In theaters

FANTASTIC FOUR, directed by Tim Story, written by Mark Frost and Michael France, based on the Marvel comic book by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, 105 minutes, rated PG-13.

It’s impossible to watch Tim Story’s disappointing superhero movie, “Fantastic Four,” without being reminded of last year’s Academy Award-winning superhero movie, “The Incredibles.” In every sense, the latter movie – which also follows four superheroes trying to defeat a nasty little zealot with an attitude problem – is superior.

The similarities don’t end with the story line.

For instance, “Fantastic Four” features Jessica Alba as Sue Storm, who has the power to become invisible and create force fields, just as teenage Violet could in “The Incredibles.” There’s Dr. Reed Richards (Ioan Gruffudd), otherwise known as Mr. Fantastic, who recalls Violet’s mother, Elastigirl, in that he can stretch his limbs to infinity and beyond.

There’s Ben Grimm (Michael Chiklis), aka. The Thing, who brings to mind Mr. Incredible in his bulk and body issues, which plunge deep into the doldrums long before they improve as the story unfolds.

Rounding out the Four is the Human Torch ( Chris Evans), who is here to provide comic relief – as Dash was in “The Incredibles” – and who indirectly recalls Dash in the sheer speed he can achieve while burning through the air.

As his name implies, Torch possesses the unique ability to generate fire at will. He can snap his fingers and – poof! – there’s a flame or, for that matter, a supernova. Too bad he didn’t turn either on this movie.

While “Fantastic Four” was created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in 1961 and thus can’t be accused of ripping off “The Incredibles,” its familiarity doesn’t let it off the hook. One only has to look at how Christopher Nolan approached “Batman Begins” to see how Story should have approached his own film about the origins of well-known characters.

Instead of breaking free from expectations and raising the bar for superhero movies, as Nolan did by focusing on the core of who Batman is, Story never goes deeper than the ink on a comic book. His film about five people whose DNA is altered by a radioactive space cloud features no surprises. It’s never more than slight, uninteresting kitsch wrapped around some of the worst special effects of the year.

Not even the evil fifth person, Victor Von Doom (Julian McMahon), has the necessary bite to be a great villain. For much of the movie, he’s just seen festering along the edges, wringing his hands and smirking malevolently, until his electrical powers are called upon to generate some trouble in the flame-out finale.

This is the third movie in as many weeks that relies on hundreds of extras to bolster key moments of dread. But unlike “Land of the Dead” and “War of the Worlds,” in which the extras effectively darkened the mood of each movie, here they are so poorly directed and so eager to draw attention to themselves, you want to fire the lot of them. Reacting to each catastrophe in warbling mock horror while their terrified eyes seek out the camera, it’s their presence in this movie that serves to break an already shaky spell.

Grade: D

On video and DVD

MILLION DOLLAR BABY, directed by Clint Eastwood, written by Paul Haggis, 133 minutes, rated PG-13.

The best movie of Clint Eastwood’s career is the story of Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank), a 31-year-old, self-described piece of “trash” whose dream is to become a prize-winning boxer under Frankie Dunn (Eastwood), a gruff boxing trainer and manager who “doesn’t train girlies” and who wants Maggie out of his gym.

But Maggie isn’t going anywhere. And so, with the encouragement of Frankie’s best friend, Scrap (Morgan Freeman), who narrates the film and helps to manage Frankie’s gym, Maggie perseveres until Frankie acquiesces. He agrees to train and manage her, so long as she does things his way.

There’s nothing new in that story, but it’s what Eastwood does with it that makes “Million Dollar Baby” worth as many accolades – the film transcends the sport.

What Frankie and Maggie find in each other is something deeper than the sport that binds them. As Maggie rises up through the ranks with a stunning series of wins – she’s a natural in the ring, as light on her feet as Eastwood is behind the camera – Frankie realizes a relationship with her that he doesn’t share with his estranged daughter. Likewise, Maggie realizes with Frankie the relationship she can’t have with her family, whose cruelty knows no limits.

As such, “Million Dollar Baby” is about the surrogate families we create for ourselves – the relationships we choose to have, rather than the relationships born out of blood. It creates an emotional bond with its audience that’s as solid and as meaningful as anything shared between its characters. You invest yourself so completely in the story – and in the lives of Frankie, Maggie and Scrap – that by the time Eastwood drives home his final, awful twist, you’re left spent.

Superbly crafted and acted, with an unassuming score composed by Eastwood himself, “Million Dollar Baby” is timeless, classic, seemingly effortless.

It’s the winner of four Academy Awards – Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress and Best Supporting Actor for the essential Morgan Freeman.

Grade: A

Christopher Smith is the Bangor Daily News film critic. His reviews appear Mondays and Fridays in Discovering and Happening, respectively, weekends in Television, and are archived at RottenTomatoes.com. He may be reached at BDNFilm1@aol.com.