I don’t feel anger, embarrassment, or even ambivalence. I think what I feel about a movie like Fantastic Four is actually pity.
This is a film that was dead before it even arrived. Already, Fantastic Four’s dismal performance could lead to as much as a $60 million loss for Fox. The internet being what it is, there have been thousands of words written about what ultimately killed this movie -- rumors and whispers and even disownment from the director himself before the movie’s release is rarely a good marketing strategy. And yet, I can’t help but see something strange and different and intriguing flickering at the heart of this mess.
Fantastic Four is yet another reboot of the Marvel property leased to Fox before Marvel became the juggernaut it is today (not unlike Sony and the rights to Spider-Man). To hold onto the rights, Fox must every so often do something with the Fantastic Four property. So instead of Jessica Alba in a wig, we now get Kate Mara in a wig. The rest of the movie ultimately comes across as standard superhero origin fluff -- four gifted people, in their scientific exploration to do good, become endowed with freaky superpowers and yada yada yada.
This is what Fox wants us to digest. But look past the glistening special effects and fresh faces and I see something infinitely more alluring. There are pockets of artistry that appear in this gloomy, sour grump of a movie, like fresh lilies floating on a pond of excrement. The wunderkind director, Josh Trank, builds the first two-thirds of the story like a Jenga tower of angst and horror. There’s a searing jealousy that hints at a volatile love triangle. There are horrific ramifications of discovering new superpowers, like waking up to find your entire body engulfed in flames, or feeling your body twisted and frozen into an inhuman shape by immovable rocks. There’s even a sequence with the villain that gets as frightening and gory as any superhero film probably ever will. Trank’s occasionally inspired images and sequences deserved a far more supportive and courageous creative environment.
I don’t doubt that some dissatisfaction voiced from either Trank or Fox is true. Trank probably is a talented but arrogant brat; and Fox probably is a fearful but practical corporation. But what I find most interesting in all of this is the final product that was delivered to the public. It’s abundantly clear that Fox had a heavy head in re-shooting, re-tooling, and basically re-engineering the film’s entire third act. This is a film that not only looks cobbled together, but actually feels like the Frankenstein’s monster of many, many people.
Let’s try a little exercise. Fantastic Four is listed with a runtime of 100 minutes, which is pretty generous. I would clock it at more like 90 minutes, excluding credits. In a standard superhero movie nowadays, the audience can usually expect at least three large action set-pieces. These usually coincide with 1) the rise of the villain, 2) the hero’s first confrontation with the villain, ending in defeat, and 3) the final showdown. I know these are extremely crude outlines, but more often than not, superhero movies don’t veer too far away from this formula.
At about the 75 minute mark of 2012’s The Avengers, a film that almost perfectly follows this framework, this is what happens:
This is a film that was dead before it even arrived. Already, Fantastic Four’s dismal performance could lead to as much as a $60 million loss for Fox. The internet being what it is, there have been thousands of words written about what ultimately killed this movie -- rumors and whispers and even disownment from the director himself before the movie’s release is rarely a good marketing strategy. And yet, I can’t help but see something strange and different and intriguing flickering at the heart of this mess.
Fantastic Four is yet another reboot of the Marvel property leased to Fox before Marvel became the juggernaut it is today (not unlike Sony and the rights to Spider-Man). To hold onto the rights, Fox must every so often do something with the Fantastic Four property. So instead of Jessica Alba in a wig, we now get Kate Mara in a wig. The rest of the movie ultimately comes across as standard superhero origin fluff -- four gifted people, in their scientific exploration to do good, become endowed with freaky superpowers and yada yada yada.
This is what Fox wants us to digest. But look past the glistening special effects and fresh faces and I see something infinitely more alluring. There are pockets of artistry that appear in this gloomy, sour grump of a movie, like fresh lilies floating on a pond of excrement. The wunderkind director, Josh Trank, builds the first two-thirds of the story like a Jenga tower of angst and horror. There’s a searing jealousy that hints at a volatile love triangle. There are horrific ramifications of discovering new superpowers, like waking up to find your entire body engulfed in flames, or feeling your body twisted and frozen into an inhuman shape by immovable rocks. There’s even a sequence with the villain that gets as frightening and gory as any superhero film probably ever will. Trank’s occasionally inspired images and sequences deserved a far more supportive and courageous creative environment.
I don’t doubt that some dissatisfaction voiced from either Trank or Fox is true. Trank probably is a talented but arrogant brat; and Fox probably is a fearful but practical corporation. But what I find most interesting in all of this is the final product that was delivered to the public. It’s abundantly clear that Fox had a heavy head in re-shooting, re-tooling, and basically re-engineering the film’s entire third act. This is a film that not only looks cobbled together, but actually feels like the Frankenstein’s monster of many, many people.
Let’s try a little exercise. Fantastic Four is listed with a runtime of 100 minutes, which is pretty generous. I would clock it at more like 90 minutes, excluding credits. In a standard superhero movie nowadays, the audience can usually expect at least three large action set-pieces. These usually coincide with 1) the rise of the villain, 2) the hero’s first confrontation with the villain, ending in defeat, and 3) the final showdown. I know these are extremely crude outlines, but more often than not, superhero movies don’t veer too far away from this formula.
At about the 75 minute mark of 2012’s The Avengers, a film that almost perfectly follows this framework, this is what happens:
Contained within an extensive action set-piece set aboard a flying supership with failing engines, Thor fights the Hulk. This is the second action set-piece of the film -- the first being the initial infighting among the Avengers team for possession of Loki, the third being the finale showdown in Manhattan. But the real takeaway from this sequence is that Loki escapes, the heroes do not prevail, and the Avengers must learn to band together before the climax.
At about the 75 minute mark of 2008’s The Dark Knight, this is what happens:
A car chase action sequence ends with the Joker being captured, only for him to quickly escape again, leaving Rachel dead and Batman defeated. This sequence is what propels the entire second half of the film, giving it narrative momentum and character motivation heading into the climax.
At about the 75 minute mark of Fantastic Four, Dr. Doom, the archvillain of the Fantastic Four universe, makes his first appearance in the entire film. Who is he? What does he want? What can he do? These are all questions glanced over so completely that before long, Dr. Doom is already threatening to annihilate the entire planet for no other reason than his own devilish deeds. Within another ten minutes, Dr. Doom is defeated and the credits are rolling. This is where the pacing -- and the overt meddling of the studio -- really falls off the tracks. The film’s villain essentially only shows up for the climax, and is then promptly dispatched. Fantastic Four is not simply awkwardly structured, it’s missing entire narrative acts, playing more like a two-act teaser for an impending sequel than an actual movie.
Sure, comparing the timestamps of films is an imprecise exercise. But it does help map out a vague outline of something that feels like it should belong there, like a phantom limb of cinema. Fantastic Four presents an interesting example because its marketing revealed a product that is largely absent on screen. There are key moments from its numerous trailers -- such as The Thing air-dropping onto a tank -- that are not in the final film; there are meteors raining down on Manhattan in its posters that are never mentioned or seen. One could almost imagine an entirely different movie based solely on the promotional material. And chances are, that movie would be better.
So what does this all mean? Fantastic Four wasn’t universally disliked because it didn’t provide three action set-pieces, although that might have helped. It didn’t garner a 9% on RottenTomatoes because it ran short or its wig department took the day off. So what went wrong? I doubt we’ll ever get a clear answer, but I suspect the culprit to be some combination of too much ego and too little time. That’s a volatile mixture that usually ends in disappointing compromises -- the artist won’t bend to the financial and logistical will of the Hollywood machine; and the studio won’t bend to the idiosyncratic and unique voice of the director. It’s a game that rarely produces a winner, and a battle that usually leaves us as the loser.
