This weekend, I settled into the cinematic cocoon of air conditioning with my son (blazing NYC heat be damned) and watched Fantastic Four: First Steps. No timeline gymnastics. No needing to rewatch 12 previous movies or decode multiverse spaghetti. Just a solid MCU film with a pulse, a plot, and characters who actually talk to each other.

It was refreshing. Like cold seltzer on a hot sidewalk.

All four of the core characters were actually smart (a rarity in both Marvel and Manhattan sometimes). They weren’t just wisecracking sidekicks to a singular savior. Each one brought something to the table. And not just superpowers. Yearning. That longing for more. For meaning. For connection. (Paging all existential therapists)

Honestly, the movie could’ve gone five minutes deeper into one of their arcs. But that’s what sequels are for, right?

The true scene-stealer for me? Sue. Oh Sue. She was the emotional anchor and the ultimate family glue stick. She sacrificed. She held it together. She did the invisible labor (quite literally). She gave her all for her son. And her son gave his life for her.

Cue the sniffles.

Cue the side-eye from my teenage son.

Naturally, I turned to him in the darkened theater and whispered:
“You know, I’ve sacrificed a lot for you too.” He rolled his eyes so hard they almost teleported into another Marvel phase.

Mission accomplished.

Pedro Pascal, of course, was fantastic (pun very much intended). He could read the back of a cereal box and make it sound like a Shakespearean monologue filtered through Chilean charm. But even he took a back seat to the heart of the film: Family.

Not Fast & Furious style family where everyone just grunts “family” and crashes a car into a helicopter, but real family: messy, devoted, conflicted, loyal. People trying their best with what they’ve been given and what they’ve become.

So yes, Fantastic Four: First Steps was a fun ride. A little heart. A little sci-fi. A healthy dose of emotional manipulation for my own maternal PR campaign.

And isn’t that what summer parenting is all about?


Postscript:
If Marvel ever wants to explore The Fantastic Mom, I’m available. I come with my own invisible force fields, emotional thermometers, and a tote bag of snacks and existential dread.