero members Reed, Sue,
Johnny, and Ben, whose powers make one hell of a potential, but four desperate
movies that have all but left viewers disgruntled with lackluster results. I
know, their powers are almost-lame for the effects, with an elastic rubber
belt, a disappearing woman, a walking torch, and a rock. But
those of us who aren't familiar with Marvel's Fantastic Four comics would be
aware of Tim Story's 2005 campy make of the superhero quartet. They were bad,
but they survived. It’s the one where, with Ioan Gruffard, Jessica Alba, Chris
Evans and the dimly known Michael Chiklis playing the equally, physically
unrecognizable Thing, I wished I caught Wolverine Origins, instead. Though,
this version shouldn't have followed suit.
Unlike with its predecessor, director Josh Trank, who carved a
pretty good "superhero" film Chronicle out of the hand-held cam genre,
succeeded a different initial take. First, he did away with the caricature of
superheroes. Besides keeping their powers, almost everything else about our
beloved members were refreshingly offbeat from its all-familiar plot: viewers
were invited to new onscreen bromance between Reed Richards and Ben Grimm,
something not offered before, but captured decently over the span of their
boyhood, where interactions over a teleporting machine introduced early into
the film as a twelve-year-old’s creation (scoff) became the catalyst for the
movie's only adult space action. Dr. Franklin Storm, represented by actor Reg.
E. Cathey, also adopted The Invisible Woman, who was played by Kate Mara. Furthering
the distance from the original, the cast travels inter-dimensionally, instead
of eating radioactive rays for breakfast from a spaceship. Stretching our
imagination beyond this universe, the
members stepped foot onto an unknown CGI-splayed Planet Zero where they were to
meet freak accidents that would then uniquely alter them irrevocably, therefore
giving them their "powers". While we've all heard the last one before
with how superheroes would spring from their pedestrian lives into glorified
heroic ventures, for one, everything from the comics felt too camp, too unreal
for modern theaters, as if we were supposed to empathise the fact that freakish
accidents could be a blessing in disguise if it's almost-Godsend powers. For
Trank, 2015 gave us enough resource for a humanised plot to tap on our
imagination for what is to be wished that they needn’t have to suffer the
dangers of inter-dimensional travel. You get the backstory: If you can't insure
an unpredictable rally of loyal comic fans, you can't insure space travel.
I almost didn't want them to transform, as Trank cleverly
dovetailed their origins to a terrifying sci-fi mishap. I loved the far-out
concept of Planet Zero, contrary to reviewers who felt that it looked too much
like Mars-- on an amateur's green screen. I loved, with electrifying verdure
that traced lava patterns on the craters, how ignorant the characters were to
its omen when they took things into their own hands with the teleporter after
getting half-assed drunk, embittered by the fact that history's Neil Armstrong
took credit for real science. "Let's get a closer look!" Says one
intoxicated scientist Reed Richards, who should be a public warning that
drinking on the job is always dangerous. Most of all, I loved how Susan Storm
didn't even go there, but got her powers anyway from helping her beloved friends.
I loved how accidental director Trank made the whole thing look, which
eventually became the entire movie. A wreck.
It was good, at first. It made me love my superheroes again with
tidbits thrown in here and there about rewriting characters with a grittier
script, as if growing up should not age me from loving my juvenile
hobby. But all that fell away when reality hit harder than, well, everything
about it. From the poor action sequence, to the “ah?” illogical storytelling,
the only fantastic thing about the movie was its fans, who filled the theaters
full last night. Apart from scathing reviews that I shall not expatiate because
everything that could have been said and spat about the movie has already been
eloquently written to tear it apart, nobody talked about the groundwork that is
its film score, a fantastic rhythmic harmony by Philip Glass who, may I assume,
was brought onto the project because everything else was a prompt that I should
quit my superheroes, and grow up after its fourth attempt.
Of course, Fantastic Four is not ridiculous because it's bad. It's
bad because it's too easily one of the worst works of movies I've seen.
To note, I'm not faulting the opportunities it could have exploited, given its
great preface for a darker narrative about modern superheroes. (Remember how
well Nolan's Batman did?) I'm lambasting the fact that it's a result produced
from intentional meddling by the studio guys, to and fro with its director,
which isn't anyone's business in the first place, until you make it so public I
can't watch a movie without tagging a bad name to it. What's awful about it is
that it punishes an audience who's paid money to watch a work fraught with
disagreement between its makers and studio superiors. It's like watching a
final year project of a movie that has suffered the critique of the unbendable,
criteria-abiding lecturer policing as high-eternity mentor. It's as we all
know, "artistic integrity" sacrificed for good grades. Or in Trank's
state of duress, for saving Fox's face/rights.
Just after reviews flooded in, somewhat mutating the movie into a
blockbuster scorn today, Trank took to his personal Twitter account to profess
that he'd a better version of it, but we won't get to see it. Insinuating that
Fox had a hand in his movie, nobody cares. Or, at least I don't. In fact, I
don't want my money back; take it, I signed up for it despite early buzz that
the movie was going to drop with a silent thud later. I was optimistically
adamant about reviews because I didn't even like Marvel's The Avengers anyway.
Superhero movies, which have become a thing of a brisk trade, aren't usually
good movies on their own. They're overdone with huge earth-shattering
explosions and underwhelmed by little expositions. And Fantastic Four was going
to be my saving grace for the latter. What Fantastic Four succeeded in was
neither, due to its own off-screen dilemma.
Thanks Josh Trank, you not only distanced yourself from a work you
produced, you turned tables on the studio that granted you access to everyone's
highly-favored squad of family superheroes. Granted, you're a talent, but like your Reed Richards who
dumped his friends after the accident because he felt "no good for
anybody", you played Martyrdom to nauseating effect this time, which really reminds me
of that one group member who discredits teamwork just because the pitch was bad.
Nobody likes a downer and you made a fantastic case.
