The superhero genre is currently hanging on for dear life. Hollywood has burned the Joker to the ground, DC is in shambles and betting it all on Superman (again) next year, and Marvel is delivering as many hits as it does misses. However, a decade ago, superheroes were on top of the world, delivering hit after hit on both the big and small screens. It was in this plentiful and promising landscape that The CW’s The Flash premiered on October 7, 2014, and instantly became the apex of the superhero genre and the best small-screen DC project since Batman Beyond.
For about four years, The Flash was the undeniable king of heroes on television, delivering fan-favorite seasons that were critically acclaimed and produced solid ratings — for The CW, anyway. Yet, as it happens to so many others, it soon lost its way and descended into parody and outright ridicule, limping toward the finish line when it should’ve sprinted. Now, on its 10th anniversary, it’s time to revisit The Flash, a once seminal show on television that ended as a mere shadow of its former self. And while it wasn’t all good by the end, The Flash still did much for the superhero genre on the small screen and deserves our appreciation — if not necessarily our respect.
A spectacular beginning
“My name is Barry Allen, and I’m the fastest man alive.” Those were the opening words of every episode of The Flash, which perfectly capture the hyper-enthusiastic, matter-of-fact, in-your-face approach the show always took. After all, “subtlety” is not a word one would ever use to describe Barry Allen, so why should his show be any different? After making his debut during a two-episode stint on season 2 of Arrow, Grant Gustin began his nine-year tenure as the Scarlet Speedster on October 4, 2014. Season 1 of The Flash focused on a time travel mystery of sorts, framing the season with the reveal that the titular hero “vanishes in crisis” in April 2024. From there, the series followed a classic procedural formula, with each episode focusing on a new metahuman enemy that Barry and his team at STAR labs had to deal with.
Seasons 1 through 3 were the golden age of The Flash. The show’s success rested on three key factors, one of which was Gustin. From his winning smile to his youthful, boyish charm to his contagious enthusiasm that made him seem more like a fanboy than a hero, Gustin was an inspired and incredibly compelling take on Barry Allen. Gustin’s love for the role practically leapt out of the screen, and his commitment to the show elevated every scene. Every action sequence, no matter how dodgy it looked, became a thrilling event, and his chemistry with the supporting cast was natural and heartwarming, which takes us to point number two: the cast.
A great cast
The Flash was blessed with one of the best ensemble casts in the superhero genre. Everyone played a key role in the story, from Danielle Panabaker’s cold, but well-meaning Caitlin Snow to Carlos Valdes’ scene-stealing and hyperactive Francisco “Cisco” Ramon. Particularly noteworthy, however, were Jesse L. Martin and Tom Cavanagh. A Broadway veteran, Martin was the embodiment of paternal love as Barry’s adoptive father, Joe West. For his part, Cavanagh was spectacular as the cunning Harrison Wells, later revealed to be Barry’s archenemy Eobard Thawne, aka The Reverse Flash.
Gustin’s scenes with Martin and Cavanagh are perfect summarizations of everything The Flash did well during its early years. There’s genuine gravitas there, an emotional bond that keeps the show grounded on something relatable and universal. For all the wacky antics and metahuman freaks, The Flash was a tale of emotional bonds forged during a person’s most traumatic times and how these ties have the power to shape futures.
Speaking of Cavanagh, let’s talk about the third reason behind The Flash‘s success: the villains. Season 1 set the bar incredibly high with Cavanagh’s Reverse Flash, an antagonist so great that pretty much every future enemy of the Scarlet Speedster lived under his shadow. Cavanagh was devastatingly alluring, yet fearsome as Thawne, creating what is arguably the best live-action DC villain on the small screen — sorry, Michael Rosenbaum. Seasons 2 and 3 had deserving villains of their own. The show’s sophomore effort benefitted from Hunter Solomon, aka Zoom, ultimately revealing him as the man team Flash had thought to be Jay Garrick. Season 3 then had Savitar, a speedster later revealed as an alternate version of Barry, as the Big Bad.
You may have noticed a recurring theme here: all three villains are speedsters, which might make sense for The Flash, but could also get old rather quickly. Well, the show thought so, too, and made some changes for season 4 that had mixed results.
A puzzling middle
In hindsight, season 4 was the great shift for The Flash. It was the first season not to feature a speedster as the villain, a change applauded at the time, but which makes little sense in hindsight. Uneven new additions to the cast, a needlessly convoluted story, and a weak villain further muddled the whole affair. Still, for the most part, season 4 was good, keeping the show’s quality and two of the three key elements. Season 5 followed suit, focusing on the Flash’s extended family and featuring more than enough heart to make up for another flawed narrative and an even more disappointing villain.
Still, the cracks in the formula were noticeable by this point, especially as the show became more at home with its quirks and ticks. See, the issue many shows run into, especially long-running ones, is that they become too comfortable in their safe zone, leading to tunnel vision that boxes them in as one thing. This approach usually leads to an increase in everything that works, which can slowly degenerate into parody. Think of how Ross became increasingly unlikable on Friends or how Sheldon became even more annoying on The Big Bang Theory.
Even shows that remain somewhat consistent throughout their runs, like Modern Family, are guilty of this: think of how the jokes around Gloria’s broken English or Cam’s over-the-topness became more shameless and, on occasion, mean-spirited in later seasons. It’s an urge that’s very difficult to resist — to take something that works and repeat it. However, a joke is only so funny, even when told in different ways; sometimes, you’re just laughing out of familiarity, even if you don’t necessarily find it humorous anymore.
That’s basically what happened to The Flash. Unlikely many other shows, which are guilty of getting bigger and louder, The Flash opted for familiarity. It became repetitive to the point of redundancy. Seasons 6 and 7 sort of blend together, with plots that are neither particularly memorable, nor distinctive. Even the villains are similar; when they had the potential to be great — looking at you, Godspeed — they lacked the spark that made Thawne so distinctive. They even looked the same, featuring similar outfits in different colors. Yes, Bloodwork was a nice bit of grotesque Resident Evil inspiration, but Cicada looked like a run-of-the-mill Arrow villain, and Godspeed was basically Zoom in white. Whenever it did try something new, it came across as poorly done, and the poor CGI made it look cheap and, thus, unintentionally ridiculous.
Still, it would be too harsh and arguably incorrect to say The Flash stopped trying; however, it would be accurate to say it tried all the wrong things. From season 6 onward, it was as if something was limiting the show. Budget? Perhaps, but considering how much it achieved with what I can only assume was a couple of dollars and a dream during seasons 1 and 2, I’d find that surprising.
I think The Flash had an identity crisis between seasons 5 and 6. At some point, the weight of trying to be too many things at once — a police procedural AND a superhero show AND a family drama AND a larger block in the ever-increasing Arrowverse — caught up with it, and everything came crumbling down.
A baffling end
By the time season 8 came around, The Flash had very much overextended its welcome. Gustin was still the pillar upon which the whole thing rose, but his supporting cast was slowly jumping ship. Cavanagh stepped down as a series regular in season 6, and Valdes left the show in season 7. From then on, it was just blow after blow for this once proud representative of DC Comics. The last two seasons are very much a blur, featuring an anything goes approach, as if the writers were throwing everything at the wall and seeing what stuck, which made sense considering hardly anyone was watching.
Still, one has to applaud The Flash for staying afloat as long as it did. Indeed, by the end, it had been there and back again, running so many laps around the same field that even the audience was out of breath. But there’s also something admirable about the show’s willingness to be a full-on comic book properly. When you look at its sister show, Arrow, an adaptation that couldn’t have been more embarrassed at being based on a comic book, you can appreciate just how much The Flash did right. Yes, it descended into parody by the end, and its death was far more prolonged and painful than it should’ve been. Indeed, this show should’ve ended in season 5 — and if it had, the conversation surrounding it would be vastly different.
Alas, it kept going, eventually becoming an internet meme, a puzzling effort many looked at with tilted heads and squinted eyes as if to say, “Remember how good that show was once?” It’s not all so bad, though. Those who stuck with the show until its end in 2023, all five of them, can probably attest to its place as something of a comfort show, the last remnant of a decade where superheroes ruled the business and everything seemed possible. It’s unlikely we’ll ever see something like The Flash again, a sign of the changing times and a bittersweet reminder of how cool things were throughout the 2010s. As for its legacy? Well, it can be summarized by that infamous lightsaber fight from season 7: it’s loud and stupid and ridiculous, but boy, does it entertain.
The Flash is available to stream on Netflix.
