Fantastic Four

Fantastic Four (12A)

USA 2015 100 mins Dir: Josh Trank Cast: Miles Teller, Michael B. Jordan, Jamie Bell, Kate Mara, Toby Kebbell, Reg E. Cathey, Tim Blake Nelson

Few movies in 2015 have had as bumpy a ride as Fantastic Four. Since the reboot of the enduringly popular Marvel property was first announced (following two underwhelming previous attempts in 2005 and 2007), the production has been mired in casting controversies, apparent production woes and reshoots. When at the start of this year a trailer was yet to emerge, alarm bells were set ringing, suspicions that were elevated when it was alleged during the summer that Chronicle director Josh Trank had had the film taken off him by 20th Century Fox, his allegedly errant behaviour on set apparently necessitating the involvement of X-Men guru Simon Kinberg and several others. A recent, ill-judged (and promptly deleted) tweet from the filmmaker in the past week has indeed confirmed that this is not the movie he intended to make.

So who is responsible for the cluster-fruitcake of a movie that has ultimately emerged: the director or the studio? It’s not a question that can easily be answered. What can be answered is this: the movie is neither fantastic nor a complete fiasco. Indeed, there remains just enough of Trank’s vision left in Fantastic Four to make it an intriguing, albeit frustrating, failure. Contrary to the vitriol spewed by the majority of critics, it’s not the worst superhero movie ever made but is surely destined to be seen as one of the great ‘what if’ projects of the modern age.

The first half is really quite engaging in the low-key, intimate fashion of Trank’s terrific Chronicle (albeit without that film’s found footage trappings). A Joe Dante/Explorers-esque set up introduces us to the pre-teen incarnations of Reed Richards and Ben Grimm, as the former takes his first steps towards creating an inter-dimensional machine in his parent’s basement (which amusingly results in him blacking out most of New Jersey). Jumping ahead several years, we meet their adult counterparts (played by Miles Teller and Jamie Bell), with the potential of Richards’ experiment being recognised by benevolent scientist Franklin Storm (Reg E. Cathey).

He recruits Richards to take part in a science experiment known as a ‘Quantum Gate’: transporting matter from one dimension to another. Joining him is Storm’s daughter Susan (Kate Mara) and, eventually, her wayward brother Johnny (Michael B. Jordan) and resentful loner Victor Von Doom (Toby Kebbell), who initially designed the gate. There’s a clever thing going on here with each character’s psychological make-up anticipating the person they will eventually become, whether it’s Victor’s simmering resentment foreshadowing his transformation into the baddie, or Susan’s ‘invisible’ role as the only woman amongst a team of boys.

When Ben finally joins the group, the unit is complete – but one inter-dimensional journey later and the characters are changed beyond recognition, returning to Earth afflicted with the superpowers we know: elongated limbs, invisibility, flaming bodies and giant bodies made of rock. However in Trank’s hands this development refreshingly steers away from camp and comes closer to body horror. Richards’ first glimpse at his stretched arms and legs is genuinely chilling, offering a tantalising glimpse at the darker, somewhat anti-commercial movie that we might have got had the project stayed on track.

Unfortunately, the halfway marker is where the film falls down spectacularly. Indeed, one can practically see the divide in the negative between Trank’s personal vision and the studio-enforced, CGI-addled mess that subsequently ensues. The second half of the movie is a disaster, squandering the character development and self-effacing humour with which it began and foisting a lumpen hero-vs-villains conflict onto the narrative, as the newly transformed foursome must save the Earth from Kebbell’s masked Dr Doom. With its pound-shop visual effects, poorly motivated baddie and awkward attempts to crowbar in the origins of a new franchise, the last 45 minutes really do resemble a crisis of faith on the part of Fox. Were they scared that there weren’t enough explosions and people punching each other in Trank’s vision for the film? It certainly seems like it.

What makes it all the worse is that there are great elements to the movie, namely the cast who, at least initially, share a nice low-key chemistry and genuinely seem to be enjoying each other’s company. Teller and Jordan are the standouts, the former building on his revelatory turn in Whiplash and the latter acting as a charismatic, wisecracking foil. The intimate, intelligent focus of the film’s first half makes one lament the fact that such a vision couldn’t be sustained. Fingers crossed Trank will bounce back: it would be a crying shame to lose such a singular talent altogether.