The Flash Review: A Charming Cacophony of a Crisis Event

The first — but definitely not the last — thing that surprised me about The Flash actually occurred in the movie's opening. The fanfare chronologically whizzes through decades of Warner Bros. and DC logos, either in an effort to celebrate the former's ongoing 100th anniversary, or a nod to the time-traveling nature of the movie you're about to watch. Either way, seeing this string of DC emblems projected on the big screen feels incredibly fitting for The Flash's protagonist, Barry Allen — one logo graces the cover of his trailblazing first comic appearance, which accidentally kicked off the "Silver Age" of superhero storytelling; another is used during his shocking death in Crisis on Infinite Earths; and a completely different one is used amid his resurrection in Final Crisis. (Hell, even this particular incarnation of The Flash movie was officially put into development two logos ago.) Through countless ups and downs and reinventions, Barry Allen's story has been a key component of the larger DC story – something that his long-awaited The Flash solo movie simultaneously embraces, and nearly collapses under the weight of. The Flash is a clever, entertaining, but convoluted snapshot of the stories DC has told onscreen over the years. 

The Flash follows Barry Allen (Ezra Miller) as he navigates his larger-than-life Justice League tenure with his unlucky personal life – including his father Henry (Ron Livingston) being jailed for his mother Nora's (Maribel Verdu) inexplicable and tragic murder years prior. When an unconventional use of Barry's super-speed unlocks the ability to travel great lengths of time, he uses it to prevent his mom's murder and sets up a chain reaction far beyond his expectations. Stuck in a new timeline where his mom is still alive, Barry joins forces with a younger version of himself, as well as Kara Zor-El / Supergirl (Sasha Calle) and a familiar-but-unfamiliar Bruce Wayne / Batman (Michael Keaton) to try to fix things. 

That synopsis feels like a massive oversimplification of what The Flash has to offer, both because of the film's smattering of surprises, and because the plot both is and isn't as streamlined as the premise might suggest. There's a fascinating sense of disjointedness on display during The Flash, which admittedly fits the titular character's high-octane gimmick, but often manifests like segments of multiple stronger movies smushed together. Every individual component of Christina Hodson's script is entertaining, but not necessarily on the same level and in the same way — even Barry's impossibly tender effort to see Nora alive again gets undercut moments later by Dude Where's My Car?-esque humor from younger Barry. Once Keaton and Calle's characters enter the fray (much later than the movie's marketing suggests) and expand the scope of the movie monumentally, that dissonance becomes more apparent.

The Flash only gets fleeting chances to embrace the gonzo direction it seems to be barreling towards — which could possibly be a side effect of the multiple behind-the-scenes regime changes that have occurred since the movie entered production, including James Gunn and Peter Safran's forthcoming "reset" of much of the DCU. There's absolutely a version of The Flash (either in the development stage or on the cutting room floor) that tried to adhere to the double-edged sword of the "Snyderverse" canon Miller's Barry originated in, or that tried too hard to pivot into a zanier new normal, or that ignored all of that pressure in favor of telling one strong standalone Barry Allen story. Instead, the end result sets out to be all of that and much more – and its effectiveness will vary from viewer to viewer.

The Flash also sets out to be, outside of The CW's "Crisis on Infinite Earths" television crossover a few years ago, the biggest multiverse story that DC has told on screen. While Barry has been associated with the multiverse gimmick for nearly his entire comic tenure, The Flash's implementation of it tries (outside of a few sequences directly homaging the comics) to pave its own ground. That manifests in some fascinating big swings, especially for viewers who have followed the nitty-gritty of DC's various adaptations: one cameo, which has unfortunately already been spoiled online, satisfyingly makes good on something that has eluded fans for several decades. But at the same time, The Flash's trip through the multiverse is often too superficial for its own good. For starters, the mechanics of time travel and the multiverse (which use very little of the established bedrock of DC's existing "rules") are cool in practice, but become more baffling with each passing moment.

The Flash's showcase of the other established DC sagas doesn't really go beyond the surface level, calling to mind the lesson of another DC property, the Teen Titans GO! episode "Nostalgia Is Not a Substitute for an Actual Story." Keaton's Batman is folded in with the barest minimum of the beloved pulpy iconography of his Tim Burton-helmed films, flattening the novelty of seeing him debate the specifics of the multiverse or fight a battle from 2013's biomechanical Man of Steel. Once we get a peek at the larger multiverse, it is definitely thrilling, but without much meaningful consequence (again, that could be because any consequence might have been saved for the now-scrapped Crisis movie was reportedly in the works amid The Flash's production). Ultimately, The Flash's multiverse celebrates DC in a cool, but by no means in a comprehensive way, evoking the feeling of glancing at a shelf of carefully curated action figures or DVDs. 

The Flash truly ends up being an ensemble piece, and the performances help glide the film through moments that might otherwise not land. Miller's take on the multiple Barrys is filled with exuberance, and they clearly have a stronger stamp on the character than in their supporting appearances in previous films. Keaton's return to Batman is missing some bite, especially compared to his quasi-Batman parody in Birdman, and his more recent superhero role as Marvel's Vulture, but is still a delight to watch nonetheless. Calle's Kara is stellar, capturing the heroine's very specific combination of rage and earnestness in every second of screen time — but by the time the movie's over, it feels like we've just barely gotten to know her. (Here's hoping the DCU's forthcoming Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow movie remedies that.) There are some genuinely great performances on the periphery, including Livingston delivering the perfect amount of pathos as the recast Henry Allen, Kiersey Clemons' Iris West exuding a charm that is a decade in the making, and Ben Affleck's no-nonsense Batman getting to go out in a lively blaze of glory. 

One of the most talked-about elements of The Flash is sure to be its CGI, which has moments of genuine creativity, both in lively action sequences and in the distinct physical manifestation of the multiverse, but a mixed bag of execution. Some of the sequences are so admirably ambitious that it's easy to overlook their dip into the uncanny valley, but the quieter moments (like superimposing the two Barrys into the same frame) become unnecessarily glaring. The other technical elements of The Flash, including Benjamin Wallfisch's sweeping score and Henry Branaham's inventive cinematography, help ground the film when it needs it most.

After years of being a proverbial white whale in the realm of superhero movies, The Flash finally exists in an undoubtedly fun, but somewhat inconsequential way. The movie's liveliness is infectious, and there are some genuinely unbelievable moments on display, but that might not be enough to fully cement it as a legendary part of DC's canon. Whether on the screen or on the page, Barry Allen's adventure is far from over — and, in one way or another, The Flash movie will always be a one-of-a-kind chapter of that.

Rating: 3 out of 5

The Flash will be released exclusively in theaters on Friday, June 16th.