This is the fourth time that Marvel or its associates have tried to bring the Fantastic Four to the big screen, and this time they might have finally succeeded—at least commercially, if not theologically. The retro aesthetic sings like a love letter to the ’60s, the golden age of Jack Kirby’s cosmic rays and square-jawed heroism. Except, there’s something deeply unsatisfying about the story. I couldn’t put my finger on it in the theatre. But it hit me afterward like a gamma-powered epiphany.
Sometimes Hollywood will echo the gospel by reversing it. That’s exactly what happens in The Fantastic Four: First Steps.

The movie is a Galactus story. If you’re at all familiar with the comics, I think you’ll appreciate how they get that character right. Galactus is an amoral cosmic being—the lone survivor of the last universe—and he has one thing on his mind: hunger. Deep, eternal hunger. The only thing that can satisfy him is to eat whole planets. And this time, he’s coming for Earth.

After the Silver Surfer announces that Earth has been marked for destruction, the Fantastic Four go out to negotiate with Galactus. Maybe—just maybe—they can come to an understanding. But the planet-devourer senses that Sue Storm (the Invisible Woman) is pregnant with a son of immense cosmic power. Indeed, her unborn son isn’t just another super-kid—he belongs in the godlike category, closer to the Celestials or Galactus himself. He believes that Franklin can satisfy his eternal hunger—can take it upon himself and relieve Galactus from his curse. So Galactus makes an offer: Reed and Sue can sacrifice their godlike, one-and-only son to save the world.

Sound familiar?

But here’s the twist: they refuse!

As the opening scenes of the movie emphasize, the world loves the Fantastic Four—but the Invisible Woman does not so love the world that she would give her only begotten son. She’d rather find another way to save everyone.

At the center of First Steps is a resolute rejection of substitutionary sacrifice.

Instead, the team commits to working out the world’s salvation through ingenuity, genius, and cooperation on a global scale. In the end, they do manage to put off the threat that Galactus poses, at least for the time being. And so salvation (such as it is) arrives not by grace, but by cleverness, not by a gift, but by grit. The world is spared—temporarily, at least. But at what cost? Not much.

And there it is: the anti-gospel.

They come close to salvation by sacrifice. Sue Storms expends all her energy fighting Galactus and dies—but only for a few minutes. She’s immediately brought back to life by her infant son. But Franklin didn’t have to sacrifice anything for that resurrection. He just used his powers to fix the problem of his mother’s death. Poof. Working out your salvation works, after all!

Weirdly, Galactus is the character who comes closest to believing in substitution. He will accept Franklin Richards’s life as a substitute for every living creature on Earth. He also believes that Franklin can save him by bearing his hunger.

Nevertheless, beneath the shiny visuals and nostalgic trappings lies an all-too-familiar parable of self-salvation. It’s not just that the movie avoids Christ-figuring. It refuses it. It serves up the cross and politely declines. There’s no need for a Savior when you’ve got a family willing to risk everything… except their only begotten son.

I prefer the gospel. God the Father loves the world so much that He does not spare Him, but gives Him freely to die for the world (John 3:16). The devourer is defeated not by superpowered might but by mercy—not by cleverness, but by a crucified child.

That’s a much better story. And it’s true!

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Send your questions or comments to shawn@freegrace.in.

Read his latest book, The Myth of Tithing and the Joy of Grace Giving by getting it from us or from Amazon.