At and/or around the time that Warner Bros. was heavily invested in finally delivering Batman (1989) to the silver screen, Warner Bros. Television – along with their partners at DC Comics – began exploring the prospect of bringing a measure of superheroes to the small screen.
Now, there has been a great deal of conjecture about how closely TV’s The Flash looks and feels to the cinematic universe created by director Tim Burton for the Caped Crusader’s debut in theaters; and there’s no denying that association. The fact that – to some degree – these separate properties were in production in the same era underscores that, thematically, one quite probably wouldn’t exist without the other even though it goes without saying that The Flash winds up still being somewhat forgettable on the cosmic scale of superhero dramas. But the insistence that one caused the other – meaning Batman’s success required some kind of televised offshoot – isn’t likely something anyone should consider set in stone. I’ve read specifically on Wikipedia.org that DC and Warner were already considering cracking television once again, so the evolution from script to screen was probably moved along nicely with the Dark Knight’s silver screen success.
In any event, I was there in the home audience when The Flash’s pilot episode first aired on CBS on September 20, 1990; and I distinctly remember being a bit underwhelmed.
It isn’t as if the founding telefilm was inadequate because the 90-minute installment is an affable piece of simple entertainment. Yes, it arguably borrows the aesthetic of the Batman film but rather obviously does so on a vastly slimmer budget. The script from Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo efficiently squeezes in enough substance between its small(ish) character moments and the attempt to deliver something bigger-than-life to make it all go down easy; and, yet, the truth is the show wouldn’t last longer than a single season on the Boob Tube. Though the reasons why might vary, I think it’s honestly safe to suggest that no one wanted that grim and dark experience in a weekly dosage; and the crop of writers – while talented – weren’t able to muster enough super-stuffing to glue audiences to their seats for all that long. It bowed out before many even knew it existed, and that’s sometimes the nature of things.
But to celebrate the show’s new release on Blu-ray compliments of the Warner Archive, I’ll be taking a look back at several episodes over the next few weeks. What better way to give it all a new spin than to take a look back at the pilot adventure …
Now, there has been a great deal of conjecture about how closely TV’s The Flash looks and feels to the cinematic universe created by director Tim Burton for the Caped Crusader’s debut in theaters; and there’s no denying that association. The fact that – to some degree – these separate properties were in production in the same era underscores that, thematically, one quite probably wouldn’t exist without the other even though it goes without saying that The Flash winds up still being somewhat forgettable on the cosmic scale of superhero dramas. But the insistence that one caused the other – meaning Batman’s success required some kind of televised offshoot – isn’t likely something anyone should consider set in stone. I’ve read specifically on Wikipedia.org that DC and Warner were already considering cracking television once again, so the evolution from script to screen was probably moved along nicely with the Dark Knight’s silver screen success.
In any event, I was there in the home audience when The Flash’s pilot episode first aired on CBS on September 20, 1990; and I distinctly remember being a bit underwhelmed.
It isn’t as if the founding telefilm was inadequate because the 90-minute installment is an affable piece of simple entertainment. Yes, it arguably borrows the aesthetic of the Batman film but rather obviously does so on a vastly slimmer budget. The script from Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo efficiently squeezes in enough substance between its small(ish) character moments and the attempt to deliver something bigger-than-life to make it all go down easy; and, yet, the truth is the show wouldn’t last longer than a single season on the Boob Tube. Though the reasons why might vary, I think it’s honestly safe to suggest that no one wanted that grim and dark experience in a weekly dosage; and the crop of writers – while talented – weren’t able to muster enough super-stuffing to glue audiences to their seats for all that long. It bowed out before many even knew it existed, and that’s sometimes the nature of things.
But to celebrate the show’s new release on Blu-ray compliments of the Warner Archive, I’ll be taking a look back at several episodes over the next few weeks. What better way to give it all a new spin than to take a look back at the pilot adventure …
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the episode’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A laboratory accident endows a police scientist with the ability to move at superhuman speed which he uses to battle a menacing gang as a superhero.”
I’ve mentioned plenty of times in this space that – in my youth – I grew up reading comic books. While The Flash title was never one of my personal favorites, I can say that I scanned several issues in the early 1970’s, and I experienced a modicum of joy exploring the antics of the fastest man alive. (I preferred DC Comics over Marvel books.) They were solid reads, often a bit comical in nature, but like so many I found greater affinity with the characters of Batman and Superman. What can I say? I know what I like.
Being one who’s known for watching damn near any superhero saga on television, I went into 1990’s version of The Flash with a touch more knowledge than the typical viewer. In all honesty, I think the series’ pilot was accommodating enough to bring in anyone: it really presented everything an audience needed to know about Barry Allen (played rather stoically by John Wesley Shipp) – without cracking the hero’s history to any great degree – in his particular time and particular place. Basically, Allen was ‘CSI’ before that TV franchise made ‘CSI’ famous; and Allen would juggle his commitments between serving the citizens of Central City from both behind a badge to completely without one in light vigilante style. After all, The Flash was never The Batman by any estimation; and, thankfully, the CBS serial largely avoided anything other than cursory comparisons.
What the show didn’t quite get right – so far as I care – was the books that I recall had a more light-hearted tone. Barry wasn’t always all serious, but Shipp – especially in the telefilm – really lacks a measure of personality much less a hint of human charm. Some of his small screen earnestness might have been owed more to the success of 1989’s Batman where Michael Keaton played a rather dour force for justice uniquely committed to ridding Gotham City of any agents of doom; and perhaps this is what Bilson and De Meo thought the network wished to see recreated for television. While the series did lighten up a bit here and there as it wore on, the telefilm mostly aligns much more with that feature film; and humor rears it head rather sparingly in the run-time.
Furthermore, Bilson and De Meo also paralleled the family dynamic of the Caped Crusader: whereas the death of his parents ultimately served as the catalyst to put Bruce Wayne on his personal crusade, Barry Allen initially follows suite when his much-revered cop/brother Jay Allen (Tim Thomerson) gets shot down in the line of duty. (Yes, there’s a bit more, but you catch my drift.) It doesn’t take the younger brother long to put the pieces together – namely that a disgraced former cop who literally wrote the book on motorcycle policing has an axe to grind with Central City – and we’re off to the revenge … erm … races.
From the episode’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A laboratory accident endows a police scientist with the ability to move at superhuman speed which he uses to battle a menacing gang as a superhero.”
I’ve mentioned plenty of times in this space that – in my youth – I grew up reading comic books. While The Flash title was never one of my personal favorites, I can say that I scanned several issues in the early 1970’s, and I experienced a modicum of joy exploring the antics of the fastest man alive. (I preferred DC Comics over Marvel books.) They were solid reads, often a bit comical in nature, but like so many I found greater affinity with the characters of Batman and Superman. What can I say? I know what I like.
Being one who’s known for watching damn near any superhero saga on television, I went into 1990’s version of The Flash with a touch more knowledge than the typical viewer. In all honesty, I think the series’ pilot was accommodating enough to bring in anyone: it really presented everything an audience needed to know about Barry Allen (played rather stoically by John Wesley Shipp) – without cracking the hero’s history to any great degree – in his particular time and particular place. Basically, Allen was ‘CSI’ before that TV franchise made ‘CSI’ famous; and Allen would juggle his commitments between serving the citizens of Central City from both behind a badge to completely without one in light vigilante style. After all, The Flash was never The Batman by any estimation; and, thankfully, the CBS serial largely avoided anything other than cursory comparisons.
What the show didn’t quite get right – so far as I care – was the books that I recall had a more light-hearted tone. Barry wasn’t always all serious, but Shipp – especially in the telefilm – really lacks a measure of personality much less a hint of human charm. Some of his small screen earnestness might have been owed more to the success of 1989’s Batman where Michael Keaton played a rather dour force for justice uniquely committed to ridding Gotham City of any agents of doom; and perhaps this is what Bilson and De Meo thought the network wished to see recreated for television. While the series did lighten up a bit here and there as it wore on, the telefilm mostly aligns much more with that feature film; and humor rears it head rather sparingly in the run-time.
Furthermore, Bilson and De Meo also paralleled the family dynamic of the Caped Crusader: whereas the death of his parents ultimately served as the catalyst to put Bruce Wayne on his personal crusade, Barry Allen initially follows suite when his much-revered cop/brother Jay Allen (Tim Thomerson) gets shot down in the line of duty. (Yes, there’s a bit more, but you catch my drift.) It doesn’t take the younger brother long to put the pieces together – namely that a disgraced former cop who literally wrote the book on motorcycle policing has an axe to grind with Central City – and we’re off to the revenge … erm … races.
Joining Shipp in this inaugural edition of lawfulness were a plethora of faces familiar with television of the day. M. Emmet Walsh served as the grizzled old patriarch of the Allen family; his greater affection for Jay imbues Barry with the ever-present desire to make his daddy proud, even against whatever odds lay ahead. The effervescent Paula Marshall was cast to bring Iris West to life; but – as a love interest – she was curiously absent from the rest of the series. (I’ve no idea why she didn’t return to the role, and I think that was arguably one of the program’s greatest losses.) The plucky Amanda Pays takes charge in the guise of scientist Christine McGee, Barry’s Star Labs’ counterpart who works alongside the superhero in an attempt to make sense out of the changes to his body. The late Richard Belzer shows up as TV pundit Joe Kline, a reporter whose sensibilities lean a bit more toward the salacious than they do the sagacious.
Sadly, the telefilm suffers from a solid handful of missteps, the most grievous of which I’d say rests entirely on Shipp’s inability to convey any true emotion in too many spots. His performance is bland all too often, and the script never quite gives him all that much to work with. Basically, he’s a lab rat who curiously doesn’t know what ginseng is (it’ll make sense when you see it) who thinks giving his older brother something he secretly robbed from him twenty-five years ago as a birthday present makes for a suitable gift; and – ahem – that’s about all. Well, that and the fact that he comically outruns his own dog on a superpowered sprint through the park, a comic beat that makes no sense given the fact that – at his advanced superspeed – he likely would’ve dragged the dog to its death. It’s these kiddie comic book sensibilities that never get reconciled with the otherwise obvious darkness that makes for a decidedly uneven experience.
Even a bit tonally worse is the telefilm’s villain: disgraced Central City police officer Nicholas Pike (Michael Nader) seems to have no real endgame in mind for his motorcycle gang called ubiquitously ‘The Riders.’ (???) Sure, they’re smitten with terrorizing the general populace and making the cops look like a bunch of lame brains – which a few of them are all by their lonesome – but Pike’s big selling point seems to be that he’s in charge of the only biker club in town that maintains their own salad bar. That recruiting tool might work for some, but I must’ve missed it aboard Fox TV’s Sons Of Anarchy. But if you introduce a superhero and fail to give him some impressive force of evil to stand up against, then what’s all the fuss about?
And about that superhero?
I hate nitpicking – which is why I’m not going to pen a treatise on the rather obvious TV-grade special effects – but The Flash suit winds up looking a bit too comical in the occasional scene. Clearly, there’s some ample padding incorporated into the chest, and – from an angle or two – it’s just too much. The rush to bulk up Shipp into twice the size he logically was might produce a chuckle here or there, or perhaps they should’ve cast someone a bit beefier. It occasionally looks more 1990’s Power Rangers than it does authentic TV super soldier, but – as I said – a good show is far more about what the suit stands for than how it fits. In that respect, producers played a bit fast and loose; and I can only hope for improvement as the series charts its own course over the remaining twenty-plus episodes.
Sadly, the telefilm suffers from a solid handful of missteps, the most grievous of which I’d say rests entirely on Shipp’s inability to convey any true emotion in too many spots. His performance is bland all too often, and the script never quite gives him all that much to work with. Basically, he’s a lab rat who curiously doesn’t know what ginseng is (it’ll make sense when you see it) who thinks giving his older brother something he secretly robbed from him twenty-five years ago as a birthday present makes for a suitable gift; and – ahem – that’s about all. Well, that and the fact that he comically outruns his own dog on a superpowered sprint through the park, a comic beat that makes no sense given the fact that – at his advanced superspeed – he likely would’ve dragged the dog to its death. It’s these kiddie comic book sensibilities that never get reconciled with the otherwise obvious darkness that makes for a decidedly uneven experience.
Even a bit tonally worse is the telefilm’s villain: disgraced Central City police officer Nicholas Pike (Michael Nader) seems to have no real endgame in mind for his motorcycle gang called ubiquitously ‘The Riders.’ (???) Sure, they’re smitten with terrorizing the general populace and making the cops look like a bunch of lame brains – which a few of them are all by their lonesome – but Pike’s big selling point seems to be that he’s in charge of the only biker club in town that maintains their own salad bar. That recruiting tool might work for some, but I must’ve missed it aboard Fox TV’s Sons Of Anarchy. But if you introduce a superhero and fail to give him some impressive force of evil to stand up against, then what’s all the fuss about?
And about that superhero?
I hate nitpicking – which is why I’m not going to pen a treatise on the rather obvious TV-grade special effects – but The Flash suit winds up looking a bit too comical in the occasional scene. Clearly, there’s some ample padding incorporated into the chest, and – from an angle or two – it’s just too much. The rush to bulk up Shipp into twice the size he logically was might produce a chuckle here or there, or perhaps they should’ve cast someone a bit beefier. It occasionally looks more 1990’s Power Rangers than it does authentic TV super soldier, but – as I said – a good show is far more about what the suit stands for than how it fits. In that respect, producers played a bit fast and loose; and I can only hope for improvement as the series charts its own course over the remaining twenty-plus episodes.
The Flash (1990-1991) was produced by Pet Fly Productions and Warner Bros. Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … wowza! The telefilm both looks and sounds fabulous consistently throughout, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the show look so good. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, the set comes without a single one … a miss, if you ask me.
Recommended.
Yes, this was the early 1990’s; and TV effects being what they were The Flash’s pilot episode is only marginally better than what CBS had accomplished more than a decade before with programs like Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, and The Incredible Hulk. While it’s a respectable introduction to this particular corner of the DC Universe, I just didn’t find it all that interesting or memorable. A lackluster villain and an all-too-similar aesthetic to what Warner Bros. had done with 1989’s Batman, I expected something a bit different. Instead, I got some of the same mixed heartily with the usual TV ingredients.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Flash: The Original Series by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Recommended.
Yes, this was the early 1990’s; and TV effects being what they were The Flash’s pilot episode is only marginally better than what CBS had accomplished more than a decade before with programs like Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, and The Incredible Hulk. While it’s a respectable introduction to this particular corner of the DC Universe, I just didn’t find it all that interesting or memorable. A lackluster villain and an all-too-similar aesthetic to what Warner Bros. had done with 1989’s Batman, I expected something a bit different. Instead, I got some of the same mixed heartily with the usual TV ingredients.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Flash: The Original Series by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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