The most interesting character by far is Dr. Doom, who has a great personal rivalry set up with Richards and an environmentalist complex over which he tries to destroy the world. These are two of many themes Fantastic Four underplays. Photos courtesy 20th Century Fox.
Everyone was wondering why they made the Human Torch (Michael B. Jordan) black, and now we know: it was a distraction tactic, a feature as the only thing even remotely interesting about this boring, grey, sad, husk of a movie.
I’ve had less boring sessions on a treadmill. I’ve genuinely had a better time at a funeral. Insects playing on a dark summer night have drawn more emotion from me, more lasting memories were made by computer crashes. This is the kind of movie that makes me question my own existence, a movie with so little going on I may as well have been staring at a blank screen for its runtime. This movie is rebooting a franchise whose first two installments were universally reviled, looked back on with hatred — after, that is, the poor soul who somehow found a reminder of them has choked the bile down. The bar was set low enough for most movies to trip over. The standard wasn’t even at half-mast — it was folded up and tucked away for the night. Par was set at “bogey.” But this new Fantastic Four, against all probability, is even worse than its gooey predecessors.
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