The best comic book movies aren’t entirely cartoonish. The first two Spider-Man movies and “Batman Begins” boasted a moral landscape rendered in subtle shades of gray and multidimensional characters who, absent their costumes, would have been at home in a serious story. Bryan Singer’s X-Men movies had a sophisticated sensibility and subtext.

The juvenile Fantastic Four movies are a different matter, where a person’s superpower is a direct gamma-ray extension of his personality. The Human Torch is a hotshot. The boulder-like Thing is tough on the outside but a pussycat within. Scientist Reed Richards, pulled between domestic obligations and saving the world, literally stretches like taffy. And the petulant, much-ignored Sue Storm becomes invisible.

The target audience appears to be Cartoon Network fans. Anyone outside that category is likely to find “Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer” a dull slog no avalanche of razzle-dazzle digital hooey can camouflage. It’s not even entertaining camp.

In this interminable installment, the phenomenal foursome are awash in public adoration as they prepare for the marriage of Reed and Sue, an event that has whipped up a Brad and Angelina-sized media frenzy. The script mines the run-up to the wedding for rock-bottom gags. Reed dances at his extremely chaste bachelor party, his rubbery limbs extending for yards. The Thing downs several pitchers of beer, belching so lustily he makes a bystander’s hair flutter. The Torch’s date mentions her fireproof lingerie.

But in a development that would ruin the best event planner’s designs, a planet-consuming vortex is only days away from devouring Earth, following the interstellar path of its scout, the Silver Surfer. The nuptials go on hold while the team joins forces with their old nemesis, Victor Von Doom, to turn aside the threat. But can that peevish, metal-skinned double-crosser be trusted? Since he rewards the lackey who freed him from the cage that imprisoned him at the finale of the last film by blasting him with an energy bolt, indications aren’t favorable.

The story lurches from scene to scene, hinting at large swaths of missing transitional material. The inscrutable Surfer (voiced by Laurence Fishburne, who speaks perhaps a dozen lines) flies around the globe, digging giant craters for reasons that are never explained. For unknown reasons, his comet-like energy trail revives Doom from suspended animation.

The Torch (Chris Evans) mysteriously gains the ability to swap superpowers with friends, and just as inexplicably loses it after learning the value of teamwork. A major character is killed off and immediately forgotten by all involved. The Surfer can fly straight through solid matter, but when the Torch pursues him, he takes a more cinematic escape route through the traffic-clogged Holland Tunnel.

After declaring that he has no choice but to obey his all-powerful cosmic overlord, the Surfer abruptly changes his mind and effortlessly defeats his master. Logic is not at a premium in projects like this, but come on, people! Make an effort.

A game cast can often compensate for subpar material, and Michael Chiklis, acting under 60 pounds of orange latex, wins the performing honors. His banter with the cocky Evans has a nice balance of aggravation and affection. Ioan Gruffud’s Reed Richards, theoretically the group’s leader, is the least charismatic screen scientist since Fred MacMurray discovered Flubber, while the lovely and talent-free Jessica Alba plays Sue Storm with all the depth and psychological texture of an extra in a Pepsi commercial.

The film’s brief 90-minute running time is “Silver Surfer’s” only silver lining.