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Hola all. Massawyrm here. The rumors are true and the bets are being settled. Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer is an astounding, unbelievable, monumental…piece of shit. No, really. When Bill O’Reilly gets around to seeing this, he’s going to tender his resignation the moment he realizes that Fox not only sanctioned, but paid for, an abortion. Unlike its predecessor, this movie starts off bad and continues to get worse. So let’s lay our cards on the table, shall we? If you are not a comic book fan, a comic book movie fan or have share no love of the Fantastic Four outside of the previous film and maybe a cartoon series…the following review is NOT FOR YOU. Seriously. I’m a fanboy. I rant, I rave, I spray nerd juice all over the fucking place. If you’re the type of person who thought X-Men 3 was a Fun summer blockbuster or Okay for what it was or that the first Fantastic Four movie was a fun film, I highly recommend you back out of this window now – or at least jump to talkback, share your snark and then continue on your merry way. We will not see eye to eye on this and my review will be completely useless to you. Okay? There. I have been completely honest with you. This review is coming to you through dork-tinted glasses. When it comes to the original Fantastic Four, I tend to fall dead even with the general consensus. It got as much right as it got wrong. So imagine my surprise when this movie not only starts off on the wrong foot, but hops on it the whole way. There is so much wrong with this that it has to be seen to be believed – not that I’d recommend that to anyone but my most fervent of enemies. The first act is entirely a series of terrible slapstick jokes about being members of the Fantastic Four. We’re talking gawd-awful shit so bad you expect some old vaudevillian/Hanna Barbara sound effects and a rim shot to follow each of them up. They even sink so low as to hit you with a Thing’s Dork made of Rock joke. Such is the juvenile, complete disrespect of the material. And that’s just how this begins. Then, once they’ve gotten through the initial set up and finish explaining that they give exactly fuck and all about the material they’re handling, they introduce the Silver Surfer, the one redeeming aspect of the whole film. The five to ten minutes we spend with Lawrence Fishburne’s Norrin Radd is about the only moments of the film that are tolerable, if not enjoyable. They get him right. Of course, he’s not on screen long enough to get fucked up, nor does he ever crack one of the tasteless, puerile jokes. The rest of the Fantastic Four fare about the same. Ioan Gruffudd is still struggling at his feeble attempt at Reed Richards. And Jessica Alba – well, as hot as she may be, in a town full of fucking blondes, they hired the only Brunette – and the worst part of her playing Sue Storm is that when she's not just totally wrong for the part, you just can't take your eyes off of her creepy fake ass blue contacts. Seriously guys. If you care so little about getting Sue right, does her eye color really fucking matter that much? And the Thing still looks fake as all hell. So much for the theory that they'd make him rockier over time. And does Chiklis have it in his contract somewhere that he has to appear without makeup in so many scenes in each film? Because I don't think in over 500 issues the Thing has turned human as many times as he has in this two movie series. Once again, the only character that hits the mark is Chris Evans Johnny Storm. But even he gets a bit too bogged down in one-liners, as well as plays party to all the very worst moments in the film. Really, this feels like a terrible parody of this famed super team. I don't care how goofy and kitschy the Fantastic Four got in the comics at times. They were never a Warner Brothers cartoon. This might as well be – without actually being funny like a WB cartoon. So bad was this at times that I was waiting for the Mad TV actors to appear, playing major roles. And if you doubt me, wait until you see the scene in which the Fantastic Car shows up. Oh lord, just you wait. There is such a sacrilegious setup, such a you just wouldn't believe it if I told you moment, that IT WILL BECOME LEGENDARY. Guys – this is nipples on the batsuit bad. And really, that's what kills this movie. Sure, fine, whatever – turn Galactus into a giant space tornado and don't let him appear at all. Keep Dr. Doom shooting balls of electricity. Have the military treat reed Richards like shit every time they need his help to a point at which it makes no sense. That's the kind of shit you could get away with if you got the soul of the movie right. But they don't. They fail, once again, to get the soul right – only this time, they don't even appear to be trying. So things like Giant Space Tornado, Eater of Worlds (AKA Sir Not-Appearing-in-this-Film) kind of sticks out like a cold sore on a stripper. Could this movie be worse? Only a bit. It could be a bit more boring, and piss you off just a slight bit more. But that would require effort. Something this franchise has shown very little of. Not Recommended. Not even a little bit. Until next time friends, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em. Massawyrm
I'd like to let the filmmakers know that my sack is available for their gargling pleasure anytime.


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