The Flash #10 Review, by Marc Alan Fishman – Snarky Synopses #5

April 19, 2011 Marc Fishman 4 Comments

The Flash #10
Written by Geoff Johns
Art by Francis Manupal

I wish there was a stronger phrase than “I apologize”. If there was, I’d use it. Because I’ve been gone from the MDW universe for far too long. But never again! Snarky Sysnopsis is back, and perhaps for the first time in a long time? It’s full of snark. Today I bring you a pile of trash, disguised as a comic book. Don’t be fooled, my friends. It looks like a comic. It has a cover, with a nice logo… 32 pages, of which 20 are of a singular story, and the rest are advertisements and/or sneak peaks at other comic books. There are super heros, word balloons, and big onomatopoeias in it, like BOOOM! POW! and THUKA-DOOM! It has all the trappings of a comic book, but I assure you, it is in fact a big steaming pile of garbage. It’s name? Flash #10. It’s the fastest book alive… racing headway into a brick wall of crap.

For those not reading the Flash currently (and God, aren’t you the lucky ones) we’re a few issues in to the prelude to the next big event for DC Comics. Essentially, there’s (another) crisis about to unravel the multiverse (again), and only the Flash (yup, the one who sacrificed himself 46 crises ago) can save reality. This time around, another Boring err–Barry Allen (from Earth 2,3, or who really cares at this point) who calls himself “Hot Pursuit” is attempting to win the day, and prevent “time anomalies” from running rampant. Hot Pursuit rides a cosmic motorcycle, and wields a speed-force stealing billy club. He also has blue and red mars lights for shoulder pads. I’d like to take this time to pause and remind everyone reading that it’s 2011. That’s at least, by my count, 157 years after this concept could even pass as remotely cool to anyone under the age of 94. Can you tell how palpable my hate is for this book yet? How about we pause this review so I can write a haiku about it.

New Flash, cosmic bike.
More boring then Barry, how?
Assume it’s Johns’ fault.

Welcome back. So, Hot Pursuit shows up, and zigs and zags through Central City. He gets our Flash’s attention amidst a murder mystery that brews under foot. After monologuing to Barry (and those fans who missed 52, Countdown, and Final Crisis) about what the Multiverse is… he steals some (all?) of Barry’s speed-force, and the issue ends. Confused? Don’t be! Back when Barry reformed his totally dead self from nothing in Flash: Rebirth, and it turns out he is the living embodiment of the speed force that allows Impulse, Jay Garrick, John Fox, Kid Flash, Wally Flash, Flash Thompson, and Adobe Flash to run so fast. Still confused? Thanks to Geoff Johns, and his unyielding love for resurrecting the silver age at the cost of burying any good concepts (that he once contributed too, cough cough) beneath his silver keyboard.

Barry Allen, like Hal Jordan, was the hero of an era. But like Hal, he’s an antiquated concept being repackaged to appear “hip and cool” to the new generation of fans. Sadly? No amount of polish, photoshop glow effects, or amazing art work can substitute for a compelling character. Barry Allen is cardboard in a costume. He’s a bow-tie waring nerd-lite, who happens to be a cracker-jack crime scene investigator, with an amazing set of super powers. But no powers, day job, or gallery of memorable rogues can make up for the fact that Barry just isn’t an interesting guy. Batman is an obsessed jerk. Superman is a lonely boy scout. Hal Jordan is a reckless nutcase. Even the Green Arrow is a pinko-commie womanizer. Barry? At his core Barry Allen is milquetoast. He’s level headed, has a steady gal, and I bet he showers every day too. Simply put? Putting the Flash in another crisis just gives the writers excuse to have more yelling, punching, and a handful of overly dramatic character moments no one will remember.

The Flash #10 is all exposition, and no action. The “mystery” Johns sets up is lackluster. “It Hot Pursuit a good guy or a bad guy?” is basically all we get to chew on after 20 pages of lifeless dialogue. The only moment worth it’s salt is Bart Allen (the current Kid Flash, great great great grandson of Barry, from the 31st century) confronting Barry on missing the Flash Family Picnic. Was it because Barry doesn’t (gasp!) love Bart? Was it because he was (gasp!!) too busy working? Don’t know. Don’t care. We get no inner thoughts to tell us otherwise in the thin script. Oh, and apparently Barry’s old criminology buddy comes back to Central City, and is perhaps helping solve the case of “who’s stealing time from people!?”. Are you riveted? Me neither. It’s either Hot Pursuit, or it’s no one we know. Big whoop.

The only saving grace to the book at all is Francis Manupal’s artwork. His gestural style, slick coloring, and cartoonish figures are well rendered. If the book was as sharp as his art, this would be an A-level book. But ever since his rebirth, this book has stumbled, tripped, and fallen over itself in a pathetic attempt to be something it’s not. What kills me is Geoff John’s previous Flash run was one of the greatest I’d ever read. His Wally West was a driven blue-collar everyman that readers could latch on to, for high adventures, and some truly memorable arcs. Barry Allen is a relic who’s showing his age terribly, and issue #10 only proves my point even further. If this is to be “the road to Flashpoint”… I’d rather get off the ride before it even starts.

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Marc Alan Fishman is a digital artist, writer, and co-founder of Unshaven Comics. When Marc isn’t knee-deep in graphic design, he’s also a frequent contributor to ComicMix.com, an occasional stand-up comedian, as well as freelancer extraordinaire.