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movie review: The Flash

Emily and I decided to get The Flash on demand--which cost less than going to the theater, although I do love action movies on the big screen. As it turns out, maybe that was for the best.

One of the complaints I've heard about The Flash was that the CGI quality was bad. I did notice it a few times, but overall it didn't take me out of the story at all. Maybe that was seeing it on the small screen, or maybe it was because I grew up at a time when special effects were limited to miniature models and animation.

The other complaint is that the star, Ezra Miller, is a violent felon. That's kind of a big deal, and if it's true they should be in prison, or possible a secure mental institution, if those exist any more. I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for that kind of person.

But from a standpoint of the movie, I don't care.

Hollywood is full of terrible people. I'll bet most entertainment projects have at least one person who others should be protected from. I'm surprised when a celebrity turns out not to have skeletons in their proverbial closet. This is becoming more obvious with each passing year.

But I like a movie or I don't, and I loved The Flash. Not only that, but Miller did a great acting job, something I didn't expect in a superhero flick. The entire plot is driven by one tragedy in Barry Allen's past, and Miller gives a performance that could bring a tear to your eye.

 Which just goes to show, having talent is only part of what a person is.

I like strong characters, great dialogue, and a nice dose of humor. The Flash also hit on something more specific: I love time travel stories, crossovers, and tales involving a multiverse, the latter being why the Oscars and I finally agreed last year.

The movie starts when Barry Allen/Flash accidentally discovers he can time travel. Despite a warning about the dangers--from Batman, no less, who explains their losses are part of who they are--Barry latches onto the idea that he can save his mother, who died when he was a kid.

He plans his actions carefully, to make the least impact on the timeline and, of course, everything goes horribly wrong. A Big Bad from a previous DC movie shows up, but Superman doesn't exist to defeat him, this time; there don't seem to be any superheroes on this Earth. Barry finds himself trying to save a world that isn't his, anymore.

Other heroes eventually emerge, of course, and one of the joys of The Flash is seeing him and his new allies interacting. (If you've watched the previews, you know who they are.) There are also numerous cameos by other heroes, something I'm sure many people hated that gave me great joy. In the context of the story it makes sense, or at least as much sense movies about costumed meta-humans ever do.

There's also an after-credits scene that throws Barry's normal world on its side, and would beg explanation--if there was to be a sequel. I think it's safe to assume the next Flash will be a different actor in a rebooted universe, so there's no use pondering that.

So yes, we loved The Flash. I think most people, if they can see around the behind-the-scenes trouble, would too. Then again, some people hate superhero movies no matter how good they are, and if any of those people have read this far, I can only ask: why?


Remember: If you don't like movies, there are always--books.


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It's So Hot People Stopped Telling So Hot Jokes

 I'm reposting this blog from last summer because, let's face it, you could post something about heat waves every summer. Okay, I'm actually doing it because I was busy working on the Haunted Noble County project and ran out of time. But they're talking about a 100 degree heat index tomorrow--something other parts of the country have been seeing all summer--so it still fits.

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This week has been so hot, "so hot" jokes have been trending.

There's only so much you can do with them, of course--they've been around a long time. One of the original European settlers, in the Roanoke Colony of Virginia, left a note that said "it's so hot we're moving to Plymouth". The settlers were never heard from again, after apparently getting lost on the Washington, D.C. beltway.

Just the same, it's been so hot even I've been uncomfortable, not that I'd admit it. I'd still take a heat wave over a cold snap, but that doesn't mean I like either one. I went out to mow the lawn at 9 a.m. the other day, and ended up going through five water bottles: Three in me and two over me. It was so hot the lawn mower started flashing an error light that said "water me".

"You think I'm leaving the shade without a drink, first? You just filled me with gasoline!"

 

I didn't know it even had error lights.

Fun fact: In order to clean my mower you have to connect a garden hose, which sprays water all over the inside of the mower deck while it runs, to clean the grass off. So, you DO have to water it.

Naturally, it's not just the heat up here. Last week was so humid that, after I mowed, I had to step into the shower to dry off. Relax, I'm not posting any photos of that.

Anything that was in full sunlight started to glow red, unless it was already red, in which case it started to glow orange. The fire hydrant down the street called me over and begged me to let my dog pee on it. I refused, being worried about steam burns.


"Don't worry about me peeing back at you, I can hold my water."

 

At one point the humidity level was 140%, which translated to a heat index of, and I quote, "broil". Jim Cantore came over from The Weather Channel to investigate how the humidity can actually be higher than 100%, and his cameraman drowned. Meanwhile, three people were blinded when the sun shone of Cantore's head. He was heard to say, "I'd rather have thundersnow". Speak for yourself, fella.

But I took advantage of it by letting the air conditioner drain its water into a bucket outside, then using the bucket to water my plants. By the way, if anyone needs any planters, I, uh, killed all my flowers with scalding water.

It's been especially rough for people who don't have air conditioners--or for people with no power at all, including the ones hit by the most recent thunderstorms and derechos. (It is too a real word--shut up, spell check.)

I tried to honor their crisis by going outside, at least long enough to mow the lawn. Their general response was that I was crazy, and could they stop by for several hours?

Anyway, eventually I had to go out again, to let the dog water that hydrant. The dog's response? "Um, no thanks ... I'll hold it."

"Nope. Uh-uh, not until the next cold snap hits in August."

 
 

 

 Remember, every time you forget to hydrate a writer passes out. They have enough problems.

 

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