Early on in DC’s latest cinematic effort The Flash, the titular hero (a manically charming Ezra Miller) averts a literal “baby shower” (i.e. babies and a cute rescue dog falling from the sky) when a Gotham City maternity ward starts crumbling after some criminal attack. (Honestly, I’m not sure what caused the near catastrophe … the opening sequence which also features Ben Affleck’s pitch perfect Batman is that chaotic, though nonetheless entertaining.)

After said rescue (yes, all CGI babies and pup end up … unscathed?), The Flash AKA Barry Allen tells an (also rescued) nurse, “You should seek the help of a mental health professional. The Justice League isn’t very good on that part yet. Trust me.” Honestly, it’s a line that is a bit unnerving given Miller’s real-life troubles. (Google him.) Yet also forms a kind of meta thesis for the whole enterprise, an epic existential meditation on regret and healing, wrapped in the wobbly cinematic logic of time travel and parallel universes. Everything Everywhere All at Once. In Spandex.

You see, Barry’s father (shaggy Ron Livingston … at his shaggiest) has been imprisoned (wrongfully Barry believes) for the murder of Barry’s mother. Barry realizes his ability to travel at light speed (he’s the fastest man alive, you might recall) and beyond light speed will allow him to step back in time and avert this family tragedy from ever befalling. And a carefully placed can of crushed tomatoes is the key. (You’ll have to watch the movie to understand.)

Even though Bruce Wayne (Affleck) cautions Barry not to go back in time because of some space/time continuum risk mumbo jumbo (not dissimilar to Willy Wonka intoning exhaustedly “no, don’t do that” to any number of the ill-fated Chocolate Factory brats), Barry does it anyway. And mumbo jumbo ensues.

It all works better than it should but is probably more enjoyable to nerds like me who have subsisted on a steady diet of DC Comics and tv shows and movies since birth. Fan service at its self-indulgently finest. 

Michael Keaton returns to form as another Batman (that would be the mumbo jumbo), and is a welcome reminder to how a grounded yet winking performance sells these summer blockbuster shenanigans. Sasha Calle is a lovely, wounded Supergirl with not nearly enough to do amongst the overstuffed spectacle. Michael Shannon, always a presence, pops up again as General Zod, who seems as beleaguered by superhero cinema as the rest of us at this point.

Oh, and Ezra Miller does double (triple?) duty as another version of himself from earlier in the timeline. It’s a shame his offscreen antics have overshadowed his talent. He really does excellent, nuanced work differentiating the performances, effectively capturing the angst and poignancy of interacting with one’s younger, more impulsive, less world-weary self.

Director Andy Muschietti, working from a screenplay by Christina Hodson, strives overtime to offer haunting and witty character moments throughout. The film is most effective when it’s quiet. That’s not often. But the stellar cast gives it their all, as if they are performing a reflective tragicomic piece by Thornton Wilder or Arthur Miller … but with a lot more kabooms, capes, and poorly rendered CGI. (Truly, the time travel nexus or whatever it is which appears repeatedly is astoundingly bad. Like all the SFX crew had to work with was an old Sega game console.)

But here’s the thing. I actually liked the film. A lot. Maybe in spite of itself. As a musing on what any one of us might do to turn back the clock and prevent life-altering experiences that weigh on our hearts, it’s quite astounding. And refreshing. It may be the most human-centric superhero flight of fancy to ever grace the silver screen. And a timely one as so many of us read the daily headlines and wonder how our world has become so cruel and unkind and callous. 

Or maybe the world has always been that way. And no amount of running back through time could change where we are now. And that’s ok?

That’s the ultimate lesson of The Flash. And it’s a sobering one. No wonder it’s not making any money.