Watch, Man

This is not a reviews site. Not one to idly spoon-feed fanboy sentiment to the Pepsi-swollen gullets of seekers of what's 'hip'. So I'll be brief and to the point, Watchmen kicked your momma's ass, and did so in spades.

I figured I'd not hedge on that introduction, to weed out those not interested, though they should realize that the Bunker on other weeks ranges in its weekly topics from Chinese Olympic failures, to suicidal investment strategies, to the inherent evil of unicycles. If any of that other stuff sounds promising, check back next time. Otherwise, soldier on.

Such reviews should probably be presented to the point of view of an uninitiated reader, one not yet to delve into Alan Moore's novella cum big star screen spectacular. Such newbie viewers, as well as the well-read should know one thing about Mr. Moore. While he excelled in the forming of tales and imagery both rich and brutal, he lacked in the department of palm reading. His pronouncement so many years past that his own creation was unfilmable has been proven flat wrong. Not to take anything away from his foresight, at the time the ill-fated quote was spake it was probably true, given the pulley-and-wire nature of modern filmmaking by comparison.

Today's Watchmen pays ample respect to a comic fans' loathing of deviation, despite some fairly minor absences die hards may sneer at their absence of. But to be truthful, I no longer follow the development of films until their completion. Ever since Lord of the Rings, I prefer to go in cold turkey. And even though I had already dined on a paperback version of Watchmen, it was many years ago. I had forgotten much so my sense of accuracy may be impaired at this point, but who cares?

Despite my having already been a fan from a reading way back when, the film failed as it were, to disappoint. Yes, that's a double negative for those checking my math at home. This film checks off the vital stats of any successful comic adaptation: it was (very) good, it kept true enough to the spirit of the story, and it will work for those who don't already know the story cold.

The premise of the plot, the 30,000 footer of it, is something as follows: Following the second world war a man is accidentally irradiated in some DoD experiment gone haywire, turning him into an uber-man, a living American God capable of nearly any trick that could be devised by the minds of Roddenberry or Einstein. Standard 50's comic faire if you will, but I mean that most generously as the period feels (each decade from the “Greatest Generation” up to where Reagan should have been judging by the skinny neckties gets a turn) are well done. This Dr. Manhattan is himself a major bulwark in the US defense arsenal, playing the part of nuclear deterrent and top scientific researcher, and needless to say the genesis of the film's most inspired effects. The blue, glowing Manhattan possesses the straight forward logic of Spock, alongside the tank-crushing loyalty of a trained, thinking weapon able to see the past, present and future in his own unique slurry of existence.

Around the same time, a cadre of self-appointed super heroes (sans actual super powers) implants itself within the stream of American history. These “costumes” make it their sworn duty to protect America from it's own inner rot. But the populace come to question the need for still allowing a privileged class of knuckle breakers to exist in their own world above the law. War is over, who do these do-gooders think they are? Years after such vigilantes have been voted out of favor, someone mysteriously decides to start wiping them out, with extreme prejudice. And thus your plotline.

The opening segment that follows a costume's murder features a montage of 60's and 70's era history, perverted by the temporal deviations of super heroes and chance. What follows is akin to reading an alternative history novel. You quickly catch up on everything that happened along this skewed path, from the glorious- picture an invincible hundred foot tall blue enigma winning the Vietnam war by the mere nod of his omnipotent head (think Francis Ford Coppola told to film a sci-fi battle), to the mass, ongoing acceptance of Nixon that results from such an unnatural Far East victory. Leading to not only a Watergate free second term but a dissent-strangling third and maybe more. In a world where the Viet Cong throw down their weapons and pray at the foot of the very American God that humbled them, things are bound to be a little different.

And yes as you're learning a new history, you'll be subjected to some of its violence. Ooo, yeah some of it is up there if you're not ready. But knowing what was coming helps. I didn't really have the impression it was gratuitous, this from someone who flat out refuses to subject himself to today's modern jerk-off of a film genre, the torture flick. Much of the blood and guts of this tale seems to fit in, as it unfortunately would in any challenging (brutal) history. Granted the pint of fine Canadian whisky that swam with my large Coke in the back of the AMC may have aided in my acceptance of such bloody excesses, but I digress. The social and human commentary that are offered as reward for delving into the piece outweigh any case of the “ewws” you may develop. Ironically, it is often the very “super heroes” that commit the worst of the offenses as they undertake their missions to better mankind.

One of the main characters in the tragedy, the first aforementioned target of the mysterious assassin, goes by the name of The Comedian. Here is a son of a bitch that challenges the viewer's shades of gray. A fascist would be the easiest label for such a shoot ex-girlfriends first, down jovial beers later kind of guy. But such generalizations become harder to diagnose after the flashbacks and recollections that suggest he's somewhere near the realm of a Jack Bauer that gets downright horny when cracking bones to defend his motherland. This is a Nazi you want on your side, despite how hideous that sounds for you to admit. Is this a man made cruel by a government needing to spread fear and domination to maintain its status quo, or does he use his bully pulpit as a mere excuse to rape, destroy and unleash his disgust of mankind's tragic condition? Probably both. The Comedian is everything loud and overbearing you hate, but also everything loyal and ballsy you respect. He's the kind of strutting, twisted American hero you would picture rescuing Betty Page from a band of filthy Commies, then tearing open her Esquire magazine outfit, raping her, and kicking her dog for getting in his way on the way out.

In fact the Red Menace plays a large role in the story's trajectory. Author Moore is by no means on the left or the right, though he likes to dabble with the extremes of both. Anyone having read his V for Vendetta know him as an unapologetic Anarchist. Here, though he basically satirizes facism's over-potent cure for it's ideological opposite, he allows how such excesses could spawn and flourish if given the right conditions. In one scene, as happened often in Moore's original comic screenplay, a sign from the background scenery asks a probing question of the reader (now viewer). This one takes the form of a government-sponsored billboard straight out of Nixon's Machiavellian playbook: “In your heart, you Know it's Right”. Throughout his graphic novel, signs on the street, television broadcasts, even the very graffiti all spell out an undercurrent of a society needing to be reassured of it's need for its warm, protective, if crime-ridden cloak of Facism whether it wants it or not. Particularly as it is presented as the sole promised bastion of safety against a growing and aggressive Soviet threat.

Where reality ends and Watchmen begins is sometimes a faint line, oft disguised under the obfuscating variable of human nature. In the desolate wastes of Antarctica, the final battle against the unearthed assassin probes at your psyche. Just how far would you go for the endgame goal of true world peace, even if it comes at the pre-calculated and logically accepted price of millions of deaths? This is pragmatism at a level dreamed of by even Kissinger. Would you let such a devastating conspiratorial compromise go unanswered, even unreported? These are questions you hope you're never asked. But they sure look good on film.