Who Watches the "Watchmen"? We Do!

Or, we did. Last night, to be exact.

There are no movie theaters in the immediate vicinity of Solipsist Central,

so we usually have to wait for the DVD.

Was it worth the wait?

First, we LOVE Watchmen (1986-7). If you aren't already familiar with the title, a bit of background. Before the term "graphic novel" was an accepted term for respectable works of literary art, a Brit named Alan Moore was redefining what it meant to be a comic-book writer. Before he came along, the words in characters' speech balloons were subservient to the artwork, and the best comic writers were generally visual artists first, wordsmiths second. Moore changed that, bringing a screenwriter's sensibility to dialogue, and providing artists with meticulous descriptions to bring his words to life.

Moore made his mark in the US beginning in 1983 with a reworking of Len Wein and Berni Wrightson's horror comic, Swamp Thing, for which he won several Jack Kirby awards (the Oscars of the comics world). Then, in 1986, he and artist Dave Gibbons produced Watchmen.

For all you may have heard about this title over the last few months, what with the movie and all, what you need to understand is that Watchmen changed comic books. Arguably, it is responsible for the term "graphic novel"; it seemed inappropriate to refer to a work of art as dark, as psychologically complex, as intricately plotted and characterized as this as a "comic book." A new term had to be devised.

Not only was it the greatest comic book ever written, but it also took full advantage of the comic-book form. Originally published as a 12-issue mini-series, the novel tells the story of a group of masked vigilantes (who, it should be noted, are not actually called "The Watchmen"--as they are in the film) who are adjusting--with greater or lesser success--to a world that no longer wants them. Anticipating the TV show "Lost," alternating episodes provide the back-story of each major character, while also propelling the overall plot: a Whodunnit set against the backdrop of imminent nuclear holocaust. Not enough going on? There's also a "comic-within-the-comic," a 1950's-style horror comic about pirates called "The Tales of the Black Freighter," which parallels the main story-line, setting up symbolic resonance throughout the book.

In other words, there's a lot going on here--so much, in fact, that bringing it to the big screen proved problematic. Over the twenty-plus years since its publication, a "Watchmen" film has almost continuously been in one or another stage of development. Most intriguingly, in 1991, Terry Gilliam ("Brazil," "The Fisher King," etc.) was set to direct, but he backed out,. He felt that, to be true to the material, he would need to make a five-hour miniseries, instead of a two to two-and-a-half hour film. Upon seeing Zack Snyder's 2009 version, we have to agree with Gilliam.

See, to us, the basic problem with the movie was not that it corrupted Moore's and Gibbons' vision--indeed, the movie demonstrates Snyder's true love of the source material: Much of the film follows the graphic novel panel-for-panel. But in its faithfulness to the original, the movie as a whole feels disjointed. As we watched, we found ourselves thinking, "OK, and that's the end of issue #2. . . . And this is the issue where we get Dr. Manhattan's back-story. . . . And here's Rorschach's story. . . ." Ultimately, this has the effect of breaking up the flow of the movie as a whole. And whereas this works in a comic book, where you have a month between issues to digest what you have just read--or whereas it would probably work as a TV miniseries for the same reasons--in a feature film it has the effect of stopping the forward momentum, which the film must then try to regenerate.

We're not going to quibble overly much with what was left out of the movie. We understand it would have been too much to ask for the inclusion of "Tales of the Black Freighter." The ending was a bit annoying in that the filmmakers decided to go for a somewhat "neater" (if not happier) ending than in the novel, but, again, we're willing to accept that.

The acting, too, was hit and miss. Billy Crudup intones nicely as the godlike Dr. Manhattan. Jeffrey Dean Morgan does a good job as the Comedian: His main challenge is to make a thoroughly distasteful human being somewhat likable, and he succeeds. Jackie Earle Haley has the juiciest part as the psychopathic hero "Rorschach": He wears the mask well, but at times he seems to be doing a parody of Clint Eastwood in. . . well, in just about anything, really. The rest of the cast leaves much to be desired: Malin Ackerman (Silk Spectre II) and Patrick Wilson (Nite Owl II) perform about the unsexiest sex scene we've ever seen. And Matthew Goode plays Adrian Veidt with such hauteur that (spoiler alert) it's hard to believe anyone can't figure out he's the central badguy--which is supposed to come as something of a surprise (and what is UP with his accent?).

In the end, we're glad we saw it--and even gladder that we didn't shell out ten bucks for the privilege. But we're also a bit sad. This could have--should have--been a masterpiece. The source material deserves better. We feel bad for all the folks out there who haven't read the book and who are now probably disinclined to do so, thinking they've already had the "Watchmen" experience.

Take our word for it: If you haven't read the book, you haven't gotten the story.