THE FLASH Review

The dominance of the comic book movie over the last twenty-something odd years has admittedly brought me plenty of joy and moments of pure cinematic euphoria, but as we reach what is at least our sixth multiverse film in the last five years (and the second in the last three weeks) I think I've reached the acceptance phase of letting go. Letting go not necessarily because I want to, but because it has become more and more apparent that it is time. While it would feel easy to be angry, depressed, or even regretful about the direction of the genre and what super hero films have collectively become over the past few years it would seem simpler (and easier) to just accept that The Flash is a prime example of why these types of films have begun to feel like they're eating themselves and thus, as much as I hate to say it, why it's time to take a break. 

Letting go, not just of the possibilities that have both been fulfilled and lost, but of the individuals who pioneered these characters as flesh and blood. Listen, I get it, letting go is hard because it means freeing one's self from aspects of their past, things that have become such a big part of a person's life they may even define part of their personality and it's understandable why, rather than moving forward, one might want to remain in this state of familiarity - there's a comfortability in it - but director Andy Muschietti's The Flash is a watershed moment in the super hero genre not because it breaks new ground or re-energizes the kind of escapism these movies can provide, but because it brought upon the realization there is a difference in being comfortable and being resistant and that one can only resist change for so long before what was once a source of comfort becomes discomfort as the seeds of doubt and truth that what once was no longer is begin to grow and further, that a person can only tolerate discomfort for so long before admitting that change is necessary.