The Endless Parade of Cameos in ‘The Flash’ Doesn’t Save the Movie

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There are roughly 47,000—oh, wait, a new Netflix Original just dropped; make that 47,001—TV shows and movies coming out each week. At Obsessed, we consider it our social duty to help you see the best and skip the rest.

We’ve already got a variety of in-depth, exclusive coverage on all of your streaming favorites and new releases, but sometimes what you’re looking for is a simple Do or Don’t. That’s why we created See/Skip, to tell you exactly what our writers think you should See and what you can Skip from the past week’s crowded entertainment landscape.

Skip: The Flash

The Flash spends most of its bloated runtime relying on cameos from DC Cinematic Universe past, hoping that fan service will obscure Ezra Miller’s alleged transgressions. How unfortunate, since Miller is actually the best part of this flailing schlock.

Here’s Allegra Frank’s take:

“Early into The Flash, Barry Allen (Ezra Miller)—a.k.a. The Flash himself—is in Gotham City, saving average citizens from falling buildings and sinkholes, as is a superhero’s obligation. He’s got Alfred (Jeremy Irons) on the phone, giving him updates on when Barry could expect Gotham’s actual savior to arrive.

​​‘I am essentially the janitor of the Justice League,’ Barry tells Alfred, who’s well aware; it’s the Batman’s messes that the Flash is usually called in to clean up. A superhero fan who’s been waiting for Barry Allen’s return since he last appeared in 2017’s Justice League might find this line a snarky, earned dig at the DC Cinematic Universe’s set of super-powered fuck-ups. But to the rest of us, it’s deeply ironic: The Flash (out June 16) has become the Justice League franchise’s mess to mop up, a giant hole in the wall that DC Studios has been trying to hide with a painting.”

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See: Based on a True Story

Based on a True Story is a witty, ultra binge-able sendup of America’s obsession with true crime, led by the wildly charismatic pairing of Kaley Cuoco and Chris Messina. You need their magnetism to forget about all those plot holes.

Here’s Coleman Spilde’s take:

“Society’s fascination with true crime is not exactly covert. What was once relegated to a subset of people watching Dateline a little too eagerly has transformed into a massive, multimillion-dollar industry, spanning podcasts, docuseries, books, and some of the wildest Reddit threads you’ll ever fall into on a dark and stormy night.

Almost as ubiquitous as true crime-obsessed media is the entertainment that skewers it. The genre has been parodied in shows like American Vandal and Only Murders in the Building, as well as spoofed in a Portlandia sketch and a Swarm side-story. There’s even a new documentary that explores the real-life dangers of becoming desensitized to violent crime. Now, all of those cautionary tales and hysterical sendups have been rolled together in Based on a True Story, which is now streaming on Peacock.”

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Skip: Transformers: Rise of the Beasts

Transformers: Rise of the Beasts is a massive slog of machinery mayhem that will make you beg for Michael Bay’s return. Six films of pure, robotic maximalism have petered out to an installment entirely dependent on nostalgia, right down to the twist ending.

Here’s Nick Schager’s take:

“It speaks volumes about our current creatively barren blockbuster landscape that Michael Bay, once the paragon of ugly, unbridled excess, now stands as a last bastion of auteurist style and invention. Whither the director’s wanton flash, sizzle, stereotypes, and jingoism, which seared the eyes, offended the ears, and pummeled the spirit into weary submission? In the face of today’s Marvel-grade assembly line tentpoles, Bay’s egomaniacal odes to enormity resemble not only quaint relics of a bygone age (which, at the time, many were eager to see conclude), but exemplars of extravagant vision and skill, made by an artist whose gung-ho personality infused every frame of his juvenile, militaristic, sexualized spectaculars.

Confronted by the ludicrous prodigality of 2017’s Transformers: The Last Knight (which remains, to date, the director’s fifth and final franchise entry), I wrote, ‘That Bay is capable of staging computerized pandemonium with this much rapid-fire scale, sound, and car-commercial sleekness is no small feat; good luck finding someone else who can take the reins of this Hasbro-based franchise.’ Travis Knight’s 2018 Bumblebee spin-off proved that point to a tee, opting for a more heartfelt and muted approach that drained the action of its crazed lifeblood, and it’s doubly confirmed by Transformers: Rise of the Beasts.”

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See: Never Have I Ever, Season 4

Never Have I Ever’s final season brings Netflix’s sweet coming-of-age story to a near-perfect close, bursting with bright colors and tender heart. High school graduations, virginity, and self-acceptance are all part of the series’ last hurrah.

Here’s Laura Bradley’s take:

“As a millennial who grew up on soapy dramas like The OC, Gossip Girl, I could tell from the beginning that Netflix’s Never Have I Ever would be a different beast. But it’s not just the show’s stereotype-busting South Asian representation, or the fact that it centers around the nerds à la Freaks and Geeks without making them out to be losers that has made this series stand so far apart. It's also not only because of the immaculate wardrobes, which color the show’s world with imagination and boldness worthy of adolescence.

Instead, as Mindy Kaling and Lang Fisher’s brilliant comedy comes to a close Thursday, it’s the thoughtful heart at its center that has made it so consistently joyful to watch.”

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