I'm not sure if you've heard, but there are quite a few superhero flicks out there nowadays—and The Flash is a pretty damn complicated one. I guess we start with the Ezra Miller of it all. Over the past few years, Miller, the star of the film, has faced allegations of grooming. They've been arrested twice—once for second-degree assault, another for disorderly conduct and harassment. According to certain individuals who interacted with Miller, they "exhibited frightening emotional outbursts, carried firearms, or left them feeling unsafe."
In August, Miller responded to the numerous reports detailing their behavior. “Having recently gone through a time of intense crisis, I now understand that I am suffering complex mental health issues and have begun ongoing treatment,” they said. “I want to apologize to everyone that I have alarmed and upset with my past behavior. I am committed to doing the necessary work to get back to a healthy, safe and productive stage in my life.”
At one point, there was speculation that Warner Bros. would axe The Flash, throwing it wherever Batgirl lives. That never happened—so here we are, with the film finally in theaters this weekend. But was it worth months of heavy promotion from director Andy Muschietti and Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav, who called The Flash "one of the greatest superhero movies ever made" and "a masterpiece?”
If you're familiar with the nature of the allegations against Miller, it feels impossible to divorce from watching not one, but the two Ezra Millers (as multiple versions of Barry Allen throughout time) who carry The Flash. There is a lot of good in this film. There's also quite a fair amount of bad—and so many quips, cameos, characters, explosions, and rewinds of movies you've already seen, that you might not even care to give a yay/nay to this particular capes and costumes romp. But it is certainly no masterpiece.
The Flash begins as a faithful next chapter in Zack Snyder's long-abandoned DC Universe, catching up with speedster Barry Allen (Miller), who can both run and deliver Marvel-esque zingers at the speed of light. He's still buddies with Batfleck (a.k.a. Ben Affleck's Bruce Wayne), another long-abandoned character. One night, Allen dashes away in a fit of anger, accidentally running so fast that he discovers another new superpower: time-travel, or at least the ability to rewind the past. The a-ha moment: Go back in time, make sure his mother was never killed (a crime Allen's father has been wrongly jailed for), and live happily ever after.
You guessed it: He fucks everything up. Cue two Ezra Millers, alternate-universe Batmen, an unasked-for throwback to 2013's Man of Steel, and the expository scene revealing the concept of the multiverse. (This time, it's explained via dried spaghetti!)
In regard to the good, Michael Keaton's Batman is back, and he'll make you want an '80s-ified, Top Gun: Maverick-esque hoorah for his version of the character. In a clever pivot, this Bruce Wayne is something we've rarely seen: satisfied. The man is finally happy, at peace with the fact that his parents are never coming back—and he doesn't need to avenge them, either. Keaton plays Wayne with a sort of wisened cheekiness. Plus, he still kicks ass, and I don't care how much CGI it took to get the 71-year-old Keaton there. Sasha Calle's Supergirl is stellar, as well—even with the small sample size, I prefer her steely, empathetic take on the hero to Henry Cavill's Kyptonian. As you likely guessed, a few more friends pop in to say hello along the way, none of which I'll spoil here.
The not-so-good? Well, not only is the multiverse plot veering on overdone, but a phenomenal multiverse-focused film just happened to hit theaters a couple weeks ago. In the hands of Into the Spider-Verse, the idea of infinite worlds has the potential to tell infinite stories: ones full of complex, colorful characters, much like the ones who inhabit our own. In The Flash? Merely a vehicle to stuff the holy shit-level cameo (which, yes, exists in The Flash) that'll give you a cheap thrill, and fork out your money for the next one of these, where said cameo might show up, too. By the way: it's impossible to tell whether or not The Flash is the first glimpse of James Gunn's DC universe, or the dying breaths of Zack Snyder's doom-and-gloom playground? That's probably by design—the answer is pending this week's box-office total.
Which brings us back to the beginning: Was it worth bulldozing through all of the allegations against Miller and the advent of Gunn's new slate of DC films, just so we can see The Flash tango with Snyder's Justice League (we think) one last time?
It wasn't. It'd be one thing if there was intent behind The Flash: a driving motif other than we need to accept we can't change the past, or a new spin on its titular hero that promises an arc in future films. (Again, I defer to Into the Spider-Verse for how to pull that off.) But The Flash, with all its CGI soup, cameos, opening and closing curtains, is a movie designed to make you look over here, then look over there, and make you forget.
