The Fantastic Four has Mommy Issues

As a certified Marvel naysayer, the only thing that appealed to me about the newest adaptation of The Fantastic Four comic series was the promise of something different. It seemingly exists outside of the convoluted MCU timeline that has transformed movies in collectibles. It actually possesses a unique aesthetic that absolutely worked for me. And still, what promised to be an all-new kind of MCU film still fell into the basic tropes, style, and trappings of a conventional entry into the MCU, all the while appearing to position itself precariously within one of the most heated discourses in the modern-day culture wars.

Admittedly, I had a smile on my face for about the first ten minutes of the newest film, It opens on a scene of domesticity, where Sue Storm tells her husband Reed Richards that she is pregnant. I was interested to see how they would portray a superhero in the throes of motherhood (i haven’t seen any piece of media to do with Wanda Maximoff so this is new to me). We get an abridged version the incident that brought on the team’s powers and led to them becoming earth’s most beloved do-gooders. In this version of New York City, they are everyone’s friend. It is these moments, when our heroes are based in the real world, that I most enjoyed the film. In particular, I found myself genuinely moved by scenes in which Ben Grimm, “The Thing” played by Ebon Moss-Bachrach, visits his childhood neighbourhood lined by kosher bakery, a Yiddish book store, and a Jewish day school. It was very touching to see a Jewish community portrayed with affection and respect in a mainstream film that might have chosen to ignore this part of the character and creator’s heritage.

That my favourite moments occurred so early in he film does not bode well for the Fantastic Four. Soon, conflict arrises. The Silver Surfer, played by Julia Garner, arrives looking cool as hell, telling the entire world that regretfully they are about to be consumed by a gargantuan space deity, aptly named Galactus. There’s only one solution: send the world’s saviours to change his mind, through brute force or otherwise.

So, they suit up. But wait, isn’t Sue pregnant? Why yes, in fact, she is; very much so, between seven to eight months I’d estimate. I can easily imagine a deleted scene, endlessly debated by studio executives, in which Reed tries to convince his wife to not go to the far reaches of space while on the precipice of giving birth, while Sue retorts that there’s nothing he can do to stop her. As someone who has been around a lot of pregnant women lately thanks to my sister and her fellow pre-natal class moms, I can think of few things a woman in her condition would rather do than put on a spacesuit and hop on a rocket, not only due to her own physical discomfort but for the risk it could potentially pose to her unborn baby (remember what happened last time this crew went to space?). But Sue Storm isn’t a regular mom. She’s a supermom, in every sense of the word. Not only is her pregnancy utterly uneventful, physically or mentally, but she is the perfect mother, free from postpartum recovery, hormonal changes, pumping, breastfeeding, identity shift, weight gain, hair loss, blood, anxiety, incontinence, exhaustion, or anything that could make childbirth and motherhood look “ugly”. Before, during, and after, she is always put together. It is an idealized pregnancy that feels right at home for the 1960’s-adjacent setting, but not so much for the 2025 release date..

So anyway, now we’re pregnant and in space. And the film introduces a galactic-scale trolley problem: Galactus will spare the whole planet if Sue and Reed give up their (magic) baby, who thanks to his uniquely modified super-DNA, is able to take on the burden of Galactus’ eternally insatiable hunger. 

This is when my spidey-sense started tingling. In the immortal words of Miss Clavel, “something is not right”.

I thought back to a moment earlier in the film, when an understandably anxious Reed insists on running another test to check on the health of his unborn baby. To ease his worries, Sue makes her midsection invisible so Reed can see the healthy fetus for himself. It’s an eerily familiar image. From my perspective, and I don’t think I’m stretching (haha), it’s the kind of image used by pro-life advocacy groups outside of Planned Parenthoods to convince pregnant women not to have abortions, or in pamphlets given to them at “crisis pregnancy centres”. Notably, this kind of image of a fetus in utero was used to disturbing effect in Andrew Dominik’s Blonde, where we see Marilyn Monroe’s fetus as it asks why she ended her last pregnancy. This was understandably called out by critics who saw the parallels instantly, adding another stain to that film's already tarnished reputation. Discussions of The Fantastic Four as an anti-abortion metaphor have appeared on the r/Catholicism subreddit and a number of anti-abortion advocacy websites who take the supposed representation as a win for their cause.

When the crew returns to Earth, having failed in their mission to neutralize the threat, they make the mind bogglingly stupid decision to tell the world of Galactus’ ultimatum, and their once loyal acolytes, understandably, respond in anger. The growing angry mobs impose themself on Sue Storm, trying to shame her into sacrificing her baby, and given what we've already seen, I can’t help but view these scenes with an extra degree of scrutiny. These images of angry mobs trying to force a woman to give up her child call to mind the false narrative conservative pro-lifers push of pro-choice activists, as if they force women to have unwanted abortions instead of providing them with the choice and resources to safely do so if they wish. It’s the kind of scene D*nald Tr*mp might come up with to appease his evangelical following, considering that only a year ago he claimed that doctors are actually performing abortions on babies after they are born. For the record, It's not thank I think the film's creative team were intentionally making a statement either way about abortion, but I think the film indicates what little consideration major studios put towards the creation of their female characters, and how they continue to perpetuate old-fashioned conventions about motherhood.

To ease the anger of the growing mobs of dissenters, Sue, as if a radiant Madonna, approaches the protesters head-on, introducing them to her son Franklin. From here on, Susan Storm has entered into the infamous “Elizabeth Debicki in Tenet” territory, where our sole female character revolves entirely around the protection of her child and ceases to possess any other discernible human traits. I wish I could put it more poetically, but such characters are unable to rise above the fact that they are written by men uninterested in developing female characters into anything beyond archetypes. Frankly, I’m amazed at the lack of criticism within the online film space that has arisen on this matter.

The film concludes with a visually uninteresting battle between the gang and Galactus in the heart of NYC. It is the Silver Surfer, who we learn in a situation similar to the Four decided to become Galactus' servant in order to save her planet (and child) from his destruction, who delivers the ultimate blow and sacrifices herself in the process. After our heroes defeat their enemy, the film pulls the most tired, recycled, been-there-done-that, “do they think we’re stupid?” move that only a film studio that has absolutely no respect for its audience would do: they pretend, for approximately 90 seconds, that Sue Storm, beach-waves still intact, is dead from . . . using her powers too hard . . . I guess. “Give me a break,” I and my fellow audience members must have thought in unison. I know exactly how this is going to play out: She’ll lie there for a few minutes, her husband will apply inadequate chest compressions, everyone will shed a single tear (including their CGI baby), and then her fingers will twitch and she’ll awake while gasping for breath. Reader, that’s exactly what happened. And then the CGI baby started clapping and I desperately wanted my time in the theatre to end as quickly as possible. As if she hadn’t done enough already, Sue (and the Silver Surfer) serves as the model of perfect motherhood in the form of self-sacrifice, again proving the unrealistic standards of maternity the film places upon its female characters. (Why Does a Mother’s Love Always Have to Be Self-Sacrificial?)

Fantastic Four does not earn the praise it has received from critics for simply not being the worst comic book movie ever made (it’s far from it). I am rather confused by the accolades it has been given and lack of criticism surrounding the film's treatment of female characters. Even with a theoretically interesting philosophical premise (e.g. How do I protect my child at the end of the world?) the film fails in it delivery of anything beyond the typically uninspiring fare, and through careless writing and poor female representation, inadvertently dips it toe into the tempestuous waters of the culture wars. 

And don’t even get me started about that damn after-credits scene.