Watchmen review


Zach’s epic review of Watchmen, the film and the comic, is referenced in the first episode of the podcast.  It contains spoilers for just about everything.


The Two Watchmen:

A Critical Analysis

As all of you are aware, this month saw the theatrical release of Watchmen, directed by Zack Snyder and based on a comic by Alan Moore and David Gibbons, often regarded as the greatest comic ever written. Snyder knew how many fans Watchmen had, and knew how infuriated they would be if he messed up the adaptation. More importantly, he was a fan too, so he would have to answer to himself if he did. So Snyder attempted to make as faithful an adaptation as was possible, necessarily trimming certain subplots that, while essential to Moore’s vision, were less important when being considered for a condensed film version. But did he succeed? Is Watchmen-the-film as stunning a work of fiction as Watchmen-the-comic?


First, I’ll dispense with some less weighty criticisms, both positive and negative, of the performances, two specifically. Most of the acting in this film is fine – some fantastic. Jackie Earl Haley is fittingly awesome as Roschach, and he truly makes the role his own. Dr. Manhattan, a blue, glowing man-god, had so much potential to seem hokey rather than the dense, meaningful character he is, but between Snyder’s interpretation of him and Billy Crudup’s portrayal, he works just as well as in the comic, and is the most memorable character in the film. (Please note “memorable.” While most will leave the film with greater appreciation for Rorschach than Manhattan, when you’re on your death bed decades from now, who are you more likely to remember? A sociopath with an animated mask or a shiny blue naked man who traveled to Mars?) Jeffrey Dean Morgan is terrific as The Comedian, and in my opinion hasn’t gotten enough praise for his work. But I’ll go into more detail on those three later, along with Matthew Goode as Adrian Veidt, a performance I had problems with.


Let’s focus now on the central relationship of the story, the one between the Night Owl II and the Silk Spectre II, Dan Dreiberg and Laurie Juspeczyk. Dan Dreiberg has let himself go a bit in the years since the Watchmen were forced to retire. He has attempted to live a civilized life, pretending to be over and done with crime-fighting. But in his heart, he feels unsatisfied when he is not wearing his mask and fighting crime. His weekly get-togethers with Hollis Mason, the original Night Owl, are heavily indicative of this. They’re the closest thing he has now to his memories of being a superhero. He even refers to those meetings as the highlight of his week. In the story, he only begins to feel alive when he puts back on the Night Owl mask and saves the tenants of a burning building. This ignites a passion in him that he hasn’t felt in years. While a few have had problems with Patrick Wilson’s performance, mostly that he doesn’t look like enough of a schlub, I don’t agree with them. I believe he does a superb job as Night Owl II, and I don’t even take issue with his physical appearance. While his sloppiness post-retiring isn’t as evident as it was in the comic, I still think people will walk away realizing the true nature of the character, what he has become since the Keene Act passed and what he becomes when he finally decides to ignore it.

Laurie Jupiter, as the story begins, resides with Dr. Manhattan in a military research center. Her job is to keep Dr. Manhattan company as his sole attachment to humanity, ultimately the only thing keeping him from abandoning earth. The problem is, the more detached Dr. Manhattan becomes the harder it is for her to tolerate him. She can’t understand the way he perceives time and matter, and he can’t understand why she can’t. Laurie falls for Dan because she, especially after all the years with Dr. Manhattan, is in need of genuine human contact. And the Dan falls for her because she represents his superhero past, which he repeatedly seeks reunion with, and it is in fact her company that pushes him to don the old uniform again.

The couple’s two sexual experiences are particularly representative of this aspect in Night Owl. As Dan Dreiberg, he fails to make love to Laurie. But later that night, after engaging in masked escapades for the first time in eight years, he is able to satisfy her, and himself. These two instances, while the contrast is a little too obvious, are the key moments symbolically in Dreiberg’s character arc. Unfortunately, Malin Akerman does an awful job of playing Laurie Jupiter. It feels almost cruel to be up on her at this point, since every other review written has done so more than efficiently, but it has to be said. She inadequately portrays the complex emotions her role demands. I find it hard to imagine anyone leaving the theater with anywhere near as great a respect for Laurie as they would have after reading the comic.



Now let’s discuss how exactly Zack Snyder adapts the text. As I mentioned earlier, he has attempted to make the most faithful adaptation of the comic possible, and in many ways succeeded. Any Watchmen-obsessive that wanted it to remain as faithful as possible to the comic no doubt got their wish. Snyder used the comic literally as the storyboard when filming. He cut only what was necessary. But does that mean it is exactly a moving version of the comic? With the same themes, the same purposes, the same complexities? Not quite. First let’s focus on what’s missing.

A lot of the back story is missing. The viewer will leave the theater somewhat aware of what a terrible childhood Rorschach had, what a disturbing character The Comedian is (and as I mentioned before, I think the movie does better by the character because of Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s performance), and the role the original Minutemen played in this alternate history, but none of that (and much more) is explored as fully as in the comic, and the story certainly suffers for it. I’m especially disappointed that more of Rorschach’s back story didn’t make it in, and it’s a shame that we didn’t see the entirety of Rorschach’s psychiatric sessions and how they progressively destroyed his psychiatrist’s optimistic personality, eventually ruining his marriage. I can understand why that was left out though time-wise. As for the original Minutemen, while it is somewhat awkward how, except for Silk Spectre and Night Owl, they exist purely in the background of the film, particularly in the case of Hooded Justice, it’s pretty clear that their story had to be trimmed.

One thing I’d like to discuss is how Snyder adapts the fourth chapter of the comic, which is my favorite. Dr. Manhattan has been exiled to Mars, and the reader comes as far as they ever will in understanding how Dr. Manhattan interprets time. He sits contemplating moments in his life, in the future and in the past, jumping so quickly that each memory feels like a mere snapshot. (Fittingly, an actual snapshot plays a significant role in the chapter.) He mentions what he will do in the future – “Two hours into my future, I observe meteorites from a glass balcony, thinking about my father.” Then he immediately jumps back in time – “It’s 1945. I sit in a Brooklyn kitchen, fascinated by an arrangement of cogs on black velvet. I am sixteen years old.” Next – “It is 1985. I am on Mars. I am fifty-years-old.” It creates an incredible effect, being transported back and forth through time by a man who cannot perceive time linearly. Through it, you come to know a lot about Dr. Manhattan’s back story. In the film, Snyder includes this scene, but he smoothes it out considerably. The jumps are far more infrequent, and gone are the references to him dropping a picture in twelve seconds or the imminent meteorite descent. I understand why he toned it down. It could have proven too jarring to the Watchmen novice. But I wish he’d have left it more intact – I am sure that it could have worked on screen, and would only have enhanced the film.

Far more significant is the removal of an entire subplot. Throughout the comic, starting in chapter three, the story frequently departs from the superhero-focused action to depict a newsvendor rattling off thoughts about impending doom while a young kid sits next to his stand reading the latest issue of Tales of the Black Freighter. I’ll get to the importance of the Black Freighter story a little later, but suffice it to say the comic would be an emptier read without it. However, there’s no way it could work within the film – just the fact that it would be animated instead of in still images is an uncomfortable departure. I am not at all pleased that Zack Snyder plans to reincorporate this into the film on the DVD. I think that’s going to feel awkward at best, especially since it’s just something he plans to do in the editing room – it’s unclear how much material, if any, he actually shot of the newsvendor and the kid. (Though there’s at least a little bit of them, which I’ll get to in a second.) Plus, in order to appreciate the Freighter story, you have to read very closely and deeply contemplate the excerpts and how they reflect the story, noticing how the excerpts often mirror the ramblings of the newsvendor.

However, I appreciate that Snyder acknowledged their presence with a couple of shots of them, particularly when New York City is destroyed. In the novel, those two stand nearby a group of people fighting, all of whom made appearances throughout the novel (mostly cut from the film). As they fight, they suddenly notice and incredible bright light in the distance. The panels portray silence as they stop what they are doing and look towards the light. Their imminent destruction slowly dawns upon them. In what they both must realize will be their final action, the newsvendor and the boy embrace. The newsvendor looks as if he’s attempting to shield the boy from a destruction that he knows he cannot prevent. This all happens on only one page, but it symbolizes so much. It shows that in the face of destruction, humanity will become unified, a concept central to Veidt’s ultimate plot. It represents the climax of the comic’s most important visual motif, of two people holding each other as a massive explosion engulfs them. With death imminent, people will put aside every difference, every disagreement, and hold one another. It’s an incredible message and an incredible moment, and, while Snyder does not portray this recurring image as often as in the comic, it is still powerful to see it on screen. It also serves as a wink to the viewer who has read the comic and knows the story of those two figures from the original, so it actually works to the benefit of the film.



Now to focus on the originality in parts of Zack Snyder’s adaptation, including some of the more notable instances of creative license in his film. Snyder had to inject a little of his own creative flare somehow, and it’s essential to the adaptation that all of it work. But it can’t be said that all of it does.

First, I want to talk about the soundtrack. In order to ground the film in the past, Snyder employs a soundtrack of some of the more notable chart-toppers of the decades past, and a lot of it falls flat. The first song used is Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” which works, but mostly for reasons pertaining to the scene it is featured in, which I’ll discuss in a bit. I haven’t really decided if I think Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” works over the sex scene between Dan and Laurie. I give Snyder credit for not using Jeff Buckley’s definitive version of the song, which I believe depreciates in value every time I hear it in pop culture instead of in the dark with headphones on. (I think my adoration for that version of the song may be blocking me from level-headed analysis of whether the song works in the movie.) Other songs, like Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” and Jimi Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower” (one of two Dylan covers), feel like they more or less work but are fairly inessential. It would have been much more interesting to hear some original compositions instead, or some more obscure tracks from the era. (Even some more obscure Hendrix or Simon & Garfunkel tracks would have worked better.) But the worst offender is when “99 Luftballoons” is used. I just can’t take that song seriously, and I found it hard to sustain from laughing when that song began, either time I saw it. Snyder made some very poor soundtrack choices.

But more important are some of the changes or additions he makes to the story. For one thing, there’s too much violence. Much of the violence is needless and does not originate from the text. When Dan and Laurie break into prison to free Rorschach, they take down a series of criminals in slow-motion. This particular fight was not in the comic. (Another sequence comes to mind as an example of this that I’ll get to in a bit.) And many have taken issue with the slow motion, but I feel it mostly works pretty well. Unfortunately, in a scene such as the prison break-in, it feels heavily excessive, especially since the existence of that sequence is excessive in the first place.

Many have suggested that Watchmen could be a better film if only Snyder had departed from the original text more, and that’s an interesting perspective. I’m going to take a look at three scenes in particular that take dramatic departures from the text and determine if this theory has any merit.

First, the opening credits sequence. The credits play over an incredible series of snapshots that depict how much the presence of superheroes has changed the course of our national, and sometimes global, history. It uses Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin’” in the soundtrack, and it all works brilliantly. It was also nowhere in the comic, although it incorporates certain aspects of the back story that appeared elsewhere in it. So the film’s second-biggest liberty is also one of its greatest successes.

The second scene worth noting is a harrowing one. While Rorschach is being interviewed in the psychiatric session, we learn of an event in which he waited in a murderer’s house until the man arrived home. In the book, he attacks the man and handcuffs him to a boiler. He then sets the house on fire. He leaves the man a hacksaw. The man’s options are to burn down with his house or cut his arm off and escape. Rorschach watches the house burn to the ground, and no one emerges. In the film, once he has attacked the man, he corners him. Then he takes a hatchet and drives it into his skull, multiple times. This does not work anywhere near as well as his actions in the comic, and reflects the excessive violence Snyder employs far too often in his adaptation.

The third notable departure is the ending. In the comic, Adrian Veidt has captured some of the most creative people in the world, including Max Shea, the author of the Black Freighter comics. He puts them on an island and forces them to design an alien species. They construct a squid-like monster through sketches and architectural design. Veidt transports this creature to New York City, and destroys half of the city, making it look like the “alien” was responsible. His goal, which, barring what unfortunate events may occur due to the final moments of either version, is realized, is to unite the world against a common enemy, having America and the Soviet Union put aside their hatred of one another and work together to defeat an alien race. It’s a brilliant climax in the comic, but in the film it could never work as well. The giant squid would look too cheesy (some contend it still does in the comic), and since the entire Black Freighter subplot was dropped, the audience would have no association with Max Shea and his mysterious disappearance. Plus, the added time to explain all that would be too much.

So, the film version of Watchmen departs from the now-classic ending, which many were initially infuriated about. In the film, Veidt instead makes the city’s destruction look like it was caused by Dr. Manhattan. And the truth is, changing it was a great decision. However, credit where credit’s due – this plot change was engineered by co-writer David Hayter, from the script he wrote eight years ago for an abandoned adaptation, not Snyder. But credit to Snyder for including it, and executing it so well. I still prefer the comic to end as it did, especially given its associations with the Freighter story, but for the film, it is a worlds-better ending than the comic’s. So, the film’s final and most significant departure works very well.

In all, it seems that perhaps a few more creative departures on Snyder’s part would only have enhanced his film, just not in terms of the violence. He needed to reel the violent tendencies in his filmmaking in for this movie. The violent scenes from the comic are filmed with excellent technique and style, but you can tell which fights were artificially inserted. I first saw the film without having read the comic in quite some time, so I didn’t have a clear memory of which scenes were original and which weren’t, but sure enough, the violence I ended up disliking was the violence that didn’t originate from the comic. But of those three examples, the second one was also the slightest, which indicates that some bigger liberties on Snyder’s part might have been a good thing.


A lot of the review thus far was about how the film measured up to the comic on a purely plot-based level. But now I want to explore something that Alan Moore was trying to achieve with his comic, much of which is undetectable in the movie. Moore intended Watchmen as a deconstruction of the superhero comic. Watchmen was written before the modern age in which adult-oriented comics have become a huge subgenre. Back in the eighties, the medium was dominated by superheroes. Moore’s intentions in both deconstructing and subverting the superhero comic book are evident in three ways.

Watchmen explores what effect the presence of actual superheroes would have on our society and our global history. It explores this most importantly with the presence of Dr. Manhattan. Dr. Manhattan is a man who, through an accident at a nuclear research center, was transformed into a being capable of bending physical matter, seeing his own future, and teleporting himself from place-to-place. His body is muscular and a bright, glowing blue. He is the superman, he is a god. And what would happen if suddenly an average American became superhuman? Would he fight crime and be given the key to the city by the mayor of Dangerville? No. In all likelihood, especially during the Cold War, he would be used as a weapon by the United States military. Dr. Manhattan reverses the outcome of the Vietnam War, but also makes it probable that the outcome of the Cold War will be reversed too, with both sides being destroyed instead of none. His victory in Vietnam leads to Nixon being elected for a third term, and he’s in his fifth in 1985.

But, on a lesser scale, it considers how society would react to a group of vigilante crime-fighters. While the press seems infatuated with them at first, eventually they end up fostering feelings of great hatred in criminals and great resentment in the law. Soon, the unrest grows so massive that the Keene Act is passed, which outlaws all but the government-sanctioned heroes. This resentment of heroes translates to Dr. Manhattan too, but in a different way. He was never really considered one of these vigilante superheroes, probably because he had actual super powers. But Dr. Manhattan makes people feel insignificant. What’s the point of training to be the fastest runner in the world or the most intelligent scientist when there exists a being that will always be better than you? The self-confidence of the individual will shatter with Dr. Manhattan’s presence.

The second way Moore departs from superhero comics is the least significant, but it’s still notable. Watchmen depicts how much darker society would be with the presence of these heroes. Nuclear holocaust is not only possible, but probably imminent. People are consumed by fears that life as they know it may end tomorrow. Both the film and the comic are often frightening when they show the protests waged against the masked crime-fighters.

But the deepest way that Watchmen transforms the superhero comic, and the aspect it transforms that the film least succeeds in representing, is the way Moore answers a simple question: what kind of twisted fuck dresses up in a mask, tights, and a cape to fight crime? Each character is a different answer. Rorschach is a sociopath consumed by a view that human beings possess inherent evilness, evilness he needs to expunge. The Comedian is a brutal killer who takes whatever role in society will best cater to his bloodlust. The second Night Owl is emotionally unsatisfied unless acting out childish fantasies of being a superhero. The second Silk Spectre was pushed into the profession by her mother, who loved the attention and was forced to retire when she got pregnant. And Ozymandias fancies himself mankind’s greatest specimen and its ultimate savior.

While no one will leave the movie unaware that these are twisted people, will they have any idea how important a role that knowledge plays in Moore’s ultimate goal with the novel? To deconstruct, subvert, and mock the superhero comic, and in the process invent a new type of storytelling for the medium? But it’s easier to see this in the book because of a subplot that, as discussed earlier, was necessarily dropped from the movie. I now return to Tales of the Black Freighter, and this should be the last time I use it so significantly in discussion of the work.


The superhero comic was so popular when it emerged because of how effectively it attached itself to the cultural zeitgeist, the shaping idea (to us only) that America was the greatest nation in global history. Superman, Captain America, and others of their ilk represented American ideals to the extreme. They also provided an escape from an increasingly scary real world. Young teenagers across the country found themselves consumed with the impossible adventures of these patriotic heroes. But what if superheroes actually existed? What happens when Dr. Manhattan exists in real life, especially when most people come to resent his existence? What would have been the course of the American comic book instead? Alan Moore and David Gibbons had a brainstorming session, and Gibbons ultimately had the idea that superhero comics would have been replaced by…pirate comics.

Starting in the third chapter, Watchmen features a comic-within-a-comic that serves as a parallel to the story. Its protagonist’s emotions always seem to echo the average American’s fears of nuclear war, but his actions reflect those of the story’s for-all-intents-and-purposes “villain,” Adrian Veidt (albeit with different outcomes). The fact that the comic is read by the young boy near the newsvendor’s stand shows how these pirate comics would have replaced the superhero comic in modern society, and it is essential to understanding the examination of the superhero comic that Moore intended with the story.



Integral to Watchmen’s mantle as “the greatest comic of all time,” accuracy of that distinction irrelevant, is the various moral dispositions one encounters throughout. Watchmen’s morality centers around four characters, and I’m pleased to say that the film nails the characterization of all but one of them.

Jackie Earl Haley is perfect as the sociopathic Rorschach. You can tell that Snyder realized how awesome a character Rorschach is – he’s known as one of the greatest in comic history. Of all the people I saw the film with, I don’t believe there was a single one who left not thinking Rorschach was a great character. But morally, Rorschach is a fascinating character too. He believes that human beings are inherently evil and has devoted his life to punishing the corrupt. He despises all lower forms of life, which to him include whores, thieves, and homosexuals. Rorschach’s punishments are ruthless. He believes in no compromise, no matter what the cost, a philosophy that ultimately gets him killed.

Dr. Manhattan represents complete detachment from mankind. He has evolved so far beyond what the average human is capable of that he ceases to care about them. He sees life only on the grand scale, not the minute scale of human life. In one of the novel’s (and the film’s) greatest lines, he says to Adrian Veidt, presumably the world’s smartest man, “I’ve walked across the sun. I’ve seen events so tiny and so fast that they can hardly be said to have occurred at all, but you…you are a man. And this world’s smartest man means no more to me than does its smartest termite.” But is it good to have godlike abilities and be so far removed from humanity? The movie does a fantastic job in portraying Dr. Manhattan. Billy Crudup has a voice that I never even dreamed of Manhattan having, but I hope I remember it every time I read the comic in the future, because it works perfectly.

The Comedian is a beyond-interesting character, but it’s best if I leave a description of him up to Rorschach: “[The Comedian] saw the true face of the 20th century and chose to be a parody of it.” While Rorschach may not condone his actions, he has great respect for The Comedian. The Comedian is probably the hardest character for a film to interpret, especially since he is killed in the first scene. To my astonishment, Snyder did a great job. But I have to give credit to Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Thus far in my life, I’d only seen Morgan playing a cuddly romantic-interest/ghost on Grey’s Anatomy or Nancy Botwin’s deceased sweetheart of a husband on Weeds (come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in anything in which he didn’t play a dead man), so I had no idea what to expect from his performance. But against all odds, because of Morgan, the film actually improves upon the comic in regards to The Comedian. Morgan makes The Comedian seem so crazily likeable that, despite his horrendous actions, you can completely understand why Sally Jupiter would return to his arms years after he tried to rape her. The book made this clear too, but it wasn’t quite as visible as in the movie, and it made Sally Jupiter look too much like a pitiable maiden than she should seem to be. I wish The Comedian had had a slightly bigger role in the film, but I can’t complain really, not with a performance that good.

The final character whose morality is essential to the story’s climax is Adrian Veidt, or Ozymandias. Unfortunately, I don’t think Snyder or Goode did an acceptable job with this character. Goode simply doesn’t fit the part. Veidt is the golden specimen of man, both mentally and physically, but Goode looks too frail in the role. His accent is also awkward. And in the film, too little time is devoted to Veidt before the last thirty minutes or so. This means that the majority of the time the audience spends with Veidt is when it’s already known that he’s the villain (if such a term can be implemented, but I believe that, unfortunately, in the movie it can). In the comic, he is a much warmer and more fatherly character. He is psychologically interesting before we find out he plans to destroy half of New York City in the name of global unification. The morality of the character is well-depicted, although too much of his Alexander the Great-worship is glossed over. However, overall, it seems likely that far more people will leave the theater pondering if Veidt’s actions were justified morally than if Rorschach’s were. But it’s still a shame that moviegoers won’t fully appreciate the character. In the movie, he is an evil character whose actions may or may not be heroic. In the comic, he is a good guy who may or may not be misguided in his ultimate venture to save humanity. Snyder does nothing to fix the problem with his failure to portray Veidt’s remorse for his actions, particularly in the comic when he asks Dr. Manhattan if he did the right thing, only to grow frightened when Manhattan gives a vague non-answer.

While nailing Rorschach, Dr. Manhattan, and The Comedian is more than commendable, without proper characterization of Veidt, the film loses the foundation for the central moral question it poses. This doesn’t create huge problems for the movie itself, but for those who have read the comic, it is hugely disappointing how he comes across in the film. And for those of you who haven’t read the comic, know that you could have had it so much better with that character had Snyder done a better job (in directing and in casting).


But in the end, did Zack Snyder really succeed in filming the “unfilmable graphic novel”? As I asked before this review really began, is Watchmen-the-film as stunning a work of fiction as Watchmen-the-comic? Overall, I think it’s best to consider the comic and the film as separate creative visions. True, they more or less follow the exact same plot throughout, with the comic having a few extra storylines and a bit more information. But the film takes the story and turns it into a dark, epic adventure, whereas the comic uses it as an opportunity to deconstruct the superhero comic and also, you know, society in general. I think that each one is worth experiencing more than once, but in the end, the comic represents some of the best of not only the medium, but of fiction, whereas the film represents the best of the current box office. Snyder made the film into an adaptation surprisingly his own, but only because of his failures to properly adapt Moore. If only he had taken a few more liberties, a few more creative risks, I believe he might have emerged with something great. His film wouldn’t live in the shadow of the comic, and it wouldn’t be so important to note its inability to render what Moore was originally attempting with Watchmen.

But as it is, the film is in no way a substitute or an alternative for the denser, more meaningful, and far more laudable comic, and because of that I hope that people who saw the movie without reading the comic pick up Alan Moore and David Gibbon’s incredible work of fiction. I hope they buy it and read it more than once, because once is just not enough with such a meaty work of literature. The pleasures of slowly rereading each page, taking the time to observe how brilliantly illustrated it is, all the techniques David Gibbons employed with his art, the rhyming images, the visual motifs, should be a pleasure experienced by everyone who enjoyed the movie. And I hope they examine Moore’s writing closely, noticing how the excerpts of Tales of the Black Freighter sync up with the words spoken by the newsvendor so well, and how they reflect not just Veidt’s arc, but certain points in other characters’ stories as well.

I hope they do so because that is the only way to fully understand what an incredible story Watchmen really is. The movie that was made should only serve to enhance your reading of the comic, and it certainly has for me. I will never regret that it exists because it not only made me pick up the comic again, but it guided me in forming a fuller, more comprehensive appreciation of the text than I ever imagined having even a month ago. Luckily, there’s still plenty left for me to freshly observe in the comic, hopefully transforming my views of the work and allowing me to give an even fuller analysis as I read it throughout my life. And I hope the movie inspires you to read it throughout yours as well.



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