I bought my ticket to Fantastic Four: First Steps with great anticipation.

But I left in an uneasy mood.

FF: First Steps is an entertaining movie. It’s well-cast, well-acted, and contains a sense of optimism that’s been missing lately in Marvel movies. It is also full of plot holes, but I suspect they wouldn’t have bothered if not for the big twist that threw me out of the story.

In a film where cosmic rays create superpowers, where an omnipotent being eats planets from the inside out, and where a surfer encased in silver rides the galaxy, the part where my suspension of disbelief broke down was something far more prosaic: trust in the essential goodness of human nature.

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

Fantastic Four: First Steps: The Opening

The movie begins with the FF firmly established as heroes and celebrities. It also focuses on the personal, as Sue and Reed view the positive result of her pregnancy test. The news quickly becomes public, and the world waits adoringly for this new member of the team they love and worship.

I love the retrofuturistic design of this opening segment and the interaction between the FF. I loved that Ben’s angst at being a monster is skipped over. We’ve all seen that before, and it was far more interesting to see him wander the old neighborhood. (Though I could have used more of it.) Reed and Sue are adorable together. Johnny is impulsive but also smart and dedicated to his family. It’s essentially the perfect realization of the team.

However, the first fifteen minutes or so have a great deal of backstory, enough that I checked my watch. Slow to begin is all right if something interesting starts to happen, and it does. But given later events, I wish the talk shows and news reports had been shorter, and more time allotted to the climax to let it breathe.

The Threat of Galactus

Silver Surfer arrives, shattering the happy mood. She tells Earth citizens that they’re about to be food for her master, Galactus, and vanishes. That’s raising the stakes! I’m on board with this planetary threat. I also love that the FF go into space to stop the threat before it reaches Earth, rather than waiting for it to come to them.

That Sue is headed into space while nine months pregnant did raise my eyebrows, especially since we don’t get a hand-wave of “I’ve studied pregnancies in space…” from anyone. Yes, I want Sue to be part of the action. But as someone who’s been pregnant three times, I certainly wouldn’t want to blast off and experience strong G-forces while nine months pregnant.

But, it’s comics, kid! Anyway, relax and have fun. I turned my attention back to the story.

The FF find Galactus, of course, and try to negotiate with him. Galactus is “sure, give me your kid and I’ll spare your planet.” Yes, I could see that coming. The FF refuse and escape Galactus, battling the Surfer in the process. This is one of those comic book things that happen with plots where you have to let questions like “um, why doesn’t he just rip the baby from Sue when she’s right there?” go because we need a second act.

Aside: another plot question: Why doesn’t Galactus merely snatch Franklin when he arrives on Earth instead of paying attention to the trap set for him? Why send the surfer after the devices instead of straight for the kid? And if he sent the Surfer to destroy the devices, he must know they’re a trap, so why does he walk into it instead of simply deciding ‘time to devour Earth! In short, the story is vague and hand-wavy about how much power this omnipotent being possesses. If there had been a sentence or two about how Reed discovered Galactus was weak because he hadn’t devoured any planets lately, that would have helped.

But the escape is a fun sequence.

And, so, back to Earth, battered but with a new family member, little Franklin, born in space. I’d say he’s an immigrant because, born in space, but since his parents are U.S. citizens, he should be fine on that score.

Now we get to the part where, having decided not to question a late-term pregnant woman in space, and the relatively easy escape from the home turf of Galactus, I lost my immersion into the story.

Reed is asked at a press conference what happened in space. He tells the complete truth, including that they refused to trade their son for Earth. Oh, by the way, the world is still on schedule to be devoured.

Why Are People?

This might be the single stupidest thing anyone has ever done in a superhero movie. I could try for a No-Prize and say that because movie Reed is likely neuro-atypical, he didn’t understand the implications of revealing the truth, but Reed’s been making public appearances for a long time; he should be more polished than that. And if he were so terrible at speaking in public, the rest of the FF would know and not make him their spokesperson at this crucial point.

However, initially, I thought this revelation would turn the story darker, showcasing the cynical, angry sides of this world. The FF would have to confront the reality that their popularity is only surface-deep, dependent on their success. They’d be battered but have to provide an example to the world.

Nope.

Yes, it somewhat happens. The world is angry at the FF and questions whether one life is worth a world, even as Reed works on another solution. An angry, menacing crowd gathers at the Baxter Building.

In the second stupidest act in any superhero movie, Sue leaves the Baxter Building and confronts the crowd while holding her precious child. YIKES. But the crowd’s anger disappears immediately as Sue gives an inspirational speech about standing together, about hope, and how she won’t let her baby or anyone else die.

The crowd buys it instantly. No riot, no more anger, only trust left that the FF will save them.

That’s where the story completely lost me. I love the idea that heroes inspire us to be better than we are. But this was too easy. I couldn’t believe it was so easy, and that the hope Sue pitched to her world could overcome fear and hatred with one speech. I’ve seen too many angry crowds in the real world; there are too many governments doing horrible things in the name of the greater good; and too many people in the recent past who had rejected a simple thing such as a mask to protect others for me to buy that a world facing destruction would not only be easily swayed but then band together to build complicated, expensive machines that might save them.

In the FF’s world, people believe. I understand that this is a different world, perhaps one that hasn’t suffered as the regular Marvel Earth and our world. The story, to its credit, attempts to establish that with the longer opening, with the acceptance of Ben’s form as the Thing, and with the trust the world has in the FF. But this required me to rewrite the essential nature of humanity in my brain to accept.

Can’t Buy It

I want superheroes to be optimistic. I love that the team is earnest and mostly angst-free. I love that the world has embraced them. Johnny’s deciphering of the messages from space and his appeal to the Silver Surfer is a terrific subplot. But I can’t get past the story’s insistence that the essential nature of people is trusting and hopeful, at least not in large numbers.

Is that a fault in the movie or me? Perhaps me.

I want a great FF movie. But I don’t think First Steps is it. Aside from my cynicism, it also contains numerous plot holes, though of the comic book sort, that impact my enjoyment.  But the biggest plot hole is a fundamental misjudgment in the reactions of people threatened with destruction.

Maybe that doesn’t bother others. I wish it didn’t bother me.