Part the Twenty-Second: Watchmen OR Man, the Eighties Was BLEAK!
You can’t talk about Alan Moore without discussing what might be considered his magnum opus, the critically-acclaimed graphic novel Watchmen. Set in a version of the 1980s in which superheroes have had a major influence at key moments in history, Watchmen is perhaps the most thorough critique of superhero comics ever produced, featuring a deeply engrossing (and complex) plot, an understated (but nonetheless striking) art style, and rich layers of allusion that reward alert and attentive readers.
Watchmen’s narrative structure is non-linear and lacks a central point of view, constantly shifting from the major characters and moments in history as the plot advances. Many of the flashbacks provide a detailed look at the origins of the various superheroes (or “costumed adventurers” as the story calls them) as well as offering insight into their influence on American (and world) history. Such changes include an American victory in Vietnam and the continued presidency of Richard Nixon into the 1980s (the book subtly hints at Nixon’s involvement in JFK’s death).
Despite these startling changes, Watchmen’s world is still not particularly different from the real 1980s – the threat of nuclear war still looms, and crime and poverty continue to plague mankind. Indeed, in the absence of a clear “super villain,” the book suggests the impotence of hero figures to grapple with larger, societal ills; not even entire teams of costumed adventurers are able to affect lasting social change. On the other hand, the heroes often find themselves navigating some very morally questionable terrain, and more than a few of them are willing to employ brutal methods to accomplish their goals. The reader, much like the ordinary citizens of Watchmen’s world, might well ask, “Who watches the watchmen?”
Indeed, the work reflects deeply on the premise of a “hero,” and the dangers inherent in trusting individuals with so much trust and power. Very few of the main characters resist the temptation to abuse their authority (even when, after the passage of the fictional “Keene Act,” they no longer enjoy the sanction of the government) in order to achieve their desired aims. Even Dan Dreiberg, arguably the most healthy and “normal” heroes in the cast (despite his superhero-themed sexual hangups) crosses the line when he hears about the death of a beloved friend.
The heroes themselves are roughly divided into two groups, one representing the “first generation” of heroes who appeared in the 30s (mirroring the Golden Age of comic books) and their figurative (and in one case, literal) offspring, coming of age in the turbulent 60s and 70s. Though the first generation, largely represented by the clean-cut, all-American Hollis Mason (aka Nite Owl), seem at first glance to embody American optimism and purity, later developments in the story (and excerpts from Mason’s memoir, Behind the Mask) reveal a darker side, including an attempted rape of one hero by another.
Interestingly, only one hero actually has any “super powers” – the others are merely skilled hand-to-hand combatants, though some of them employ additional tools to assist them in their activities. The Comedian, for example, carries a considerable amount of military gear, including guns and knives, and Dan Dreiberg, the second Nite Owl, invents a wide variety of devices, including specialized temperature-resistant costumes and his own private air ship. Doctor Manhattan, the unfortunate victim of a nuclear experiment, develops god-like powers that enable him to teleport, duplicate himself, and re-arrange the atomic composition of anything he wishes, all at a mere thought. This kind of power leads to his gradual estrangement from humanity (represented visually by the shedding of conventional clothing) and a wish to leave Earth behind to explore the rest of the universe.
Perhaps the “breakout character” amongst the cast is Rorschach, the uncompromising (and brutal) vigilante whose philosophy and design are clearly inspired by Steve Ditko characters such as the Question. Rorschach seeks to impose order and meaning on a cruel world by any means necessary, and refuses to accept anything less than a clear assignation of guilt and punishment. Rorschach’s mask reflects his viewpoint: its special fabric contains shifting black blots against a white background – while the arrangement may change, the black never bleeds into the white, leaving no room for shades of gray.
Moore has since lamented that the story (and Rorschach in particular) has been taken as justification to produce “grim, gritty” comics and heroes for their own sake; Watchmen, like the Dark Knight returns, greatly influenced 90s “bad boy” heroes, and contributed to a generally darker take on comics in general (eventually necessitating the publication of Kingdom Come in 1996, largely meant as a repudiation of the dark, cynical trend in comics). In the wake of all of that, it’s easy to dismiss Watchmen at first glance as just another grim take on superheroes, especially if one isn’t aware that Watchmen helped kick off the trend, albeit unintentionally.
The recent film adaptation was passable… it captured the look, tone, and (most impressively) the labyrinthine plot about as well as any film adaptation could, which is no small feat. The problem, though, is that I don’t think the film added anything valuable to the story, and the necessary compression of plot and detail meant losing a lot of the richness and depth that made Watchmen so great in the first place. I’d further add that the Ozymandias’ character seemed mischaracterized in the film, though I’ll refrain from saying more for the sake of those who haven’t read the story yet.
One definite achievement of the film, however, is its opening credits sequence. The montage of scenes depicting the passage of time from the 30s to the 80s (all set to Bob Dylan’s “The Times, They Are A’Changin’”) was absolutely brilliant, and served to sum up the cultural shifts just as well as the graphic novel’s excerpts from Hollis Mason’s memoirs. Its clever updating of historical scenes to reflect the impact of superheroes is both entertaining and superbly expository – a real triumph in cinematic storytelling.
Watchmen is definitely a “must-read” comic, even if only for the passing history lesson that it offers (the anxiety about nuclear war comes across very clearly in the graphic novel, much less so in the film). It might also be rightly called a “must re-read” comic, as multiple passes through the pages will allow readers to pick up on a number of details they missed the first time through. Take, for example, the brilliant layout of one chapter, titled fearful “Symmetry”: the panels are laid out to be symmetrical from the first page of the chapter to the last, including identical beginning and ending images. A subtle visual choice, but extremely clever, and easy to miss the first time through (at least, if you’re a goofball like me).
So, those of you who have read the series: what’s your take? How did you like the film adaptation? What do you think the most important legacy of Watchmen is? Let’s hear!
