The Fantastic Four: First Steps (2025)

Score: 4 / 5

Like the other big summer superhero blockbuster this year, Superman, it would seem that the MCU has again decided that origin stories are sometimes not the way to introduce a well-known hero. Er, heroic family. As if we didn't already know and love Marvel's so-called "First Family," and been treated to multiple previous iterations of them, the writers here smartly toss us into the thick of the Fantastic Four career. We're expected to keep up, and to learn the lore of this particular version of the team as we go. That's not entirely fair; we are given some exposition in the form of a thickly stylized, televised news bulletin, a sort of miniscule mockumentary about the beloved celebrities and how they came to be. But even this narrative device feels more a product of the film's production design than a straightforward means of dumping necessary background info. Because director Matt Shakman (WandaVision, Cut Bank, and exceptional experience in television) does effective worldbuilding and stylistic amalgamation better than most in this ever-expanding genre.

I won't rehash the plot here, but it's nothing new, either for fans of the Fantastic Four or for anyone who's ever seen a superhero movie. But it works -- and works quite well --  as a result of its production design and its earnest, grounded performances. 

Kasra Farahani's (Loki) production design is rich and tactile, evocative and fanciful, and it's just astonishing to behold. As this film is set on an alternate Earth (828, rather than our familiar 616), he isn't bound to specific time or style. He evokes multiple decades from the mid-twentieth century in colors, shapes, textures, fabrics, and general visual splendor, crafting a truly mid-century modernity that feels ripped from any number of period titles, if nothing more obviously than The Jetsons. The dreams, in those days, of space have been immortalized in our cultural mind (think October Sky or The Vast of Night) as aspirational and perfect. Or fanciful yet, to our mind, distinctly old-fashioned in form (think some of the tech in the original Star Wars or Alien, right?). I mean, here we have a cute-as-heck robotic butler named HERBIE yet also large, chunky computers and impractical restrictions on navigating a city when not flying. And there are just enough actual things from our own mid-century brand names and products present in this film that the details are never less than engrossing: which bits are real, and which were manufactured for this alternate reality?

The lead performances are all solid, and I especially appreciated the actors seemingly toning down what could easily have been hammy roles. Especially given the heavy retro-'60s color scheme and trappings, these guys could have overplayed a lot. Heck, as much as I've enjoyed the 2005/2007 and 2015 films of this team, those were all overplayed with nearly opposite energies. Shakman keeps this one pretty even-keel tonally, giving the team enough time to settle in and make their characters comfortable and lived-in. As we're picking up the threads of their collective dynamic, we're able to sense that these four have long since developed a real family vibe, and we never doubt their mutual affection or respect. It's pretty magical ensemble work. There's also a sort of sub-theme here, which becomes apparent as the plot develops, of what happens to an insular group when public opinion eventually turns on them; that's a bit too timely right now, so I'm not going to attempt fleshing out that observation.

Thus, the interpersonal drama of the team didn't wholly work for me, but I'm well aware that's a "me" problem. Stories that hinge on soon-to-be-parents and obsession over infant health and safety are simply not interesting to me, and while I appreciated this Johnny's comparatively respectable cocksurety and subtle undermining of himbo expectations, the relationships between the teammates all felt predicated on the obnoxiously unassailable specter of The Child. To be fair, one must consider the rest of the plot to appreciate why there is so much ad nauseum focus on The Child: the villain of this story, cosmic god Galactus (and, by extension, his Silver Surfer, much as we saw in the 2007 film), plans to basically devour Earth to temporarily satiate his eternal hunger, until he divines that Reed and Sue's baby is powerful enough to be his next vessel. The specifics remain unclear in how any of this works, of course, but the malicious focus on needing this baby provides thematic closure (or, arguably, purpose) for the screenplay's endless obsession with it.

I do think this story, simple as it is, is remarkably effective in introducing us to these characters and their role in the MCU. Most origin stories are simple for a reason: new names, new personalities, new themes, new locations, it's all a lot to take in. So we need a basic narrative formula to tie all those things together in a more palatable form. There's a reason Moon Knight, for example, needed multiple episodes, rather than a single film, to get us on board with not only its new and unfamiliar characters but also its somewhat unconventional themes and storytelling mode. Same can be said for WandaVision, actually, which is doubtless why Shakman and his team of writers opt to attempt mythmaking here. A cosmic deity knowing only hunger and needing human child sacrifice for consumption and possession is a the root of human existential horror. Think about Kronos and his children, or Jehovah's demand of Abraham, or Palpatine and his plan with Han and Leia's child (or Rey in the films). This is a foundational myth capitalized on by the screenwriters and emphasized in Galactus's (badass) physical design and chilling performance by Ralph Ineson (The Green Knight, The Witch, kind of giving here something akin to Tim Curry's Lord of Darkness in Legend).

I also think that, by launching us into the Fantastic Four's celebrity status, the heart of the film wins us by making its characters more human, rather than less. How many superhero films start by taking your average person and somehow transforming them into a hero at the cost of alienating us from them? Well, by definition, probably most. Then they have to spend a sequel or more navigating issues of being somehow more than human, including celebrity status and increased scrutiny. But in this film, we know immediately that they are globally renowned and beloved; it's only as that status begins to crumble -- and their multiple plans as a team successively fail -- that their chilly facade cracks and lets us, the audience, in. It gets quite unexpectedly emotional, much like Thunderbolts, earlier this year.

The CGI baby was awful to watch. And that's all I have to say about that.

The Father (2021)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Easily the most immersive movie to depict the inner life of someone with dementia, The Father is finally available for the masses to view. Critics hailed it as Anthony Hopkins's best work yet long before he won the highly contested Best Actor Oscar, and yet so few of us had been able to see it for ourselves. And, indeed, he does showcase some of the best acting of the year and of his lengthy career. With impossibly precise technique, he imbues his 80-something-year-old character (also named Anthony) with the vim and vigor of someone who will certainly not go gentle into his good night, whose charisma and charm match his toxic volatility. You get the distinct impression that he was a man of his time, and was never an easy man to be with, even before the dementia set in. And yet his wit and passion for life still seek outlets, and so he seems to crave the attention of various people passing through his London flat.

And while Hopkins is astonishing here, I can't help but feel the movie as a whole is being overlooked by critics and audiences with stars in their eyes. Writer/director Florian Zeller, in adapting his own play, fully puts us in Anthony's world. It must be said, he occasionally allows us moments of insight and pain by shifting our focus to Anthony's daughter (an awesome Olivia Colman), and various other characters played by Rufus Sewell, Mark Gatiss, Olivia Williams, and Imogen Poots; all are excellent here. But, locked as we are within Anthony's mind and flat, the film forces us to experience a world at once familiar and alien.

Production designer Peter Francis (The Children Act, King Lear) and editor Yorgos Lamprinos work hard to subtly change the flat in every scene, quietly shifting our sense of reality along with Anthony's. The tiles of the kitchen backsplash change colors; rooms will be messy or tidy in juxtaposed shots; the layout of rooms doesn't ever seem to make logical or architectural sense. In an inspired bit of casting, Olivia Williams sometimes enters and introduces herself as Anthony's daughter; she looks a bit like Colman, and the film never gives us certainty as to which is which. When Poots shows up as the new at-home caregiver, Anthony is almost randy with excitement before we learn that he was abusive and perhaps violent with the previous maid; after offering her an aperitif, his melancholia takes over and he muses about her resemblance to his other daughter.

As the scenes progress, Anthony (and the audience) isn't ever sure if his lived experience is real, or a memory, or perhaps a fantasy. Is it indeed his flat, or is he living with his troubled daughter? Is his daughter married to a weary and sour man, or did she recently fall in love with plans to move to Paris? Does he have a son-in-law, or did he? Or are there two now? As characters enter and exit, looking vaguely alike, usually irritated that Anthony cannot identify them, we never know who is who, or what is real, making each fleeting moment vital. The urgency of our attempting to understand it all comes from our desire for self-contained plots and YouTube videos to explain the connections; Zeller's film eschews that, and dares us to feel the pain of not having closure, or even comprehension.

Precious few movies are as complex and confusing as they are compelling and compassionate, and The Father gets it all right. It reminded me often of the rare movies that deal with these issues -- chief of which, Still Alice and Relic, would make an interesting (and depressing) triple feature -- and how effective they are when not dripping with sentiment. The sense of danger, of desperation, of fear make these movies all the more tragic; they also, I think, suggest hope and comfort in ways that are far more profound than you would find in a Hallmark special. But be sure to bring tissues to this one.

The Favourite (2018)

Score: 5 / 5

Yorgos Lanthimos does it again with The Favourite, a brilliant comedy-tragedy that might also be his most accessible film yet to those not familiar with his auteurship.

The year is 1708, but that's mostly incidental, and the characters are based on real historical figures, but that's almost an afterthought. You don't need to know about Queen Anne's reign, her confidant and lover Sarah Churchill, and Sarah's cousin Abigail who rose in power and became the titular favorite of her majesty. I certainly didn't, although apparently it's been extensively documented through letters, memoirs, and even a lengthy biography by Sarah's descendant Winston Churchill. Ignoring, as I do, did, and will, the political and historical details about their biographies, we're left with the film as a masterful portrait of women in power and loving every moment.

The ailing Queen Anne, falling apart from gout and miserably forsaking her own crown in favor of eccentric indulgences, relies fully on her adviser Sarah, who is immediately seen to be the real power behind the throne. Sarah manages the household, the country, and, yes, the Queen's sexual appetites as well; she's also strong-willed and proud, manipulative but not sycophantic, and so tension follows in her wake as sure as sin. Olivia Colman deserves accolades for her role as the queen here, in the kind of powerhouse role women usually dream of and never get. She cries and screams and throws herself around with reckless abandon, speaking to the spoiled monarch in all of us. Meanwhile, Rachel Weisz plays her cards close to the chest, rocking some intensely androgynous costumes with stony-faced intelligence.

Enter, then, Emma Stone as the once and future favorite Abigail, who starts earnestly enough to situate herself in the queen's household. Despite her hostile work environment, she climbs the ranks before we (and her endangered cousin) realize she may be climbing with malicious intent. Her performance doesn't quite match her capabilities, nor does it quite match the output of her co-stars, but the trio of women make a fascinating and brilliant group for us to watch on screen. Their power play is endlessly entertaining, and I found myself laughing and gasping aloud in an otherwise pretty silent theater. Some people just don't understand quality comedy.

I have no complaints whatsoever about this film, except to say there wasn't more of it. It's irreverent, brutally funny and sad, and casts a lasting spell that will keep you giggling and thinking long after the credits roll. Dig the female power. Dig the awesome cinematography, performances, music, screenplay, costuming, and editing. It's all fabulous. One of the best this year, by far.

IMDb: The Favourite

Christopher Robin (2018)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I fully expected Christopher Robin to be an emotional disaster. Even the trailer had me weeping uncontrollably. I went in anticipating emotional brutality at every turn as the older character of Christopher Robin gets re-introduced to his stuffed animal friends and has to learn the value of imagination, friendship, and bravery. And while that is the gist of the story, it by no means characterizes the film.

What we get instead is a rollicking comedy-adventure that feels more like a real Winnie the Pooh story, albeit with real people. With the memories of his childhood suddenly thrust upon Christopher Robin's adult consciousness, Pooh awakens from slumber in the Hundred Acre Wood to discover his friends have all vanished. Of course the silly old bear decides to go find Christopher Robin to help, and he unwittingly stumbles into London. What follows is a magnificent adventure involving all the classic characters brought to glorious life by some eye-popping animation and, of course, the voice talents of the great Jim Cummings.

While the film's family-friendly adventure bits cemented themselves as wholly novel and utterly surprising in my mind, I would be remiss to neglect the other half of the story as well. While the primary story concerns the animals and their attempts to help their grown-up friend, the secondary story is far less original. Christopher Robin (Ewan McGregor) has become world-weary and distracted, neglecting his wife (Hayley Atwell, thank heaven) and daughter (Bronte Carmichael) to slave away at his work. Of course this gets preachy -- perhaps too much so -- but it is a Disney movie, after all. And as far as messages that his you over the head, this one is never going to wear out its welcome: Children are not children forever so don't sacrifice them to duties, and, similarly, embrace your own inner child before it's lost forever.

The film's warm heart contrasts nicely with its melancholic, often dark aesthetic, which breaks gloriously to amber sunlight in increasing increments as the film progresses. Heavy use of nature in the setting sometimes feels arthouse-y and even transcendent, like you might see in a Terrence Malick picture or even Into the Woods, and makes the whole impression that much more tactile and interesting. I liked this approach more than I expected, as the intricate details of the shadowed environment make Pooh's little truisms so much more poignant.

My love for this film stems from its affect, its aggressive but complicated way of stirring up emotions. My earnest hope is that we might get more Winnie the Pooh adventures as sequels -- because wouldn't it be great to see some of our favorite Milne stories mashed up together in a film featuring these magnificent stuffed animals? -- but I'm not convinced that will happen. As it is, we can enjoy this surprisingly successful standalone flick "deep in the hundred acre woods...."

IMDb: Christopher Robin