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Supervillain spectacles.JPG, originally uploaded by 160507.

I’d been feeling wonky and under the weather lately, so I decided to give my immune system a boost by watching The Fantastic Four: Chris Evans in Tights. It’s the entirely unnecessary sequel to the completely pointless Fantastic Four, and its redeeming qualities are all parts of Chris Evans’s anatomy (chest, arms, eyelashes, lips). As Mr. Fantastic Ioan Gruffudd, a Welsh actor, simulates an American accent by moving his mouth as if he were constantly chewing. Jessica Alba as Invisible Woman has blond hair, a tan, and pale lipstick—she looks like those overbaked Miami matrons addicted to plastic surgery. As a couple these two have less chemistry than Michael Chiklis’s The Thing and Chris’s Human Torch. The frequently-postponed wedding of the Fantastics is the movie’s human plot; the superhero plot involves the Silver Surfer, an alien who looks like an extra-large consolation prize Oscar. It’s jarring to hear Lawrence Fishburne’s voice come out of a giant Oscar; I feel like he’s about to make me choose between red pill and blue pill. The Silver Surfer explains his cosmically fatal mission using his stomach as a screen—I’m thinking this Galactus doesn’t sound so tough, I’m sure some lactobacilli Shirota strain would fix him. To complicate matters Dr. Doom, who was presumed dead, returns with plucked eyebrows, hairpiece, and the mannered acting of a contestant in an Evil Diva pageant. The movie leaves many questions unanswered, like Who’s Galactus anyway? and What happened to the Silver Surfer’s genitalia? but it’s cheesy and cheerful, and I’m not arguing with the sight of Chris Evans in a towel.