As FANTASTIC FOUR: RISE OF THE SILVER SURFER begins, there is no doubt about what the audience is in for. A planet dissolves before our very eyes, and with special effects that could most charitably be described as inferior. And so it goes for the rest of the flick. It soon becomes apparent that this sequel is even worse than the original FANTASTIC FOUR, and if that doesn’t send a shiver up and down your spine, you are made of sterner stuff than I am. There’s no point in wondering why a sequel to such a wretched would have been green lit, it was, it’s here, and like most sequels, it doesn’t quite live up to the promise of the original. The only thing to do is deal with the trauma, and then to get on with our lives as best we can.
Based on the Marvel comic by Stan Lee (who makes a cameo as he does in all the films based on his work), it picks up the story of those cosmic-rayed superheroes dealing with the end of the world and a fifth attempt at a wedding. Not necessarily in that order. The original cast is back and looking pretty much as miserable as last time. Ioan Gruffud, who plays Reed Richrads, aka Mr. Fantastic, aka the stretchy guy, is otherwise a fine actor, but spends the film mostly standing beneath hair-dos exploring the limits of tousled, with gray at the temples exploring differing widths. If he had a script, as such, to work it, he would have had a chance to shine, no doubt, but what we have here is a series of events strung together with baling wire and chewing gum.
As for the Silver Surfer, he’s an cosmic planet destroyer who zips through the universe on his surfboard, both very silvery and very shine. He gets the planet in question, this time the earth, ready for its fate by punching very, very large holes in it. Sort of like the ones in the story. He’s unstoppable, but Richards comes up with a plan, of course, one that might save the world, but puts in peril his upcoming nuptials to fellow Four-er Dr. Susan Storm (Jessica Alba) aka The Invisible Woman. Julian McMahon is back as Dr. Doom (you didn’t really think they would let him stay dead, did you?). Also back are Chris Evans as Johnny Storm, aka The Human Torch, and Michael Chiklis as Ben Grimm, aka The Thing. Chiklis is, as in the last outing, the best thing in the film. His delivery beneath more layers of latex than any actor should have to endure, is funny and sweet, taking his solid-stone status and adjusting it to a world too fragile, not to mention dainty, for his hefty self with a wry sense of self-deprecation. Alba, though, is all lip gloss, stripper eyeliner, and an expression that shows just how hard she is trying to look cerebral. Evans is completely forgettable (again) as the would-be hunky charmer, and McMahon has nothing to do but sneer in tight close-ups. Fortunately for all concerned, he sneers very, very well. The jokes, like the action sequences, are both tired and recycled, and of all the tedious dialogue, it is left to Andre Braugher to deliver the silliest line as his character, the multi-star general, says upon learning what the Silver Surfer is capable of, “He must be destroyed.”
Duh.
FANTASTIC FOUR: RISE OF THE SILVER SURFER is too dull to be fun, too inept to be engaging, and too low-rent FX-wise to be dazzling. It’s a complete waste of the three brain cells it took to throw it together.
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