There Goes Two Hours Of My Life That I Can't Get Back...

Last night Mags picked up a copy of "The Fantastic Four" and she and I sat down to watch it. I remember when the movie had first come out I had cautioned Nibs not to take the boys to see it. From what I remember of the comics, Dr. Doom was the most interesting character in the series. Dark and brooding, always doing the wrong things for the right reasons, possessing a sense of honor without a smidgen of compassion or humanity, Doom was the perfect, twisted soul.

Now I'm glad I warned Nibs off, but for differect reasons.

The first thing that hit me as the movie started was how badly the actor playing Mr. Fantastic fit the role. Too young, too pretty, and working with a script that took Reed Richard's primary character flaw, over-analyzing, and elevated it to a nerosis.

Jessica Alba was likewise given a flawed interpretation of Sue Storm to work with. Instead of the conciliator, this Sue Storm was all about being a child of the aughts. I know that the Human torch was supposed to be her little brother, but it was almost as if the script writers confused the two personalities.

At least Johnny Storm and Ben Grimm behaved like they had in the comics, but I found myself with an almost overwhelming urge to throttle Reed and Sue.

As if this wasn't enough, the writers destroyed Doom. Instead of the amoral monarch that Stan Lee had created, this Doom was a self-obsessed uber-yuppie. Ignoring what was done to the heroes, this offense alone should merit the writers being strung up with their pens driven through their hearts.

Don't get me wrong, the effects were marvelous, and the potrail of the haunted Ben Grimm was masterfully done. Still, all in all, the movie left me hungry to dig up the old comics.