Inevitable 'Watchmen' review post

When Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons began work on Watchmen, the twelve-issue DC Comics maxiseries (yup, that’s what we called them in 1986) that would come to bear the literary aspirations of superhero comics fandom on its shoulders, they chose to restrict themselves by declaring certain established techniques off-limits. Watchmen contains no thought balloons, the cloud-shaped bubbles used for expository interjections or angsty soliloquies. It has no narrator to say “Meanwhile....” Perhaps most tellingly, Watchmen—cited in a hundred newspaper articles with the headline “Pow! Zap! Comics aren’t just for kids anymore!”—contains none of the onomatopoeic sound effects that Roy Lichtenstein and the Batman TV show made a symbol of the medium. When characters in Watchmen throw punches or fire guns, the bangs and crashes are entirely implied by the images. The only sound that’s explicit in Watchmen is the characters’ speech, of which there’s a lot. For all its sudden eruptions of violence and magic, Watchmen consists largely of people talking to each other.

Starting in the early 1960s, superhero artists had begun to explode the rigid borders of the comic-strip panel into vivid, kinetic layouts. With Watchmen, Moore and Gibbons moved ostentatiously to the opposite extreme: every page of the series is a variation on a rigid nine-panel grid. (If Jack Kirby’s Fantastic Four is a Beethoven symphony, Watchmen is the Goldberg Variations.) This metronomic regularity is part of Watchmen’s intricate fitting of form to content: the scenes of high adventure and everyday life are accompanied by a constant reminder, as if from the omniscient perspective of some objective overseer, of time’s steady passage.

The soundtrack to Zack Snyder’s Watchmen movie, which I saw last night, is crammed from start to finish with pop songs, melodramatic synthesizer fanfares, and digital effects. Every punch is accompanied by a whoosh of air and a percussive crack. When characters in Snyder’s movie fight, they alternate between Matrix-style “bullet time” and the sped-up style of kung-fu movies. Whereas Snyder has gone to great and sometimes absurd lengths to transliterate the story from comics to film—taking dialogue verbatim from Moore, recreating Gibbons’s images down to the smallest details—he steadfastly refuses to restrict his options as they did. Sweeping strings? Graphic dismemberment? Superspeed gymastics on the part of characters without superpowers—characters whose whole narrative purpose centers on the fact that they’re ordinary human beings? Sure, man, it looks cool!

I enjoyed every minute of the movie, although everything I got from it was derived from having read the comic a dozen times more than a decade ago. The casting is mostly very good: I genuinely believed I was watching Rorshach and Nite Owl and the Comedian. (The glaring exception is Ozymandias, who should be a Tom Cruise type, great-looking and super-likeable, rather than a skinny, sinister Euro.) And Snyder’s self-indulgence is fun to watch, in a way. Moore’s goal was to present a superhero story as seriously as possible, and he sometimes ran into that limit and kept going. Cranking up the volume, as Snyder does, highlights the lurid pulp elements, the ultraviolence and fetish costumes, that Watchmen insists are guilty pleasures.

But beyond formal rigidity, something central is missing. Watchmen isn’t great literature, but at least it’s about something. It’s a critique of the ideas of power and morality that are fundamental to the superhero genre; it’s about what it means to wish for godlike abilities, or to imagine that you’re fighting for justice, or to appoint yourself the protector of others. If you read superhero comics you’re probably invested in these ideas, at least unconsciously, which is why Watchmen was a meaningful experience for me at the age of thirteen: it makes you think. It’s hard to imagine Snyder’s movie making anyone think.

Link rodeo:

• Adam Gopnik remembers Saul Steinberg.
• The real progenitors of modern Republicanism are not Goldwater and Reagan but McCarthy and Nixon.
• Terry Gross interviews the great Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff, of Philadelphia International Records [web, iTunes].

This made me really sad for Jack Kirby.

Obviously I haven't been tracking Watchmen's progress into mainstream awareness, but surely this represents a new level of cultural penetration. A woman writes in to "Dear Prudence," Slate's advice column, about her insensitive-genius boyfriend. She ends with, "Am I being unreasonable for wanting a little bit of slack, or should I just accept that I'm dating Dr. Manhattan and let it go?" Emily Yoffe responds, "Mr. Spock and Dr. Manhattan are effective characters because while they seem human, their lack of emotion and empathy means they aren't quite."

What's startling is that no one feels the need to explain who Dr. Manhattan is.

What would a Smurf Asterix look like? This, apparently. If my French still works, it was designed by Albert Uderzo himself, to evoke the soft and always smiling Peyo he knew. (Uderzo drew the Asterix comics; Peyo was the creator of the Smurfs; beyond that you're on your own.)

Very sad story about David Levine, the genius New York Review of Books caricaturist. Levine did so many incredible drawings for so long that I took him 100% for granted, and when another illustrator's work started showing up in the NYRB last year it made me weirdly queasy. The story's not complicated or surprising: Levine is 81, and his eyesight's going. He spent his whole life as a freelancer and doesn't have a pension. Go to his gallery on the NYRB site and type in the name of a writer or a politician from the last 50 years. Try the really famous ones -- try Joyce. (There's eight.) Check out Philip Roth: how does he feel to see himself captured like that, eleven times, from 1969 to 2000? Who will replace David Levine?

"Maybe I say this because people keep using the word crisis all the time, but I was just thinking 'you know, it kinda feels like the United States is in the middle of a big crossover event right now.'"

Why we love xkcd: This. It seems like it's going to be a sex joke, but then it turns out to be a math joke. And then, while you think about it, it turns back into a sex joke, but one that's sophisticated and kind of wise rather than crude.

Department of impossibly awesome: Samuel Beckett pitching gag ideas to Ernie Bushmiller.

I think the problem you're having, Sam, is the same problem any literary man might have. You're not setting up the gags visually and you're rushing to the snapper. It seems to me you've got the zingers right there at the beginning, in panel No. 1, and although I have to admit you got Nancy and Sluggo in some crackerjack predicaments, I don't see how they got there.

For instance, putting Nancy and Sluggo in the garbage cans is a good gag, but in my opinion, you can't have them in there for all three panels. How did they get there? Same thing when you had them buried in the sand. I like to do beach gags, but I don't think that having Nancy buried up to her waist in the first two panels and then up to her neck in the third one is adequately explained, and I've been at this game for a while now.

What is the single most annoying way to return from a medium-length blog hiatus? You might imagine that it's the classic apology-for-the-lack-of-posts post -- and indeed, that was the conventional wisdom until today, when I happened upon a brand new and measurably more annoying way: the rare I-keep-stumbling-into-money post.

On Saturday I went to the track for the first time. (On the train I said, 'We are, quite literally, off to the races!' which is something you would only do if you had never been to the races before.) I put $20 on the special MetroCard-of-gambling thing they have, made some small bets, lost some, won a couple, watched my stake dwindle. And then I hit the exacta in the ninth (one of the best parts of going to the races was saying things like 'Who do you like in the ninth?') and walked away with $75.

Then today I took a bunch of old clothes to the hipster used-clothing store, expecting them to laugh at me, and instead they gave me $81.

And then the mail arrives and there's a tax-rebate check, plus a check from a class-action settlement. Time to fire up the blog again!
___

There's going to be more blogging in the next little while. It might be a little different from the RoBros blogging you're used to: I'm not going to link much, because I'm trying to regain some of my short-term-memory/power-of-concentration/general-mental-mojo by not spending as much time on the internet. Maybe it'll be a return to the classic here's-what-I-think-about-Apple/Billy Joel/superhero comics era. Maybe you'll be able to watch my thinking skills return, in real time! Dunno.

In a way my return to the blogodrome is overdetermined: there is, after all, a contretemps going on that involves Barack Obama, The New Yorker, and cartooning. Much of the commentary on Barry Blitt's cover has been along the lines of this, from Time's Michael Scherer. Scherer quotes 270 words from William Rehnquist to make the point that "Despite their sometimes caustic nature ... graphic depictions and satirical cartoons have played a prominent role in public and political debate."

Rehnquist was asserting that cartoons count as protected speech under the First Amendment. Scherer, on the other hand, is arguing with a straw man. Jack Shafer does something similar: "Has the public's taste for barbed drawings waned since the Paul Conrad, Herblock, Pat Oliphant, and Bill Mauldin heydays, or have the voices of the would-be bowdlerizers gotten stronger? Shall we don blinders and erect barriers so nobody is offended or misled? Only weak thinkers fear strong images."

The argument against Blitt's drawing is not that cartooning is worthless, or that there's no place for satirical illustration. The argument is that this specific cartoon is a failure of imagination, and that depicting a calumny is not the same thing as satirizing that calumny. Scherer's attempt to defend cartooning is in fact weirdly patronizing to cartoonists everywhere: if cartoons constitute a form of political expression, if they have any meaning at all, then they can legitimately inspire disdain. The First Amendment protects the right of the speaker to speak, but it also protects the right of the listener to boo.

I'll bet you Blitt's illustration appears, unmodified, on merchandise for sale at the Republican convention.

Don't miss David Bianculli's great interview with Jack Kirby biographer Mark Evanier (web, iTunes).

Interpreting censorship as damage part two: Perhaps you would like to read Michael Chabon's original screenplay for Spider-Man 2, which differs significantly from the one that was filmed. Perhaps you were disappointed to find that it's no longer available at McSweeneys.net. Perhaps you are interested to know that you can download the whole thing here.

Jeff Lester's revisionist take on the famously botched conclusion of Kirby's New Gods saga. A must.

The Lost writers room sounds a lot like conversations between the Roth brothers:

DL: We have one writer, Brian K. Vaughn, who writes comic books, and then another writer, Adam Horowitz, who's like a die-hard sports fan.
CC: Yankees fan. He used to sell hot dogs at Yankees Stadium.
DL: We'll ask Vaughn an easy sports question, like how many innings are there in a baseball game...
CC: Or what is the color of the Carolina Panthers or what sport do the Carolina Panthers play...
DL: And then we'll ask Horowitz to name two of the Avengers. And they will face off, and it's fun to watch them, you know, try to answer questions outside of their specific area of expertise.

Abhay Khosla on the new Blue Beetle series:

Consider the likely goals of the creators at the outset of the series:

(1) Tell a single two-year meta-story that was comprised of smaller story arcs (what TV fans might call the "Buffy" model); (2) launch a new superhero character in a marketplace hostile to new superhero characters; (3) launch an ethnic character to an audience that never supports minority characters; (4) tie into the shitty, oppressive meta-story of the "DC Universe"; (5) remain independent enough of the shitty, oppressive meta-story of the “DC Universe" to convey the book’s own meta-story in a comprehensible way; (6) service a meta-arc while satisfying the demands of monthly fans-- e.g. having a superhero fight every issue; (7) tell a superhero origin story as well as telling a teen coming-of-age story; (8) juggle a superhero cast-- heroes, villains, mentors, etc.-- with a sizable supporting cast for the teen coming-of-age story; (9) place the brand new Blue Beetle character into some kind of larger context visa vi earlier iterations of the Blue Beetle brand name, without angering fans of previous iterations by suggesting those earlier versions were somehow less than the new version, while still allowing said fans to see the new characters as being a worthy inheritor of the brand name; and (10) present an all-ages book that's friendly to new fans looking for a new character to latch onto but also friendly to DCU otaku.

SPOILER WARNING: they fail.

This copyright notice, from Journalista, has been a long time coming:

Panels from the first page of the original Superman story that appeared in Action Comics #1, ©1938 Detective Comics, Inc. and the Estate of Jerome Siegel. Hot damn, that was fun to type! Let’s do it again: ©1938 Detective Comics, Inc. and the Estate of Jerome Siegel. God bless America.

Seven story ideas about Batman

Batman is having doubts about Robin. At 13, Robin is small and weak, and he wears a bright red vest that makes him an easy target. So Batman sends Robin away to military academy and starts recruiting a new partner. He’s thinking a black guy would be good, like in the movies – the white guy and his quiet, dignified black sidekick. He tries out a couple of black guys, but they don’t have Robin’s blind devotion and disregard for his own life. He pulls Robin out of school and the Dynamic Duo is reunited.

A priceless jewel-encrusted bird statue is to be exhibited at the Gotham Museum. Everyone expects the Penguin to try to steal it, and the museum directors are counting on Batman to foil his plans. Batman realizes that he’s created a situation of moral hazard. “Let the Penguin steal the fucking thing,” Batman says. “If they insist on exhibiting these fucking bird statues all the time, it’s their problem.”

A liberal city council member runs for mayor of Gotham City, advocating a “harm reduction” policy for drug offenses. Batman’s not about to let this wimp go soft on crime in his town. Fortunately, Wayne Enterprises has a very profitable line in voting-machine software.

Batman is intrigued by the idea of S&M roleplaying, and spends an hour looking at websites that feature photos of men tied up and abused by women in elaborate leather costumes. He’s careful to clear the browser cache and history when he’s finished.

Wayne Enterprises takes a big hit in the telecommunications collapse of 2001. Batman, in his secret identity of Bruce Wayne, lays off thousands of employees. He also fires much of his senior management team, including Lucius Fox. “You’re dead weight, old man,” Batman says.

Batman’s Justice League teammates get sick of him barking orders through their telepathic link. “I’m sick of that maniac yelling in my brain,” says Green Lantern to Superman. “I have a power ring that manifests my will in physical form, and you’re invulnerable, and he’s just an asshole in a costume. Why do we let him talk to us like that?”
“Shhh! Shhh!” Superman says. “He’ll hear you!”

As of today, Batman hasn’t cried for his parents in 9,211 days.
_____
Previously: 13 story ideas featuring Green Lantern.

Thirteen story ideas featuring Green Lantern

Green Lantern puts his power ring down somewhere and can’t remember where he put it. As luck would have it, all kinds of supernatural outer-space crap starts happening right then. Fortunately he finds his power ring and smashes them.

Green Lantern gets jealous of Superman for being more famous than he is and challenges him to a big fight. Superman declines. Green Lantern goes to find Superman to kick his ass, but right when he gets there some thieves are trying to rob a bank. Superman and Green Lantern team up to stop the robbery, and Green Lantern’s envy is mollified. But then the next day the newspaper says “Superman, Green Arrow foil bank robbery,” and Green Lantern is really mad.

Green Lantern’s girlfriend complains that he doesn’t do enough household chores. Green Lantern tries to use his power ring to do the chores, but he makes a terrible mess.

Green Lantern goes on vacation to the Carribean to forget about saving the world and stopping crime for a while. But while he’s there people keep coming up to him and asking him to help them solve their problems, and he returns to the United States even more tired and stressed than he was before.

Green Lantern messes up and aliens take over the world.

Green Lantern invites all the other superheroes to his birthday party, but they’re all busy.

Green Lantern’s brother calls and asks Green Lantern if he (the brother) can borrow some money. Green Lantern is in sort of a quandry, because he knows the brother lost all his money playing blackjack. He tells the brother he’ll give him the money if the brother demonstrates that he’s making an effort to address his gambling problem, e.g. by going to Gambler’s Anonymous meetings. The brother gets huffy and resentful and asks Green Lantern who he (Green Lantern) thinks he is to be telling the brother how to live his (the brother’s) life. “You’re not Dad, you know!” Green Lantern’s brother says. After that they don’t talk for a long time.

Some of the people who Green Lantern used to work with in his secret identity see pictures of him in his Green Lantern costume and recognize him. They call him up and take him out for a beer and tell him that his secret is safe with them. But one of them in particular has always been jealous of Green Lantern (even before he discovered that he was Green Lantern), and Green Lantern fears that this jealous ex-coworker is going to go to the newspapers with the information about Green Lantern’s secret identity. So Green Lantern has to deal with this somehow. Maybe he digs up some dirt on the guy and says, If you reveal my secret, I’ll reveal yours. Although that wouldn’t be very heroic.

Green Lantern starts taking piano lessons. It’s just something he’s always wanted to do.

Green Lantern realizes that he’s been doing things the hard way. He tells his power ring to figure out which are the most important situations that need to be addressed, and then just deal with them itself. The power ring turns out to be better at dealing with crime etc. than Green Lantern himself, and this makes Green Lantern depressed.

Green Lantern starts betting on sporting events, and he gets pretty deep into debt with a shady bookie. He wagers it all on one big sporting event, then uses his power ring to ensure victory for the team he bet on. It’s not clear how this one ends – if Green Lantern’s scheme is successful or not.

Green Lantern starts to think that, because he’s dependent on a power ring, he’s less of a man than Batman. So Green Lantern starts going out on patrol without his power ring, to see if he can succeed as a superhero with only his wits and his natural strength.

Green Lantern gets a high-speed Internet connection in his home for the first time. He becomes an avid reader of political blogs, and as a result his crimefighting suffers.

Talented comics people seem to be dying off faster than sympathetic corner boys on The Wire. Now comes word that Rocketeer creator Dave Stevens has died of leukemia, aged 52. Stevens was a craftsman of a kind they don't make much anymore: in love with his own idealized physical world and beautifully drawn line. As a teenage boy I had this poster up on my wall, for obvious reasons.