Fantastic Four: First Steps A Stumble Toward Greatness?

The Fantastic Four: First Steps arrives with the swagger of a cosmic event, only to reveal it’s more proof of concept pilot than big bang blockbuster.

Walking out of the theater I felt an odd mix of satisfaction and shrug… Sure, the bones of a great story are here, but the rushed third act leaves you hungry for the feast that could’ve been.

Let’s start with the brightest flare in this galaxy… Joseph Quinn’s Johnny Storm.

Every time he ignites, the film’s energy spikes! He’s pure charm wrapped in kerosene.

Vanessa Kirby steadies the team with warm, maternal gravity and delivering the single truly emotional confrontation when she clashes with Reed over their son.

Pedro Pascal, my biggest pre‑screening worry, stretches admirably into Reed Richards shape. He’s competent, if not yet the authoritative genius we expect.

Ebon Moss‑Bachrach’s Ben Grimm is lovable Brooklyn gruff, but the screenplay gives him less depth than a kiddie pool… Here’s hoping later films let the big guy clobber our heartstrings as hard as he does bad guys.

Sadly, cosmic power requires a worthy counterweight, and this is where First Steps flops bit.

Julie Garner’s Shalla‑Bal feels like a studio note inclusion serviceable performance. This one will absolutely get the YouTubers talking… If you know what I mean.

Meanwhile, Galactus, the eater of worlds, lumbers through the finale like an overcast Saturday. Threatening in description, dull in execution. They tells us he’s terrifying but the screen basically shows us a moody mauve storm cloud who forgets to actually menace anybody.

The premise itself is rather juicy… We jump into a universe where the Fantastic Four are already celebrated heroes, Sue is expecting baby Franklin, and cosmic intrigue swirls around their unborn child. It’s fresh, it’s daring… and it’s sabotaged (sigh) by frantic pacing.

You can practically hear the reel click as entire connective scenes disappear, leaving momentum to sputter like a half‑charged Cosmic Rod. The movie clocks in at under two hours, Yet somehow they forgot to add much action in that time span.

Visually, Marvel plays the hits. Deep‑space vistas dazzle, and the retro/futuristic ‘60s New York production design gives the MCU a new flavor… yet somehow everything seems a bit flat. Even Galactus is rendered in a monochrome palette that feels more “drab emo kaiju” than cosmic god. The spectacle never scales to the name on the marquee.

For a franchise containing both “Fantastic” and “Marvel,” that’s a problem.

Credit where it’s due though. The humor lands. Every member scores at least one legitimate laugh, and Quinn fires off enough scorchers to roast the popcorn. But jokes alone can’t mask low stakes. Outside that Reed and Sue spat, I never felt the dread of a planet hanging in the balance, and if the heroes don’t sweat, why should we?

Stacking it against 2025’s entire superhero slate and First Steps grabs the bronze medal.

Firmly superior to the year’s weakest cape flick but after sleeping on it and really thinking about it, this movie is nowhere near Superman or even Thunderbolts* territory.

Compared to the early 2000s FF movies, this entry boasts richer lore and better acting but sacrifices the giddy, comic book zaniness that made those films at least memorable. Marvel clearly wants this movie to be a building block… the mid‑credits scene screams “tune in to the NEXT movie.” Trouble is, foundations are supposed to be sturdy, and this one still wobbles.

Bottom line? I enjoyed the ride, never once checked my watch, and yet left wondering why a movie titled Fantastic Four barely lets its heroes be fantastic.

It’s a solid B launch pad with an A cast and a C climax. MCU devotees should absolutely buy a ticket… just temper expectations and think of this as Phase One of something potentially spectacular rather than the spectacle itself.

Rating: 7 out of 10 cosmic rays. Bright enough to see promise, dim enough to crave more light next time.