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This review was originally published in June.
We are recirculating it now timed toThe Flashs streaming debuton HBO Max.
The allure of the multiverse is in its wild possibilities.
Every fantasy, every whim, every fancy becomes a direction in which they can spin the narrative.
InThe Flash directed by Andy Muschietti with a script credited to Christina Hodson there are only dead ends.
Its a deterioratingrest stop on the road to nowhere.
Instead,The Flashgives us more of the same gray slop.
In the end, the movie neither reckons with previous mistakes nor heeds the ideas of a new vision.
But inThe Flash,the status quo is fought for and maintained.
Hes otherwise lonely, with no real connections.
Now, this doesntquitetrack.
Not every Justice League member was a metahuman; Wonder Woman is a demigoddess, after all.
Barry and his highly obnoxious alternative self realize the gravity of their situation and seek help.
Lets get this out of the way: Ezra Miller is perfectly fine in the role.
Even so, Miller seems uncomfortable with such bombastic excess.
More successful is Keaton, who lends gravitas and gruff humor to the role of elder Bruce.
But the acting ranges from mildly amusing to completely checked out.
But the actors collective inability to generate excitement is not the fundamental problem.
Like so many superhero films before it,The Flashdoesnt know how to trade on its nostalgia.
The scars we have make us who we are, he intones with wisdom.
But where are the scars?
ButThe Flashand its lead end where they began.
There are no grand changes or revelations.
Will we ever find out the truth about Barrys mothers death?
This isnt a film so much as brand management in flailing motion.
Its the closing down of all the possibilities a multiverse is meant to represent.
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