What do superheroes owe us, and what do we owe them?
After nearly two decades of comic book films dominating the discourse, it’s surprising how infrequently that question has come up. Most of Marvel and DC’s output focuses on cosmic and existential crises that threaten to shred galaxies, let alone the planet and its people. It makes for jaw-dropping, IMAX-worthy spectacles. It also leaves the relationship between costumed beings and the public they purport to serve a bit opaque. Conventional wisdom dictates that we should admire superheroes for their sacrifices or fear their potential to overpower us. But what does that mean in practice?
Some films have briefly explored that wisdom over the years, most notably Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. However, this current superhero zeitgeist is actively engaged in how superheroes relate to the general public. The latest entrant into the conversation is The Fantastic Four: First Steps, the MCU’s first crack at “Marvel’s First Family” after two notorious failed attempts in 2005 and 2015. Helmed by WandaVision director Matt Shakman, the 2025 version takes place in an alternative universe during the 1960s. In this universe, astronauts Reed Richards (Pedro Pascal), Sue Storm (Vanessa Kirby), Johnny Storm (Joseph Quinn), and Ben Grimm (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) are heroic household names, venerated for utilizing their space travel-acquired superpowers to save the day. In this Ed Sullivan-esque monoculture, they cover magazines, have multiple TV shows, and are greeted by adoring fans and flashing camera bulbs wherever they go.
The arrival of Shalla-Bal (Julia Garner), or the Silver Surfer, interrupts the idyll. She warns the Fantastic Four and the public, celebrating the fourth anniversary of the team’s existence, about Galactus, a cosmic being who intends to consume the Earth. The team quickly jumps into action, rushing out to space to confront this world-ending threat. What complicates their mission on multiple fronts is another impending arrival: their son, Franklin, who Sue and Reed have been trying to have for at least two years. To fight and defeat, or at least subdue, Galactus, the Fantastic Four have to decide how far they are willing to go, what they’re willing to sacrifice, and if they can live up to the titanic expectations that their adoring public expects of them.
If that sounds like a more intimate storytelling approach than the MCU is used to, that’s because it is. Like Thunderbolts, First Steps prioritizes its heroes’ idiosyncrasies and interpersonal dynamics above all else, including the standard action set pieces. Matt Shakman makes that clear from the beginning, when he fashions the team’s origin story into a charming, family-friendly variety show montage. Afterwards, he dives right into these characters and what that montage means to them as they prepare for Franklin’s arrival. There is joy and camaraderie, but whispers of conflict also emerge, from Reed’s guilt over the space incident’s failures to Ben’s body dysmorphia. It’s quiet, thoughtful work, but Shakman’s confidently zippy direction and assured handling of the script keep us engaged as he lays out the stakes for the team.
Superhero films have struggled with villains exacting existential threats that lack tangible, on-the-ground impact. (Yes, a powerful light beam can destroy a city, but how terrifying is that after countless iterations?) Galactus seems poised to continue that trend, and the Fantastic Four’s first confrontation with him reflects his overwhelming scale. Shakman, the visual effects team, and voice actor Ralph Ineson do tremendous work in crafting one of the MCU’s most imposing villains to date. What makes him truly terrifying, though, is what he demands from the team. We know Galactus can easily decimate a planet, which makes whatever terms he offers feel minuscule in comparison.
That doesn’t mean that his terms are acceptable to the Fantastic Four. Their refusal puts them in open opposition not only with Galactus but also with the planet they’ve sworn to protect. When they arrive back on Earth after Franklin’s harrowing birth in space (arguably one of the MCU’s best-ever sequences), Reed and his team leave the cheering populace stunned as they explain Galactus’s offer and why they couldn’t accept it. For the first time, the Four must contend with the darker side of public perception: skepticism and scorn. Shakman smartly links the PR shift to their fragile relationships. Reed shields his rigid pragmatism behind the public’s trust, especially when logic interferes with the emotional. It’s a complex dynamic that the genre rarely engages with. It asks us, do we have the right to ask heroes to make unthinkable sacrifices, and do heroes have the right to refuse us?
Unfortunately, Shakman cheats us out of a satisfying examination of those questions. While the breezy atmosphere propels the film forward, it also zooms past the heavier narrative beats. Worse still, the script undercuts them with wisps of humor that are awkward at best and inappropriate at worst. (Johnny’s attraction to Shalla-Bal falls in the former, while his side commentary during the central conflict lands in the latter.) Shakman ultimately settles on a relatively toothless conclusion to the conflict. While it feels well-aligned with this particularly optimistic universe, it also feels slightly disingenuous and too easy. Perhaps the deck needed to be cleared for the inevitable final act battle between the team and Galactus. The battle is thrilling and well-staged, offering fun depictions of the team’s powers. Yet, its excision from the weightier thematic stakes leaves its core feeling slightly hollow.
As for the Fantastic Four themselves, they collectively deliver on the promise of a true-blue adaptation. They have great chemistry as a unit and in their different pairings. Unsurprisingly, the strongest pair is Kirby and Pascal. They approach Reed and Sue’s marriage with a lived-in quality that adds real bite to their conflicts. Kirby’s individual performance is uniformly excellent, conveying Sue’s unwavering commitment to her family and her powers with a ferocious, steely energy. Pascal revealed in a Vanity Fair article that Marvel cautioned him away from his mid-Atlantic accent for Reed. The effect is noticeable, with some line readings reflecting a slight discomfort. However, he brings a raw, shaky vulnerability to Reed’s intellectualism that hits hard in the second half. Moss-Bachrach’s subtleties deepen and sharpen Ben’s emotional arc, even through the CGI. Meanwhile, Quinn’s broad swing approach to Johnny largely works for him.
Matt Shakman proves with First Steps that, despite other bungled attempts, the Fantastic Four can work on the big screen. The film is also a compelling case for more MCU projects outside the mainline continuity. These films can grapple with thornier topics and questions around heroism without being beholden to other stories and Easter eggs. The film’s answer to the mutual responsibilities of heroes and the public doesn’t feel like the end of the conversation. Still, it is a largely successful expansion that openly invites future comic book films to engage. Doing that while also being a charming and emotionally resonant MCU entry feels like an unqualified win. Even further, it’s a promising, even fantastic, path for the genre’s future.
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