The Fantastic Four: First Steps has crash-landed in cinemas with the sort of earnest swagger one expects from a Marvel machine determined to polish its tarnished shield. Directed with a competent hand by Matt Shakman, it’s a film that knows its job: to reboot a franchise with enough retro charm and CGI gloss to make you forget the last time this quartet flopped. And, by Jove, it mostly succeeds—though not without a few cosmic hiccups that leave one pining for what might have been, particularly in the casting of a certain silver-skinned surfer.
The plot is a tidy affair, a kind of superhero origin story sautéed in 1960s optimism and served with a side of family dysfunction. Our Fantastic Four—Reed Richards (Pedro Pascal), Sue Storm (Vanessa Kirby), Johnny Storm (Joseph Quinn), and Ben Grimm (Ebon Moss-Bachrach)—are less a team than a squabbling book club thrust into a cosmic crisis. The script, mercifully devoid of the usual Marvel quip-fest, leans into their human frailties: Reed’s obsessive intellect, Sue’s quiet strength, Johnny’s hot-headed idiocy, and Ben’s gruff loyalty. It’s a dynamic that works, largely because the cast plays it straight, not winking at the camera like they’re auditioning for a sitcom. The villain, Galactus, looms with appropriate grandeur, voiced by Ralph Fiennes in a tone that suggests he’s reading the Book of Revelation while sipping a particularly fine Bordeaux. The story clips along, balancing heart, humour, and a few well-timed explosions, never overstaying its welcome at a lean 108 minutes. It’s not Citizen Kane, but it’s a damn sight better than Fant4stic.
Visually, the film is a triumph of style over budget cuts. Shakman and his team conjure a retro-futuristic aesthetic that feels like Mad Men meets Star Trek—all sleek chrome, pastel jumpsuits, and glowing cosmic vistas. The Quantum Realm sequences are a kaleidoscope of color and chaos, rendered with a painterly finesse that makes you forgive the occasional CGI seam. The Fantastic Four’s powers are showcased with gleeful inventiveness: Reed’s stretchy limbs slink through scenes like a particularly ambitious yoga instructor, while Johnny’s flames dance with a pyrotechnic pizzazz that justifies the 3D ticket price. The film’s look is a love letter to Jack Kirby’s comic panels, and it’s hard not to feel a pang of nostalgia for a time when superheroes were drawn, not algorithmically assembled.
But then we come to the Silver Surfer, or rather, the Silver Surferess, played with admirable poise by Julia Garner. The decision to gender-swap Norrin Radd into Shalla-Bal is the sort of bold choice that sounds better in a pitch meeting than on the screen. Garner glides through the cosmos with ethereal grace, her silver skin gleaming like a freshly minted Oscar. Yet, there’s a nagging sense that the role demands a certain… heft, a presence that commands attention beyond mere acting chops. Enter the lament: if Marvel had to cast a female Surfer, why not Sydney Sweeney? One cannot help but imagine Ms. Sweeney, with her considerable… notable assets, bringing a gravitational pull to the role that might have eclipsed even Galactus himself. Garner’s performance is fine, but Sweeney could have been a celestial body in her own right, drawing eyes and perhaps a few gasps from the audience. Alas, we are left with a Surfer who surfs competently but doesn’t quite make the universe quiver.
In the end, The Fantastic Four: First Steps is a sturdy launchpad for Marvel’s first family, delivering a plot that hums, visuals that dazzle, and a tone that dares to take itself seriously. It’s not perfect—some dialogue clunks, and the third act leans too heavily on the usual city-smashing tropes—but it’s a welcome return to form for a franchise that’s been through more reboots than a Silicon Valley start-up. If only they’d cast Sweeney as the Surfer, we might have had a film that wasn’t just fantastic, but positively galactic.