Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Two

There is a specific, hollow sound to a franchise being folded up before its time. I felt it throughout the 94 minutes of Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Two, a film that essentially serves as the "moving day" for the DC Tomorrowverse. You know that feeling when you’re packing boxes and you realize you have to throw away some perfectly good stuff just because it won't fit in the new apartment? That’s this movie. It’s an animated epic caught in the crossfire of corporate restructuring, and while it tries to swing for the fences, it often feels like it's just trying to clear the floor before James Gunn’s new DCU moves in.

I watched this on my laptop while eating a bowl of cereal that had gone slightly soggy because I spent ten minutes trying to remember my digital locker password, and honestly, that slightly damp, "missed the window" vibe matched the film perfectly. It’s a sequel that is 60% lore-dump and 40% shadow-demon punching, existing in that strange modern vacuum where a film isn't a standalone story but a chapter in a streaming-era "content event."

The Aesthetics of the End Times

The Tomorrowverse has always had a polarizing look—those thick, bold outlines that feel like a middle ground between Archer and a classic 1950s comic book. In Part Two, director Jeff Wamester uses this style to lean into a somber, almost clinical atmosphere. While the original 1985 comic by Marv Wolfman and George Pérez was a riot of color and cosmic maximalism, this adaptation feels strangely quiet.

There's a sequence involving Jensen Ackles’ Batman and a group of "orphaned" Bat-family members that really struck me. Jensen Ackles (of Supernatural and The Boys fame) has grown into the cowl remarkably well, giving us a Bruce Wayne who sounds less like a gravel pit and more like a man who hasn't slept since 2011. The way the film frames his isolation against the backdrop of a literal vanishing reality is the highlight of the craft here. However, the action often falls into the trap of "Contemporary Animation Efficiency." We see endless waves of shadow demons—generic, black blobs that don't require much detailed choreography—which makes the stakes feel weirdly low despite the "death of everything" premise. It’s like watching a universe get deleted in real-time while a CEO holds the delete key.

The Middle-Chapter Struggle

If you’ve seen enough trilogies, you know the Second Act Slump. It’s where the "how" and "why" take over, and the "wow" gets sidelined. Screenwriter Jim Krieg (who also penned Batman: Gotham by Gaslight) has the unenviable task of explaining the Monitor’s backstory and Supergirl’s pivotal role while keeping the momentum from Part One. Meg Donnelly voices Supergirl/Harbinger with a sincere vulnerability that anchors the movie, especially when she’s paired with Jonathan Adams’ booming, detached Monitor.

The problem is that the film spends a lot of time in flashbacks. We get a long look at the Monitor’s origin, which, while interesting for lore-hounds, feels like a momentum killer when the literal end of the world is happening outside. I found myself checking the progress bar, not because I was bored, but because the pacing felt like a series of fits and starts. One minute we’re seeing Stana Katic's Wonder Woman lead a desperate charge, and the next we’re back in a quiet room discussing cosmic bureaucracy. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a high-speed chase that keeps hitting red lights.

The Vanishing Act of the Direct-to-Video Era

There was a time when these DC animated films felt like the vanguard of the genre. Before the MCU took over the world, movies like Justice League: Doom or Under the Red Hood were where the real "adult" superhero storytelling lived. Now, in 2024, Crisis Part Two feels a bit like a relic. It’s a high-quality production, sure, but it’s released into a market that is utterly exhausted by multiverses. Between Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse and the live-action The Flash (2023), the novelty of seeing Darren Criss’ Superman meet an alternate version of himself has worn thin.

What makes this specific film an "obscure" curiosity for future film historians is its context. It is the penultimate breath of a specific creative experiment that was cut short by the Warner Bros. Discovery merger. You can see the seams where the story was likely condensed. Yet, there’s a charm to its grimness. It doesn't have the "whedonesque" quips that defined the last decade of superhero cinema; it’s a tragedy, and it treats its characters with a level of respect that I appreciated. When Gideon Adlon’s Batgirl enters the fray, there’s no winking at the camera—just the desperate, frantic energy of a hero who knows she’s probably not going to make it to Part Three.

Ultimately, Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Two is for the fans who have already bought the ticket and are committed to the ride. It’s a bridge between a solid beginning and an uncertain end, hampered by the very "franchise fatigue" it’s trying to overcome. If you’re a completionist, the character beats for Batman and Supergirl are worth the price of admission. Just don’t expect a definitive conclusion—this is a movie that knows its primary job is to set the stage for one last goodbye.