The Flash (2023)

It seemed like a bizarre twist of fate that I saw The Flash exactly ten years to the day after first seeing Man of Steel. (Save your ticket stubs, friends.) So much of The Flash revolves around a sideways retelling of the events of Man of Steel, while at the same time serving as the ostensible finale for the cinematic universe that began with Henry Cavill’s debut as Superman. For this reason – and so many more – it is a challenge to think of The Flash as its own thing, as a superhero movie unto itself. The Flash is by and large a fun time at the movies, but it is so nakedly corporate and so eager to shuffle another franchise off this cinematic coil – and consequently it is difficult for this fan in particular to celebrate and embrace it wholesale.
 
After the events of Zack Snyder’s Justice League, Barry Allen (Ezra Miller) has unlocked the ability to travel backward in time. Hoping to exonerate his wrongfully-imprisoned father, Barry changes the past to prevent his mother’s murder – but in so doing, he creates a universe with no metahumans to stop the invasion of General Zod (Michael Shannon). With only the fiery Kara Zor-El (Sasha Calle), an aging Batman (Michael Keaton), and his own alternate universe doppelganger (Miller again), Barry must either save the present, restore the past, or lose the future.
 
At the center of whatever you make of The Flash is the cauldron of personal and legal challenges in which Ezra Miller is currently embroiled. A fine enough Flash in ZSJL – and a decent, if overly Spider-Man-esque, variation in the theatrical Justice League – Miller never presented as irreplaceable. And for Warner Bros. to pin their hopes on a film starring not one, but two Ezra Millers, while simultaneously claiming that Batgirl was unreleasable, seemed like such a curious choice. Here again, Miller is quite fun as both Barrys, giving suitably nuanced performances to differentiate the two, but it is equally hard to watch the film and not imagine a less problematic performer in the role.
 
As if to distract from the Miller of it all, the film brings in scores of old faces and a few new ones, too, and on that count I must concede it works. No matter what baggage you bring to the theater with you, there is an undeniable thrill from revisiting Stately Wayne Manor and seeing Michael Keaton fly a Batplane with Danny Elfman’s score thrumming in the background. Keaton has not lost a step as Batman, reinhabiting his idiosyncratic Bruce Wayne with ease. Meanwhile, the other returning Michael reprises his General Zod, albeit with little of the personality and narrative heft that Shannon brought to Man of Steel. It’s a treat to see his Zod again, but his performance feels a bit like someone bringing a favorite action figure out of the toybox and playing only the hits.
 
On the flip side, Sasha Calle’s Kara is scratching the surface of a very interesting take on the character, though she has far less to do than the trailers let on. Still, playing up her role as Superman’s older cousin and riffing on the Flashpoint comics, Calle makes a compelling case for being more than just one cast-off universe’s Supergirl. If the reports bear out the Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow film we’ve been promised, I’d say it’s worth giving Calle a fuller shot at the role.
 
And yet, hard as I tried to watch The Flash as its own one-off film about the Scarlet Speedster, it was so very difficult not to view the film as a kind of living funeral, an elegiac wake for an aborted cinematic universe that I’m going to miss so terribly much. For all that it tries to be a celebration of the DC film universe writ large, it was impossible – at least for me – not to feel an accompanying pang of sadness. This, for example, is likely the last time we’ll see Ben Affleck as Batman, and his performance is so touching, partly because it’s an absolutely wretched way to say goodbye, even while he wrings such effective pathos from the bare minimum that the script gives him to do. Ditto Miller, whose performance is nothing overly special until the final act, which gives us a powerful emotional climax that the film scarcely deserves. If this is indeed the final run for this Barry Allen, what a waste to leave just when things were getting interesting.
 
I made the mistake of watching the Flash scenes from Zack Snyder’s Justice League the night before seeing The Flash. It was a mistake because that iteration of the character was so fun and so fresh that I couldn’t wait for more Barry Allen. Those super-speed scenes looked crisp, and I still get a little emotional at Barry’s big “Make your own future. Make your own past” moment. By comparison, The Flash is lousy with muddled CGI (which director Andy Muschietti, bafflingly, insists is deliberate) and the loud-and-clear message is instead, “Stop living your past.” It’s advice that the film might well have taken, riddled as it is with cameos, callbacks, and references – only a few of which are actually well-used and not, frankly, ghoulish. 
 
At the end of the day, though, The Flash is entertaining enough. It’s fun enough. It’s fine. It’s not good enough to merit the extensive discourse around Ezra Miller’s employability. It’s not a great sendoff for the so-called Snyderverse. It’s not an auspicious beginning for the new James Gunn universe – if indeed that’s what The Flash would ever have been. And it’s not even a loving highlight reel for DC Universes gone by, dangling most of its shiny cameos like baubles on a Christmas tree. It’s junk food, albeit junk food that happens to star some of my favorite fictional characters. But if it’s going to leave my preferred interpretations of those characters lying face-down in a puddle, turning them into punchlines instead of paragons, this might just be where I jump off the cosmic treadmill.
 

The Flash is rated PG-13 for “sequences of violence and action, some strong language, and partial nudity.” Directed by Andy Muschietti. Written by Christina Hodson, John Francis Daley, Jonathan Goldstein, and Joby Harold. Based on the DC Comics. Starring Ezra Miller, Sasha Calle, Michael Shannon, Ron Livingston, Maribel Verdú, Kiersey Clemons, and Michael Keaton.

Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021)

While I originally said good things – twice – about the theatrical cut of Justice League, those takes essentially amounted to “some Justice League is better than no Justice League.” As time went by, though, we could see more clearly the seams in that exquisite corpse, to say nothing of the fairly horrifying allegations plaguing an already troubled production. Cut to four years later: the #SnyderCut has been released (on HBO Max, of all places), and it may not surprise you to hear that I loved every minute of its four-hour runtime; I could happily have enjoyed another three hours of Zack Snyder’s Justice League.

Guilt-ridden over his role in the death of Superman (Henry Cavill), Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck) scours the globe for superpowered individuals after learning from Lex Luthor that an evil force is headed for earth. That selfsame evil, the fearsome Steppenwolf (Ciarán Hinds), has come in search of the newly-awakened Mother Boxes, whose primordial slumber was disturbed when Superman died. Before it’s too late, Batman must convince Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot), The Flash (Ezra Miller), Cyborg (Ray Fisher), and Aquaman (Jason Momoa) to fight beside him.

 

If Zack Snyder has a tank, I’m solidly in it. Back in 2017, I spent the better part of five months analyzing Batman v Superman, only confirming my suspicions that it’s one of my top three favorite comic book films of all time (the other two being, I think, The Dark Knight and Captain America: The Winter Soldier). So I freely admit that I’ve got a bit of a predisposition bias, but I’ll also admit that it feels good to finally see the movie I was promised four years ago. I vividly recall leaving the theater after seeing Justice League, thinking about all the scenes from the trailers that hadn’t made their way to the theatrical release. Little did I know that only half an hour of Snyder’s footage made its way into the theatrical cut – and with Snyder’s vision finally fulfilled, I don’t think I’ll ever need to go back to the 2017 edit.

 

For one, Zack Snyder’s Justice League feels so much deeper and richer, and not simply because we spend so much more time in it. Someday, perhaps, you’ll see a post (or twenty) about the differences between versions, and so I’ll not spend much time on it here. But here’s a case in point: you may recall the moment in the 2017 League when Queen Hippolyta (Connie Nielsen) launches a flaming arrow into an ancient temple in man’s world. In the theatrical cut, it’s presented as just one more thing Amazons know how to do, a way to get Wonder Woman interested in the plot, yet in ZSJL, there’s a whole ceremony to accompany it; the temple has intense significance for the Amazons; and that communication from Themyscira sets Diana Prince on a quest for knowledge. And all along, we feel Diana’s pain at leaving her homeland behind, something of which we saw not even a glimmer in the theatrical cut. Throughout ZSJL, Snyder and fellow writers Chris Terrio and Will Beall take great pains to deepen the world of the Justice League, giving the characters a full-fledged mythology to enter. Everything seems thought out, with a reason for being.

 

The greatest strength in ZSJL is its characters, especially (and perhaps surprisingly) The Flash and Cyborg – the former reduced in 2017 to a Spider-Man caricature, the latter all but erased from the film after Snyder left the project. Without a standalone film of their own just yet, both characters get to take center stage; where they felt compulsory inclusions in 2017, teases for films that never came to pass, here they feel like integral members of the team, with standout sequences that introduce them to audiences. The Flash, Barry Allen, gets a playful moment to demonstrate the full range of his powers during his meet-cute rescuing Iris West (Kiersey Clemons) from a runaway truck. Ray Fisher’s Cyborg, though, emerges as the heart of the film, with a full character arc that reminds one a great deal of Superman’s arc in Man of Steel. Put another way, after watching ZSJL, you can understand why Fisher more than the rest was embittered by the process of reshoots and reedits: this should be a star-making performance, not a footnote in a painfully brief filmography.

 

There are moments in ZSJL that you’ll recognize from the theatrical cut, shots that have space to breathe in this version. But I was truly struck by the moment when Barry Allen tells his father (Billy Crudup) he’s landed a job in a crime lab to help prove his innocence. In the theatrical cut, this felt almost obligatory, a tease for Barry’s future. Here it feels like the culmination of Barry’s arc, bouncing from dead-end gig to gig before he finds his destiny. Far from feeling compulsory, this moment actually got me choked up at Crudup’s evident joy seeing his son succeed, at Barry’s newfound confidence in his future. It’s this sort of character moment that makes ZSJL sing. Things happen in this film because they matter to the characters, and it’s the characters – not studio fiat – who drive the momentum of the plot. Nowhere is this more evident than in the character of Bruce Wayne, whose immense guilt and strategic forethinking refuel his vigilante mission into forming an army to prepare for war. Now that the reshoot footage has been excised, all that’s left of Affleck’s performance is lean, peak Batman, equally driven and haunted but finally, happily, leaning on the stalwart Alfred (Jeremy Irons), who becomes like a den mother to the newly-formed League.

 

Ultimately what Zack Snyder’s Justice League accomplishes is no less than encapsulating the entire potential of the superhero genre. These stories stick with us because they allow us to imagine ourselves as our best selves; they reassure us that hope is not lost, that we will always have one more chance to save ourselves from our own worst demons. Running underneath the surface of the film is the reminder that this sort of movie isn’t supposed to happen – studios don’t change their minds and admit they were wrong. Directors don’t get second chances when an industry reboots itself away from their vision. Ever since The Magnificent Ambersons, when studio meddling literally burned the footage Orson Welles shot to spite him, filmmakers who lose control of their movies don’t get them back, and audiences seldom get to see an unexpurgated vision, least of all one restored after being looted and reanimated. But Zack Snyder’s Justice League is proof that hope is never in vain; for those of us who beat the drum for four years, hashtagging to keep the fire going, ZSJLis a promise fulfilled, a warming moment of reciprocal gratitude. And it’s a story about second chances; while the heroes all have personal wrongs they need to right, even the villain is looking for redemption from his torturous past. 

 

But above all, it’s a fulfillment of the promise Jor-El made to his son back in Man of Steel, eight long years ago: “You will give the people an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you, they will stumble, they will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders.” By the end, as the heroes watch the sun rise over the battlefield, I couldn’t help muttering, “They will join you in the sun.” Zack Snyder and the fanbase have accomplished wonders. It’s a miracle this movie even exists, and after a year of endless lockdowns and the triumph of pessimism, perhaps we all need a reminder that the dawn is coming – that each one of us has the potential to save the world. The only thing holding us back is ourselves. Our nature, all of us, is to fly. 

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is rated R for “violence and some language.” Directed by Zack Snyder. Written by Zack Snyder, Chris Terrio, and Will Beall. Starring Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Gal Gadot, Ray Fisher, Jason Momoa, Ezra Miller, Jeremy Irons, Amy Adams, and Ciarán Hinds.

Fear not, loyal readers – Monster March continues tomorrow.

Take Two Tuesday: Justice League (2017) or... Looking at the League through Snyder-Colored Glasses, Everything is Whedon Now

Last year, I spent more than four months going through Batman v Superman in exhaustive detail, and so it may not come as a surprise to readers of this blog that I do occasionally find it difficult to remain objective about this sort of thing. Though I maintain that there is objective gold in BvS, occluded by its occasional thematic indigestibility, I freely admit that much of what I like about Justice League is born out of my desire to like the movie.

I can see why the average filmgoer would not have liked this film, and I can certainly sympathize with the disciples of Zack Snyder (largely being one myself). As before, I do not want to relitigate the “Snyder v Whedon: Dawn of Reshoots” guessing game; indeed, I’d wager that within five years, if Snyder’s recent social media presence is any barometer, we’ll know more concretely about one or both sides of the question. What I think is key, though, is not to think of this as a Snyder film – it isn’t. It is closer to a Joss Whedon film, particularly his Avengers duology, but like the Justice League comic itself it more closely resembles a “greatest hits” collection of all the things that work so far about the DC universe. We have the strong casting of Ben Affleck, Gal Gadot, and Henry Cavill; we have the striking visual design of Gotham, Metropolis, and Themyscira; and we get new pieces bolted on to those aspects, including – most striking on this rewatch – a terrifically engaging Ezra Miller as The Flash, whose boisterous Spider-Man charm is a brilliant audience substitute for a guy who’s really just excited to be in the company of gods and heroes.

Sitting a few feet from the screen on home video rather than dozens of feet in the theater, the film looks different. Some of the CGI on Henry Cavill’s Gumby mouth looks dodgier, though Steppenwolf acquits himself better, and there are at least two surprising moments when a green screen is solidly visible (once on Aquaman’s cheek, once on Flash’s boot). Where Batman v Superman worked very hard to bring superheroes into our world and give us a stylized vision of the struggles of their souls, Justice League follows instead the giddiness of The Flash and runs with an aesthetic that reminds one of the original X-Men film, in which the prevailing mood was, “Look, the comics are walking around!” While a lot of folks took Whedon to task for apparently altering the color grading of the film, I think it helps distance the film from the “Snyder Cut” we may never see, instead taking the movie into a surrealistic cartoon corner that feels more like a comic book come to life, rather than a comic book coming into my life.

On rewatch, consciously trying to watch Justice League as the next superhero film in a long tradition and looking for points of connection rather than disconnect, it does feel very much like an episode of the 2001-2004 Justice League cartoon as informed by The Avengers. We have the same emphasis on team dynamics, informed by the unhealthy mistrust that, for better or for worse, holds the Avengers together. Whedon (or Snyder – at this point, who cares?) cribs a few notes from his playbook with a scene that echoes the “we’re a timebomb” argument from The Avengers; in the film’s climax, which I previously described as “airlifted from Sokovia,” reprises the family-as-microcosm we saw menaced by Ultron, which in turn syncs up with Batman’s direction to The Flash: “Save one.” Save one, then a truck, then the world. These heroes ought to be about hope, about the belief that one human being can become something greater and can save the world, and in Justice League I believe that Batman learns that lesson enough to teach it to the next generation. I buy that Wonder Woman is the gifted and capable leader of the team. I buy that Flash and Cyborg rise to the challenge. And I completely accept that the very idea of Superman is enough to make them all believe in the promise of tomorrow, not least because I believe that too.

Back in November, I found myself enjoying Justice League. Five months later, I still liked Justice League, but I liked it from a different angle, a sideways enjoyment of the film for what it was and not in spite of what it could have been. I don’t know that I will go to the mat for Justice League in the way that I will, every time, for Batman v Superman, and I will always believe that there is a universe out there somewhere in which Zack Snyder was given the time and the resources to complete the vision he introduced with Man of Steel. I had hoped to change minds about Batman v Superman with my “10 @ a Time” series, but I accept that it’s not worth the effort to try with Justice League. You get out of this movie what you seek to find in it, and as it stands, this Justice League is fun enough to justify each matching set of hours I choose to spend with it.

Justice League (2017)

I haven’t seen Kenneth Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express yet, but I had a real Hercule Poirot moment as the credits rolled on Justice League, because I was of two minds about the whole thing. On the one hand, I’d had a great time with the film and felt a charge of excitement as I tried to calculate when I could see it next. On the other hand, I felt a distinct note of sadness for the Justice League I hadn’t seen, the one Zack Snyder had been unable to finish (Joss Whedon famously stepped in during post-production, and it shows). But as I looked around the theater, I heard people clapping (I can’t remember the last time that happened), saw them turning in their seats to talk to complete strangers about this or that aspect of the film – Justice League had brought us all together just as its protagonists are united. In these times, that alone is a superheroic feat.

The death of Superman (Henry Cavill) has opened the world to new threats, and Batman (Ben Affleck) knows that something wicked this way comes. With the help of his sardonic butler Alfred (Jeremy Irons), Batman brings together Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot), The Flash (Ezra Miller), Aquaman (Jason Momoa), and Cyborg (Ray Fisher) to honor the legacy of Superman and repel the invading apocalyptic forces of Steppenwolf (Ciarán Hinds), who’s come to earth to finish the job of conquest he began millennia ago.

Having just spent the last eighteen weeks poring over Batman v Superman in exhaustive detail, it was difficult not to hope that Justice League had been a little more like its predecessor. The overall good feeling engendered by the film puts much of that yearning to bed, but a part of me will always wonder (at least, unless we get yet another “extended cut”) what Snyder had up his sleeve. Given the gratifying points of contact between Man of Steel and BvS, how much more might Snyder have pulled his trilogy together? We get glimpses of that Justice League, to be sure – as when Batman clings hopefully to “a fragment of a chance,” having previously feared “even a one-percent chance” – but the sheer volume of unused footage from the trailers makes me hope that one day, somehow, we’ll see an unfettered version of Snyder’s vision (perhaps, dare I say it, as a comic book?).

Indeed, it’s difficult to overstate the influence of Joss Whedon. There are many scenes reminiscent of his Avengers duology, up to and including the presence of two post-credits sequences. (I know, I didn’t think DC was doing those, either.) There are several scenes of the League bickering, recalling the internecine quarrels aboard the helicarrier in Avengers, and there’s a pretty striking reprise from Age of Ultron that seems airlifted from Sokovia. Moreover, Whedon’s penchant for quippy dialogue is abundant in Justice League, and it fits characters like The Flash and Alfred quite perfectly. Batman benefits from this brighter side, something foreshadowed in his evolution in BvS’s third act, though Whedon builds a bridge perhaps too far, with only one false note where a Batman one-liner might have better suited Aquaman or The Flash (a second gag flops when it verges crassly anatomical but is rescued by the appearance of the Lasso of Truth). Even Danny Elfman, who replaced Junkie XL at the eleventh hour and performed similarly for Whedon on Age of Ultron, gets in on the riffing game with a score that seems to have a few notes from the Marvel side of the street.

Setting aside the might-have-beens and the what-ifs for the version we did get, though, it’s a real crowd-pleaser. Tightly edited at just this side of two hours, Justice League clips along with barely any perceptible dead weight; though teasing multiple films to come (and with less interruption than in BvS), many of those teases are in service to introducing Flash, Aquaman, and Cyborg to the DC filmic universe. Cyborg in particular acquits himself quite well by fitting into the larger narrative tapestry, though it’s Ezra Miller’s Flash who ought to become a fan favorite, quickly distinguishing himself from television’s Grant Gustin as an alternate but no less recognizable Barry Allen. Of course, I’m quite fond of Ben Affleck and Gal Gadot, who continue to develop their respective heroes through the cauldron of BvS into real team players, and I do hope to see more of them in standalone franchises.

Without losing the broad appeal of a crowd-pleaser, Justice League manages to pack in a number of surprises, many of them in the category of “Wow, they went there!” Batman v Superman wasn’t long on courage, you’ll recall, taking the exact opposite of the easy path, where Justice League plays it a little safer – a villain whose plan is quite simple, team dynamics that proceed without complication, and in-universe references that should seem quite familiar to audiences, like J.K. Simmons as Commissioner Gordon, whom everyone ought to recognize by his mustache alone if not by his ignition of the Bat-signal. There are some risks taken in the film, as when Aquaman’s backstory is given brief allusion in a conversation with the merwoman who would be queen (Amber Heard as Mera) – and while I don’t want to play “Snyder or Whedon?” too much, this scene’s dense mythology is precisely the sort of thing of which I wanted to see considerably more, for I loved BvS’s profoundly immersive sense of depth.

But I can’t overstate how good Justice League felt. I had a big grin on my face for most of the movie, partly because I loved all the small references that the general audience might have missed but also because Justice League reminded me very much of the 2001 cartoon of the same name. Like the eponymous cartoon, Justice League does a solid job distilling its characters to their cores, bouncing them off each other, and uniting them against a threat that merits their collective attention. It is just jolly good fun to see these mythic archetypes bouncing off each other, and I do wish there could have been more of it because this is a movie that accesses the hopefulness of superheroes and the inherent wish-fulfillment of how awesome (in multiple senses of the words) these characters are. It’s a film that clips by so briskly that you’re ready to queue it up as soon as the credits have rolled. I don’t think too many people will be surprised to hear I enjoyed the film – I did go in with a clear head and am willing to admit when things didn’t work – but I do think audiences will be surprised at how grievously the critical majority have misjudged this film.

Justice League is rated PG-13 for “sequences of sci-fi violence and action.” Directed by Zack Snyder (and Joss Whedon). Written by Chris Terrio, Zack Snyder, and Joss Whedon. Based on the DC Comics. Starring Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Amy Adams, Gal Gadot, Ezra Miller, Jason Momoa, Ray Fisher, Jeremy Irons, Diane Lane, and Ciarán Hinds.