Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer
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Not so Fantastic--But Who Cares?
Okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve got kind of a soft spot for the Fantastic Four movies. Everyone else in the world seems to think they are just awful, but I kind of like them. They are not great cinema, but they radiate a vibe of goofy charm and B-movie sensibility that is infectious. Compared to superhero movies that want to be super-serious, Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer is silly fun.
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I know here is quite a bit to pick on here. The acting is hammy (witness the “death scene” at the end). Jessica Alba has the worst set of brown-to-blue contact lenses this side of Maria Bello in World Trade Center. Villain Doctor Doom (Julian McMahon) returns in what feels like an afterthought. The Fantasti-car that Reed builds has a Dodge logo! The Silver Surfer looks less impressive than Terminator 2’s liquid metal killer from sixteen years ago. The Thing belches on a guy with an afro. Stan Lee makes his token cameo claiming to be Stan Lee, and on the list goes.
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I realize you have to be in the right frame of mind to appreciate a movie such as this. You have to lower expectations, and enter with a dumb grin on your face. You have to like the silly and the absurd. You have to think that what you are seeing is a thinly-veiled comedy and not high drama or art. I know the filmmakers aren’t thinking this, but it doesn’t matter. Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer works on that level, and that’s good enough for me.
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