Doomed! The Untold Story Of Roger Corman's Fantastic Four

And The Hobby Shop

A long time ago, superheroes did not regularly show up on movie marquees. The rights to make superhero movies were not considered lucrative, and they often bounced from one dubious production studio to another. The idea of a successful superhero movie resonated with filmmakers, but they knew the costs would be exorbitant, and audiences would require a lot of cajoling to have to buy tickets for such pulpy, silly fare. And in the early nineties, they remembered “Superman: The Movie”. But they also remembered “Superman IV: The Quest For Peace”.

In the 90’s, Constantin Film found themselves in possession of the rights to Marvel’s First Family, the Fantastic Four. But management wasn’t exactly very tight within the walls of the Constantin operation – at the time, they were coming off titles like “The Neverending Story”, “The Name Of The Rose” and “Last Exit To Brooklyn”, a successful and diverse slate. Their neglectful attitude towards this superhero package they possessed obscured the fact it was but a lease – the rights would soon lapse back to Marvel unless Constantin began making the film. Fortunately, there was no need to RELEASE a film in order to maintain the rights to the property. Constantin only needed to MAKE the movie, contributing the minimal amount of effort possible. Enlisting the no-budget genius Roger Corman as a producer, “Fantastic Four” was born. Sort of.

This relatively no-frills documentary captures the cast and crew as, in hindsight, they look back on the making of a movie that was ultimately just a ruse. Young and eager, they were convinced it would be their first defining role in the industry, and no one was told that the plans for the film were to ultimately shelve it. It’s a practice that echoes today: with studios overestimating the popularity of streaming, there have been several projects that have been finished and then buried, never to be seen. Warner Bros.’ “Batgirl” made headlines for this reason, but Disney also permanently shelved an anime based on “Alien” completed under the Fox regime before the studio was purchased by Disney. There are countless other cases, revolving around fairly marketable properties.

I would say hardcore fans will love this, but the normies need not apply. This is not a tale of tortured artists dominated and disrespected by heartless executives. Nearly everyone involved in the film looks back in awe and excitement over what might have been. No one has any regrets that their work landed on the cutting room floor permanently. And why not? Before the advent of green screen, special effects movies were made with as much happening in-frame as possible. How could a young actor not enjoy being surrounded by goofy props and ridiculous costumes, asked to believe in the impossible? I have seen this “Fantastic Four” film in question, which is now circulated via bootlegs and illicit streaming all over the internet. Cheap, silly, disposable — it is not the best way to spend ninety minutes. But in a few crucial ways, there are positive elements present that were not seen in the silly 2005 adaptation (yes, eventually from Constantin), nor the joyless, incomprehensible 2015 edit that Fox somehow called a finished film. I do think they were the first, and only, people to get Doctor Doom right.

There was a period when cast and crew figured their work was gone forever, never to be seen. It was only the late nineties when comic book conventions started producing bootlegs of the film, allowing fans a chance to witness a movie that, today, STILL isn’t legally available. All those involved in the film finally realized, there it was. You could not take that away from them. I wish the same could be said of creative projects made in prison.

There are “hobby shops” in federal prisons, to accommodate artists, painters, craftmakers. Most of the time, the rules are that you cannot take your craft items out of the hobby shop. You have to purchase a lock and a locker and keep finished work there, or apply to have it sent home. You cannot typically bring your artwork back to your room, to your cell, your locker. There was some leniency in that matter, unless for some reason you were targeted by guards arbitrarily. Guards can conduct searches of your area without any probable cause necessary. Sometimes they are searching for contraband, sometimes they are simply illustrating a point. That would be, your entire life is your bed and this locker, and we can do anything we want with it. There is a rule that guards must place everything removed during a search back to where it belonged initially. I literally have not seen this rule followed once. After a search all of your books, your clothes, any toiletries, they could very well end up on the floor, in a mess, intermingled with the possessions of another man. It happened to me dozens of times.

I met several talented artists when I was down, men who were innately skilled with the paintbrush, who were gifted with embroidery talents. Many created art for their own pleasure, but often they assembled crafts to maintain a business. I had several birthday cards made while I was in prison to be sent to people on the outside. Many men do not have a family to place money on their books, and they survive with a hustle. Artwork was the hustle for many men. But every man who was incarcerated and who had a flair for the canvas or the page can tell you all the times they completed a piece only for the guards to dismantle and trample and leave in a heap in the middle of the floor. It’s a memory that doesn’t ever quite fade.