"Fantastic Four" (2025)

The latest Fantastic Four film offers the usual cosmic spectacle and superheroics. I like this films aesthetic and style. I tend to love the Fantastic Four concept. But what lingered with me this time wasn’t the action or the effects. It was what the story hinted at but never truly delivered: sacrifice.

Like many modern superhero films, Fantastic Four uses narrative shorthand. It assumes the audience knows who these characters are and what they mean. Reed is the stretchy science genius, Sue the invisible mother-figure, Johnny the flaming hothead, and Ben the rock-solid bruiser. There’s no need, apparently, for backstory or growth. They arrive fully formed, icons rather than people.

But without development, there’s no arc. And without struggle, there’s no real triumph. We’re left watching gods in human form. One character even calls them “our protectors, teachers, and friends.” They hover above the world, solving problems without being deeply changed by them.

The story flirts with moral complexity when the central family faces a difficult decision: save the world, or save their son. For a moment, there’s the shadow of a dilemma. The needs of the many do not outweigh the needs of the few, at least not when the few are your family. But the film sidesteps the true cost. There is no “Sophie’s Choice.” No one has to die. The world is saved, and the family is preserved. It’s a story without blood, without pain, and without loss.

In theological terms, this is a version of salvation without a cross.

The Christian gospel is also a story about a Son. But it does not end in rescue at no cost. It is not a cheat. In the Gospel, God truly does face the terrible choice, and He makes it. “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son…” (John 3:16). The Father sends the Son not to preserve the family as it was, but to redeem humanity through the suffering and death of the beloved.

Unlike the Fantastic Four, Jesus doesn’t merely protect us with power. He suffers with us. He grows, weeps, and bleeds. His character arc is one of obedience unto death (Philippians 2:8). He doesn't avoid the cross. He embraces it. And in that costly choice: real, painful, and redemptive. We see the true shape of love.

What these films often reveal is not just the shallowness of modern storytelling. They also reveal our deep longing for something more. We crave stories of rescue, but also of meaning. We want saviors, but also a Savior. And we instinctively know that real love costs something.

So, when superhero stories promise sacrifice but pull back at the last moment, we’re left unsatisfied. Because deep down, we know the truth. The world is not saved by power alone, but by love willing to suffer.