How does the new Fantastic Four movie reflect the Catholic vision of life, family, and moral responsibility?

Lately, Marvel hasn’t exactly been delivering its best. The golden age of the Infinity Stones, Tony Stark, and Steve Rogers feels like a distant memory. Since the end of the Infinity Saga—compounded by the COVID-19 pandemic and a noticeable ideological drift—the studio has struggled to capture the cultural imagination in the way it once did.

I won’t go so far as to claim that this new Fantastic Four film is a full return to form. But it is a clear course correction—a hopeful step in the right direction for the Marvel Universe.

What’s especially striking is that, after all this time, Marvel is finally introducing its first true superhero family (I don’t know, does Hawkeye’s family really count? Let me know your thoughts in the comments). That’s significant, not just for comic book fans, but for anyone paying attention to the cultural stories we tell about life, love, and what it means to protect what matters most.

The Fantastic Four as a Symbol of Family

In this newest installment, the heroes offer a striking witness to the dignity of life, the irreplaceable role of the family, and the responsibility of parents to protect their children—not just from evil, but from the world’s distortions. The story unexpectedly touches on some of the Church’s deepest truths about vocation, sacrifice, and moral courage.

The Fantastic Four are not merely a team. They are spouses, siblings, and friends. Their story isn’t just about saving the world—it’s about being a family in a world that seems to have forgotten what family is. As Familiaris Consortio puts it:

“Each family finds within itself a summons that cannot be ignored, and that specifies both its dignity and its responsibility: Family, become what you are.” (Section 17)

What makes this depiction even more meaningful is the way it portrays family life as heroic precisely through its imperfections. Reed and Susan Richards are not presented as flawless parents—they’re human. Reed, a brilliant scientist following in his father’s footsteps, is also an intellectualizer—using logic to guard himself from emotional vulnerability. His focus on the future sometimes blinds him to the present needs of his wife and children.

Susan, by contrast, is portrayed as deeply interior. Marked by the early death of her mother and the strength of her father’s parenting, she exhibits the feminine genius by gathering and shielding the family with an emotional strength that holds them together. Her tenderness and rootedness counterbalance Reed’s abstraction.

In this way, the Fantastic Four embody the Church’s teaching that love is essentially a gift—and that conjugal love, when open to life, makes the couple “cooperators with God” in bringing forth new life (Familiaris Consortio, Section 14).

Life, Science, and the Moral Boundaries of Power

Familiaris Consortio teaches that “science is called to ally itself with wisdom” (Section 8). This is not a rejection of human discovery, but a call to humility, a reminder that power must always be oriented toward the good of the person.

Reed, as a super-genius, holds immense scientific power. But at the start, he lacks the wisdom to wield it well. He places too much trust in his intelligence and not enough in love. It is Susan, with her feminine genius geared toward the family, that re-centers him. She reminds him that the answer never falls out of the foundation of goodness and beauty. 

This is a lesson for our times: science and faith are not enemies. They are, as John Paul II once said, “two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth.” When the two are united, human progress becomes not just possible—but truly meaningful.

**SPOILER ALERT**

A Culture That Fears Life

In a powerful scene, Susan, while using her powers of invisibility, creates a window into her womb, revealing her unborn baby in her third trimester—a tiny face, fingers, and torso clearly shown. It’s a striking counter to the typical downplaying of life within the womb by mainstream media. Reed, worried that there is something wrong with the child, is consoled by his wife and this visual of their baby. She tells him, “There is nothing wrong with him. Look at him, he’s perfect.” The moment quietly proclaims a truth: life is sacred, and life begins in the womb.

This truth stands in direct opposition to what St. John Paul II called the “anti-life mentality,” a mentality that infects culture through fear and utilitarianism:

“Excessive prosperity and the consumer mentality… deprive married couples of the generosity and courage needed for raising up new human life: thus life is often perceived not as a blessing, but as a danger from which to defend oneself.” (Familiaris Consortio, Section 6)

“But the Church firmly believes that human life, even if weak and suffering, is always a splendid gift of God’s goodness… To the ‘No’ which assails and afflicts the world, she replies with this living ‘Yes.’” (Section 30)

These words illuminate the spiritual core of the film’s villain, Galactus. He is a planet-consuming force with an insatiable hunger, devouring worlds to sustain his existence. In a pivotal moment, Galactus demands a child from the Fantastic Four in exchange for sparing Earth. It’s a moment of horrifying clarity: this evil does not merely consume resources, it demands the sacrifice of the innocent.

In Galactus, we see the embodiment of a modern lie: that we can satisfy our inner hunger by consuming more of the world. But the appetite never ends. Eventually, this lie demands the ultimate price—our children.

Reed and Susan refuse. The people of Earth protest, calling them selfish. “Why not sacrifice the one to save the many?” But the Richards family responds not with cold calculation, but with moral clarity. They affirm what the Church has always taught: a child is never a problem to be solved or a resource to be exchanged. A child is a gift.

This scene reflects a key truth: evil often disguises itself as necessity. It offers false choices—between life and survival, love and logic, sacrifice and pragmatism. But the Fantastic Four demonstrate moral courage. They stand firm in their vocation as parents, even in the face of global condemnation and the threat of annihilation.

It All Centers On Life

There’s another spiritual truth at play here: the battle between good and evil always centers on the question of life. Carrie Gress, in The Anti-Mary Exposed, recounts a chilling chant—voiced not only by demons, but echoed in distorted ideologies—that seek to destroy the family by first destroying the father, and ultimately the child.

“Why are we here today?”

“To make revolution.”

“How do we do that?”

“By destroying the American family!”
“How do we do that?”
“By destroying monogamy!”
“How?”
“By promoting promiscuity, eroticism, prostitution, abortion, and homosexuality!”

— from The Anti-Mary Exposed by Carrie Gress

In this diabolical inversion, the world offers its young to feed the beast. It sacrifices life in exchange for power, pleasure, and control.

But, as Gress goes on to demonstrate, Mary does the opposite.

She crushes the serpent’s head not with violence, but with a yes—a fiat to life. Where the culture of death offers life for death, the culture of Christ offers death for life. He who dies gives life eternal. One kingdom consumes; the other redeems.

In the end, both the world and Christ promise a reward. One decays and dies. The other lasts unto everlasting life.

Heroism Begins at Home; the “Domestic Church”

The Fantastic Four might not preach the Gospel, but their story surprisingly affirms some of its most vital truths. In a world where power, fear, and self-interest often dominate the narrative, this film offers something refreshing: a vision of family as sacred, of children as irreplaceable, and of moral responsibility as the highest form of heroism.

True heroism isn’t found in flashy battles or cosmic powers. It’s found in a father refusing to abandon his child. In a mother holding her family together. In choosing what is right—not what is easy. Ergo, this is the making of saints. The unrepeatable, unmistakable mark of becoming who you are. 

“Christian family, become what you are. As the ‘domestic church,’ the family is summoned by the Church to participate in her prophetic, priestly and kingly mission in its own unique and special way.” (Familiaris Consortio, Section 17)

Even secular storytelling, at its best, can echo eternal truths. This film is a reminder: the family is still the most heroic institution in the world. And the call to protect, nurture, and love—especially when it costs us something—is the real superpower we all have access to.