Though I've read it from time to time, Fantastic Four has never been one of my favorite books. It's a classic and served as the initial foundation for Stan Lee and Jack Kirby's Marvel Universe, yes, but for the most part, I've always seen the book as telling Reed Richards's story above all others. And Reed Richards -- though a figure that's full of imagination -- well... he's not exactly the easiest character to relate to. He's almost always immersed in the grandeur of his world of comic-book science. I've always seen him as the least human of the Fantastic Four. It seems that Bendis and Millar might agree with me on that score, as they craft a story that spotlights not only the characters brilliance, but his vulnerabilities and emotions. By getting to know this incarnation of Reed first as a child, it's remarkably easy to see oneself within the genius.
He's smarter than all the other kids in his class. He's no good when it comes to sports or physical activity. And he wears glasses. Reed Richards only seems like a typical nerd at school, and he's treated as such by bullies left and right. Fortunately, he's got a friend in high-school football star Ben Grimm, who looks out for him. Reed appreciates him, but his father is a different matter. The elder Richards practically worships the much lauded athlete, showering the affection on Ben that Reed longs for. Reed's dad is not at all understanding of his son's incessant need to tinker, and when Reed makes an explosive discovery, he's far from the most popular person in his household.
Adam Kubert's angular and exaggerated style is in keeping with the extreme nature of the adventures that await the title characters in forthcoming issues. But the artist's real contribution to this issue is his successful depiction of the main character's youth. He brings out Reed's tender age quite well, and in the process, he also conveys his fears and vulnerabilities. The colors add a wondrous, sci-fi tone to a couple of key scenes as well.
Bendis and Millar's take on Reed Richards reminds me of a cross between Stan Lee's Peter Parker and Peter David's Bruce Banner. We get that sense of social isolation that was integral part of Peter Parker's universal appeal in the 1960s, and the writers have also included a strong sense of familial dysfunction... a more modern common denominator. Actually, I found that one of the most interesting characters in this issue was one that got little "screen time," and that's Reed's mother. In a way, her refusal to stand up for her son in the face of her husband's overbearing nature is even more infuriating. Her choice to take the path of least resistance, sacrificing her son's happiness just to dampen the tension in her household, is, sadly, something I think is all too prevalent in our society.
Given the popularity of the main "Ultimate" titles, I'm surprised Marvel hasn't been pumping out a wider line of comics set in that shared continuity. I'm pleased, though, that they haven't. Aside from Ultimate Adventures, the Ultimate brand seems reserved for projects that really capture intensity and edge in familiar characters, but at the same time, it offers up a more grounded take on Marvel's best known icons. That's certainly the case here. Of course, with Bendis and Millar at the helm, it's not surprise this project followed the same course as its sister titles.
