About “The Fantastic Four: First Steps” in a few words:

This movie The Fantastic Four: First Steps lands in 2025 and throws us into a 1960s-inspired, retro-futuristic universe where Reed, Sue, Johnny, and Ben are already dealing with cosmic stakes. When Galactus shows up demanding their son Franklin, our four must balance family, powers, and huge moral choices. It’s less about origin, more about the next step of being heroes under pressure.

Meet the characters from The Fantastic Four: First Steps

Reed Richards

Reed is that breathless, brilliant brainiac who feels like a walking whiteboard — always three steps ahead and five notebooks behind. He literally stretches the rules (and himself) to solve problems, which is both hilarious and terrifying if you’re on his team; he forgets birthdays but remembers quantum signatures. There’s this quiet, nerdy charisma — the kind that hums vintage sci-fi to himself while tinkering — and also a strained, sincere care that makes him devoted but kind of emotionally awkward. He’s the planner, the fixer, the man who will invent a solution at 3 a.m. and then apologize for missing dinner.

Sue Storm

Sue is calm and quietly fierce in this way that makes you instantly trust her, except she totally ruins your poker face and also your plans because she can literally make you vanish. She’s compassionate-to-the-bone, maternal when it counts, and sarcastic in tiny, perfectly timed doses — like, she’d knit sweaters for everyone and then fold them into force fields for storage. She’s got this regal ease but also gets petty revenge (yes, she makes invisible glitter bombs sometimes) and really hates bad coffee. The balance of grace, stubbornness, and low-key ferocity is what makes her so captivating — she’ll save the day and then pretend it was the easiest thing ever.

Ben Grimm

Ben is a walking contradiction — gruff, growly, “It’s clobberin’ time!” energy, but also the kind of guy who cries at sunsets and bakes a mean apple pie when he’s having a bad week. As the Thing he’s tough as rocks (literally) and stubbornly loyal, which makes him the heart-and-fist of the group; he’s the guy you want by your side in a bar fight and on a bad date. He complains like a curmudgeon, hoards old movie posters for reasons he never explains, and occasionally surprises everyone with a painfully sentimental poem. There’s a softness under all that orange rock-skin — you feel it in the way he protects his friends and in the small, stupid jokes he refuses to stop telling.

Johnny Storm

Johnny is fireworks and neon and someone you definitely should not let near a gas stove but somehow will trust with your karaoke night and your life. He’s loud, brags a lot, shows off constantly, but also has this weirdly sincere streak where he’ll torch a threat and then bring you ice cream afterward — or whatever the cosmic equivalent is. He hates being bored, has a suspicious number of sunglasses, and claims he doesn’t like commitment while owning three commemorative matchbooks from the same diner. Flashy, reckless, annoyingly charismatic, and secretly a softie — he’ll never say no to a dare, especially if it involves flying upside down.

Galactus

Galactus is cosmic awe wrapped in a helmet, the kind of existential force that makes poets shut up for a second and read the fine print of existence. He’s not evil in a petty way — more like inevitability with a very formal lunch order — and he eats planets with the unfazed solemnity of someone who’s been at the same job for longer than stars have names. There’s a weird, ceremonial dignity to him (he gives grand speeches like a bad Shakespeare actor sometimes) and also a baffling fondness for antique furniture in his titanic ship, which makes you imagine him sipping tea oddly contemplatively. He’s terrifying and tragic and oddly respectable, like a natural disaster who sends a thank-you note.

Shalla-Bal

Shalla-Bal is this serene, luminous presence — gentle but with an undercurrent of steel that you don’t fully see until she quietly refuses something you thought was inevitable. She has this otherworldly patience and a love of art and long, quiet conversations about stars, and also a stubborn streak that will surprise you (and probably shame you a little). People describe her as calm, yes, but also as someone who collects tiny, improbable mementos — seashells from a place that might not even have seas — and keeps them in a drawer labeled “regrets” (or maybe “memories,” she’d correct you). She’s the kind of character who anchors longing and hope at the same time, and she’ll haunt your thoughts in the best possible way.