Watchmen reviews

[FilmFan720]

Finally caught up with this...I can't think of another director so completely misinterpreting his source material.

[Zahveed]

Snyder did up the violence in the film to an unnecessary level. The comic was graphically violent but he made it into a pretty cheap playing card.

[Mister Tee]

It will surprise no one to hear that I was unacquainted with the source material.

I thought the movie started off well -- not just the title montage, but the early sequences. The regrounding of historic events into new reality was an interesting premise, and some of the background stories had resonance. I could see why people have always thought of this as a work of some distinction.

But the longer it went on, the less I cared, for a number of reasons. First and foremost, the film failed to explore (except in the most perfunctory way) the elements of the set-up that had most interested me -- specifically, why a second generation of this group was formed and took over and how the originals and replacements felt about it (the "he raped me then I screwed him" thread was a pitifully weak, pointless element), and just how the characters felt about being used up (as Dr. Manhattan in Vietnam) and then cast aside. Instead, we got the story that eventually took over as the main subject, Veidt's idealistic/diabolical plot, and it was as silly/trivial as in the plot of the most mundane super-hero movie. On top iof that, the characters that ended up occupying the most screen-time -- Wilson, Akerman and whoever played Veidt -- were weakly portrayed and had truly goofy-loooking costumes. I found myself snickering at way too much of the movie. (Wilson/Akerman taking on the prison population was so campy I expected the Zap/Pow/Blam's of TV's Batman)

I'd agree with A.O. Scott below, that this movie is certainly a more accomplished work than 300 -- I thought that barely qualified as a movie. But Snyder shows no sense of pacing or building to climax -- every scene is played at about the same tempo, so, by the time the third hour rolled around, I was just worn out and waiting for the movie to be over. I also must ask: am I just being another version of my parents (who always complain about "the language" in films where I don't remember what they're referencing) if I say, does anyone truly enjoy that level of disgusting violence? Rohrshach chopping the pedophile, the guys' arms being hacked off in prison -- does that not make everyone turn away in revulsion the way it does me? I have no problem with violence I'm meant to see as horrifying or, in some cases, frigheningly liberating. But here I just felt I was watching an adolescent gross-out contest, blood division.

[The Original BJ]

I have barely anything to say about this movie. I agree with Sabin on the opening sequence -- it's pretty impressive both in the technical wow of its images and montage, as well as for the sheer amount of interesting ideas it cram packs into a few moments. It essentially sets the bar very high right away, preparing us for a movie that's a lot more compelling than the one we actually get. I can't say I found much of the film visually distinguished. Oh, it looks fine, but in a typical big-budget way, without any of the originality Nolan or Raimi (or Ang Lee, for that matter) brought to their superhero franchises. Politically, it's gobbledegook -- positive notices that have praised the film's ideas seem to mistake confusion for complexity, when it all seems so hum-drum simplistic and so very shallow.

But mostly, I just couldn't follow the damn thing. I haven't read Watchmen, but by the end of the movie, I couldn't tell you who any of these people were, what they were doing, and why, and I just didn't care.

Plus, I felt a lot of what I think Penelope felt during Dark Knight: the violence here is really pretty insipid, almost unrelentingly nasty. I'm all for fun entertainment, but, like 300, I didn't find anything enjoyable or entertaining about watching this thing.

[Franz Ferdinand]

I think I'm okay with the movie existing in the sense that its out there, will expose people to the graphic novel, etc. However, I can only repeat what has already been said here: given the source material, it is a horrible disappointment, especially when you think of what could have been done with it. The actors....the director....the potential was enormous; I distinctly remember people on this board thinking a good adaptation of "Watchmen" could have been the first legitimate comic book Oscar contender for major awards (this was of course before Dark Knight raised the stakes). Of course, this choppy, ultra-violent (for its own sake), completely-devoid-of-forward-motion adaptation will not come close to Academy Award glory or mainstream acceptance.

The casting choices were seen as possibly good: lesser-known actors that won't overshadow the source material. Then of course we see the movie and hunch our shoulders with disappointment. Patrick Wilson and Morgan I had no real problems with, they did their best. However, we have Akerman looking the part while being an utter void in latex (Razzies, here we come!); and Goode preening and scowling and completely missing the tone of Veidt in the novel (while also being obviously underweight). Oh, the potential if we had some real ACTORS who could, you know, be expressive and emotive in these parts rather than just faces!

My favorite sequence in the movie was the ten or so minutes dedicated to the lust of Nite Owl 2 and Silk Specter 2 - after a fumbling attempt at sex (cleverly reflected through Dreiberg's glasses) that was played for laughs rather than reflecting the failure Dreiberg felt in the novel, they go out and rescue some people from a burning building. During this sequence, Snyder utilizes three slo-mo shots of Silk Specter falling, running and jumping, then proceeds to film the most horrible, HORRIBLE sex scene, possibly in the history of cinema. Oh, and it was set to Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", perhaps the worst choice for a sex scene in the world. I was fully expecting Jeff Buckley's version which (while over-overplayed) would at least have set some tone of tenderness and need between the two, but Cohen's jazzy, croaky version was just wrong. I sat there cringing and wringing my hands in embarrassment for being a fan of Watchmen. I think part of the movie (and possibly all of its credibility) died on screen at that moment.

Oh, and "Ride of the Valkyries" as Manhattan was (graphically) disintegrating Vietcong soldiers. Boy, was that ever the wrong tone. It definitely got some laughs when it should have been terrifying. Nice try.

That said, there were some good things about the movie, namely Haley as Rorschach. The voiceover was a little much, but if Ledger could run away so thoroughly with the Oscar for the Joker, Haley's magnetic, empathetic, and much more layered performance should be just as much a front-runner. I guess he should have died around Christmas. Billy Crudup did a great vocal performance, he sounded exactly how I thought Dr. Manhattan should sound, though the dangling blue penis was obviously a huge distraction to many people in the audience. I had no problems with the opening credits, but nothing near the "masterful work" many people are calling it. A work as dense and subversive as the original graphic novel calls for either a complete overhaul (ex. what you would expect a "visionary" director like Snyder to do, find the movie components and craft an adaptation that is its own entity), or slavish devotion (like a six or eight part HBO miniseries that would have done it full justice). Snyder is clearly caught in between, and kudos to him for not fucking it up completely. I will reserve full judgment for the full Director's Cut on DVD, but right now it can only stand as a disappointment.

**1/2 / *****



Edited By Franz Ferdinand on 1236478269

[MovieWes]

I'm on the fence. I think it was a solid three star film, but that was what disappointed me because I think it should've been a four star film. There were flashes of brilliance, but it never lasts for an extended period of time. The opening credits sequence was great and the origin of Doctor Manhattan is simply brilliant filmmaking. Everything else is just okay.

I don't really have time to go into much detail since I'm at work (and I don't have the Internet set up at my house right now), but it's basically a scene-for-scene rendition of the graphic novel, but without the substance. The acting is terribly uneven, as it ranges from excellent (Haley, Crudup) to good (Wilson, Morgan) to fair (Goode, Gugino) to terrible (Akerman). It's interesting to wonder how it would've turned out with different actors (like, say, Kate Winslet as Laurie Jupiter or Robert Redford as Ozymandias or Mickey Rourke as The Comedian), but I guess this kind of speculation is futile.

Bottom line: good, but nothing special which, given the source material, is a huge disappointment. It could've been so much more.



Edited By MovieWes on 1236448569

[Zahveed]

I've read the graphic novel. Structurally, this film is basically the graphic novel with only a few aesthetic and digestible choices that don't change the meaning behind the film. There are a few subplots and Easter eggs that elaborate on these themes also left out due to time constraints. This doesn't hurt the film necessarily, but creates its own entity.

I still found The Comedian to be the disgusting parody of mid 20th century American culture his name alter-ego suggests. I still found Dr. Manhattan to be the out-of-touch demigod terrifying in not his presence, but the idea that such a being exists with such limited feeling towards life and knowing that if something happens in the "future" it has already happened in the "present". That is the truly horrifying aspect of his character. Even more gruesome is Rorschach, another character that transcends into something ugly due to a life-changing experience, and he is portrayed excellently. His voice-over could have been toned down a bit though.

For the most part, the acting was good (mainly Crudup, Haley, and Morgon) but some lines were stiff (*cough* Akerman). I found the sound effects to be just as good as most of the visual effects were. I say most because a few of the scenes involving blood and broken limbs looked a bit hokey. I didn't mind the soundtrack myself. Some song choices were quite good and fit their respective scenes well. (Sabin, "Ride of the Valkyries" is what's played during the Vietnam scene.)

This film's main strong point is its source material and that's not a bad thing. Thumbs up.

[Sabin]

The opening scene and titles sequence are completely amazing. The latter is so unlike anything I've seen in pop entertainment that I'm not even sure if I'm comfortable saying that it is good. By the end, I wanted to talk about what I had seen and the political ramifications of it for an hour. By the end, I needed a drink.

Beyond anything else, Watchmen is the difference between mind-fucking and skull-fucking. Either way you get off, but how good do you feel about it afterwards. Alan Moore's Watchmen invented an entire universe and peeled back the gloss of a mythos that had found itself irrelevant, unwanted, and disbanded. The point of Watchmen is that Nite Owl II (not even the first, but the second) is fat, retired, wayward. Silk Specter II (again) was forced into this because of her mother's issues. Most troubling, The Comedian is a maniac who finds this line of work befitting his sociology. Dr. Manhattan is Superman is Jesus is indifferent to our lives and our deaths. Zach Snyder gets Nite Owl II and Silk Specter very right (his impotence outside of costume survives) even if their sex scene is the MOST HORRIBLE SEX SCENE I HAVE SEEN IN MY LIFE, but the latter two are responsible for the fundamental botching of Watchmen and why it essentially reveals Zach Snyder as the preeminent remixer of our time, Quentin Tarantino without a shred of interest in human foible. To wit:

Richard Nixon sends Dr. Manhattan to Vietnam to stop the war. He does so in a weak, laying waste to the Vietcong. Peace with honor and victory. The sight of this enormous glowing blue dude blowing up Vietcong freedom fighters in the comic was horrifying, tantamount to Superman or Jesus Christ sullying his hands with cold-blooded war and murder. In Watchmen: The Movie, it's bad ass. I'm embarrassed to say that I forget the song that plays but needless to say the soundtrack to Watchmen is the work of somebody who has heard 40 songs in his life. Worst Soundtrack Of Our Time. The scene is a loving recreation of Apocalypse Now forgoing any understanding as to what the sight of somebody surfing amidst the Vietnam War really means and why thinking that it is cool is appreciating the horrible juxtaposition between the leisurely and the inhumane.

It's "Cool". Zach Snyder makes us cheer for The Comedian, turns him into an awesome anti-hero and undercuts how horrifying everything he does really is. We're meant to clap and laugh along with him and Snyder has not the capacity for dark jokes. What exactly Zach Snyder "does" in this film is the product of someone who doesn't entirely understand his technique. He knows how to ramp, how to use song, but all for the wrong purposes. The material in Watchmen is subversive. The execution is as audacious as the soundtrack. Any dissection of this film is essentially observation, though I can't wait to hear what some of you on this board think, those who have not read the book. Because I am familiar with it, I will say: 1) this is the book, 2) this is NOT what Alan Moore wanted, 3) there's much I would like to recommend, and 4) and I would if it wasn't so laughable, boring, and irrelevant when it wasn't being kinda cool...

...but because when it is being cool, it's really being "cool", thumbs down.

[MovieWes]

For a Cold War, a Blue Superhero (and Friends)

by A. O. SCOTT
Published: March 6, 2009

The only character in “Watchmen” who possesses actual superpowers — resulting from an accident at a top-secret government research lab in the late 1950s — is Dr. Manhattan, a blue, bald, naked dude with blank eyes and the voice of Billy Crudup. Dr. Manhattan’s existence is busy and fairly melancholy, but I do envy him his ability to perceive every moment of past and future time as a part of a continuous present.

If I had that power, the 2 hours 40 minutes of Zack Snyder’s grim and grisly excursion into comic-book mythology might not have felt quite so interminable. (“It will never end,” says Dr. Manhattan. “Nothing ever ends.” No indeed.) Also, an enhanced temporal perspective would make it possible to watch “Watchmen” not in 2009 but back in 1985, when the story takes place, and when the movie might have made at least a little more sense.



The original graphic novel, by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons, was published by DC in 1986 and ’87, first serially and then in a single volume, and it quickly gained a following in discriminating geek circles. The book was very much a product of its moment, both in the history of comics — which were scouting new horizons of complexity and thematic ambition — and in the wider world that “Watchmen” mirrored.



Mr. Moore and Mr. Gibbons confected a dour alternative chronology of cold-war America, defined by victory in Vietnam, an endless Nixon presidency, nuclear brinkmanship and pervasive social rot. At the same time, they offered a self-conscious critique of the national preoccupation with muscled, masked crime-fighters. Their heroes — the paranoid Rorschach, the shy Nite Owl II, the coldly post-human Dr. Manhattan and various other colleagues and rivals — were violent, ambivalent, treacherous and vain, even though they also seemed to be uniquely capable of saving the world from ultimate catastrophe.



Somewhat remarkably, Mr. Snyder’s film freezes its frame of reference in the 1980s, preserving the dank, downcast, revanchist spirit of the original and adding a few period-specific grace notes of its own, including time-capsule references to Lee Iacocca and “The McLaughlin Group.” There is also a nod of homage in the direction of “Apocalypse Now” and a soundtrack heavy with the baby-boomer anthems that still echoed in the ears of Reagan-era adolescents.



Indeed, the ideal viewer — or reviewer, as the case may be — of the “Watchmen” movie would probably be a mid-’80s college sophomore with a smattering of Nietzsche, an extensive record collection and a comic-book nerd for a roommate. The film’s carefully preserved themes of apocalypse and decay might have proved powerfully unsettling to that anxious undergraduate sitting in his dorm room, listening to “99 Luftballons” and waiting for the world to end or the Berlin Wall to come down.



He would also no doubt have been stirred by the costumes of the female superheroes — Carla Gugino and Malin Akerman, both gamely giving solid performances — who sensibly accessorize their shoulder-padded spandex leotards with garter belts and high-heeled boots. And the dense involution of the narrative might have seemed exhilarating rather than exhausting.



I’m not sure that this hypothetical young man — not to be confused with the middle-aged, 21st-century moviegoer he most likely grew into, whose old copy of “Watchmen” lies in a box somewhere alongside a dog-eared Penguin Classics edition of “Thus Spake Zarathustra” — would necessarily say that Mr. Snyder’s “Watchmen” is a good movie. I wouldn’t, though it is certainly better than the same director’s “300.” But it’s possible to imagine that our imaginary student would at least have found some food for thought in Mr. Snyder’s grandiose, meticulously art-directed vision of blood, cruelty and metaphysical dread. As it is, the film is more curiosity than provocation, an artifact of a faded world brought to zombie half-life by the cinematic technology of the present.



The title sequence — in which Mr. Moore’s name, at his insistence, does not appear, leaving Mr. Gibbons listed, somewhat absurdly, as a solitary “co-creator” of the graphic novel — seems to acknowledge the project’s anachronistic, nostalgic orientation. As Bob Dylan sings “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” familiar images from the past are altered in ways both subtle and outrageous. Tableaus evoking Andy Warhol, the Zapruder film, Studio 54 and Weegee-style crime scenes commingle with snapshots from the lives of several generations of costumed crusaders. There is a witty pop sensibility evident in these pictures that gets the movie off to a promising start, even though such breeziness works to undermine the ambient gloom of the source material.



That mood returns in full force, though, as Mr. Snyder and the screenwriters, David Hayter and Alex Tse, demonstrate remarkable, at times almost demented, fidelity to the original. Mr. Moore — whose work has been poorly served by movies like “V for Vendetta,” “From Hell” and “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen” — has declared that “Watchmen” is impossible to film. Perhaps he meant to say redundant, since there are times that the filmmakers seem to have used his book less as an inspiration than as a storyboard. The inevitable omission of some stuff — a pirate-themed comic-within-the-comic; a mysterious gathering of artists and writers; a giant squid — may rankle die-hard cultists, but the tone of world-weary, self-justifying rage has been faithfully preserved, which may be a problem for everyone else.



“Watchmen” begins with the gory, glass-shattering murder of the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), a thuggish soldier of fortune who once helped Dr. Manhattan subdue the Vietcong. This killing sets in motion a series of flashbacks, digressions and long, expository conversations that take us from the grunge of New York City to Antarctica by way of Mars and that reveal a web of complicated relationships among more than a half-dozen major characters.



It turns out that the Comedian, also known as Edward Blake, once tried to rape Silk Spectre (Ms. Gugino), whose daughter, Laurie (Ms. Akerman), a second-generation superhero, lives with Dr. Manhattan and drifts toward an affair with Nite Owl II (Patrick Wilson). Or rather, with Dan Dreiberg, Nite Owl’s nebbishy alter ego, since an act of Congress has outlawed costumed vigilantism. The suave, calculating Ozymandias (Matthew Goode) has managed to find wealth and power in retirement. But no law can deter Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley), whose notebook entries serve as voice-over narration and whose clammy, misanthropic worldview dominates the story.



Speaking of acts of congress, “Watchmen” features this year’s hands-down winner of the bad movie sex award, superhero division: a moment of bliss that takes place on board Nite Owl’s nifty little airship, accompanied by Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” (By the way, can we please have a moratorium on the use of this song in movies? Yes, I too have heard there was a secret chord that David played, and blah blah blah, but I don’t want to hear it again. Do you?)



The sex may be laughable, but the violence is another matter. The infliction of pain is rendered in intimate and precise aural and visual detail, from the noise of cracking bones and the gushers of blood and saliva to the splattery deconstruction of entire bodies. But brutality is not merely part of Mr. Snyder’s repertory of effects; it is more like a cause, a principle, an ideology. And his commitment to violence brings into relief the shallow nihilism that has always lurked beneath the intellectual pretensions of “Watchmen.” The only action that makes sense in this world — the only sure basis for ethics or politics, the only expression of love or loyalty or conviction — is killing. And the dramatic conflict revealed, at long last, in the film’s climactic arguments is between a wholesale, idealistic approach to mass death and one that is more cynical and individualistic.



This idea is sickening but also, finally, unpersuasive, because it is rooted in a view of human behavior that is fundamentally immature, self-pitying and sentimental. Perhaps there is some pleasure to be found in regressing into this belligerent, adolescent state of mind. But maybe it’s better to grow up.



“Watchmen” is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian). It has extreme violence, a naked blue man and some superhero sex.



WATCHMEN



Opens on Friday nationwide.



Directed by Zack Snyder; written by David Hayter and Alex Tse, based on the graphic novel illustrated by Dave Gibbons; director of photography, Larry Fong; edited by William Hoy; music by Tyler Bates; production designer, Alex McDowell; visual effects supervisor, John DesJardin; produced by Lawrence Gordon, Lloyd Levin and Deborah Snyder; released by Warner Brothers Pictures and Paramount Pictures. Running time: 2 hours 40 minutes.



WITH: Malin Akerman (Laurie Jupiter/Silk Spectre II), Billy Crudup (Jon Osterman/Dr. Manhattan), Matthew Goode (Adrian Veidt/Ozymandias), Carla Gugino (Sally Jupiter/Silk Spectre), Jackie Earle Haley (Walter Kovacs/Rorschach), Jeffrey Dean Morgan (Edward Blake/the Comedian) and Patrick Wilson (Dan Dreiberg/Nite Owl II).



Edited By MovieWes on 1236368946

[Zahveed]

I'll sit the fence. I thought the music and some of the effects in the trailer were neat, but there was a hollowness, lack of depth in the trailer for me.

Yeah, but the effects were only good thing in the trailer. I hated the music.. :/
And everything seemed hollow, i agree.

I still think the use of Smashing Pumpkins in the trailer was a stroke of genius, a decade-old song (from another comic book movie adaptation) whose lyrics fit the images perfectly. It was a wonderful trailer, one of the most memorable and perfectly edited in recent times.

Agreed, partly due to my love of the Pumpkins.

[Franz Ferdinand]

I'll sit the fence. I thought the music and some of the effects in the trailer were neat, but there was a hollowness, lack of depth in the trailer for me.

Yeah, but the effects were only good thing in the trailer. I hated the music.. :/
And everything seemed hollow, i agree.

I still think the use of Smashing Pumpkins in the trailer was a stroke of genius, a decade-old song (from another comic book movie adaptation) whose lyrics fit the images perfectly. It was a wonderful trailer, one of the most memorable and perfectly edited in recent times.

[MovieWes]

Watchmen

Starring: Malin Akerman, Billy Crudup, Matthew Goode, Carla Gugino, Jackie Earle Haley

Directed by: Zack Snyder

** 1/2

2009 Warner Bros. Pictures Action

By Peter Travers

Listen up, "Watchmen" virgins. I don't care if you know squat about the orgasmically received 1987 graphic novel written by Alan Moore and illustrated by Dave Gibbons: It's time to bust your cherry. With its alternate universe of vigilante superheroes and power-crazed U.S. politicians heading for nuclear disaster, Watchmen took comic books to the next level as literature. The film, directed by 300 wild man Zack Snyder, arrives after years of false starts from the creative likes of Brazil's Terry Gilliam, Bourne's Paul Greengrass and The Wrestler's Darren Aronofsky. Even if you don't see Snyder's version, which has its problems, it won't kill you to peek at the comic book that Lost co-creator Damon Lindelof called "the greatest piece of popular fiction ever produced."

As for you Watchmen junkies, enough with tearing down the movie before you even see it. Moore, soured by the Hollywood mangling of From Hell, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and V for Vendetta, has removed his good name from the credits. In the process, he has inadvertently inspired a band of rabid loyalists ready to shoot Snyder on sight. Sheesh. Whether the movie soars or tanks, it won't make the comic book extinct. Get a grip.

Caught between the rock of fanboy adulation and the hard place of newbie indifference, the R-rated, nearly-three-hour movie version of Watchmen is a cinematic piñata getting whacked from every side. One look at mutant physicist Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), standing 200 feet, glowing with blue light and flashing a few yards of giant blue wiener, and you'll think you're in for the colossus of campfests. Or glom onto Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley), the vigilante in a white mask who shows a face of ever-changing ink blots, and you'll think a popcorn night at the movies has morphed into a Rorschach test administered by a lethally sadistic shrink.

What's the truth? A little of both, I'm afraid. Moore recalled his four years of toil on the 12-issue DC Comics series as "slam-dancing with a bunch of rhinos." That description also fits watching the movie, which stumbles and sometimes falls on its top-heavy ambitions. But there are also flashes of visual brilliance and performances, especially from Haley and Crudup, that drill deep into the novel's haunted soul.

Snyder, a director of TV ads (yikes!) who made his feature debut with a rockin' 2004 remake of Dawn of the Dead, took an ass-kicking from comic purists for getting too computer-flashy with his 2007 smash, 300, from Frank Miller's graphic novel about the 480 B.C. Battle of Thermopylae. Snyder goes easier on the computer this time and strains to stay faithful to what's on the page. He and screenwriters David Hayter and Alex Tse admirably resist updating to the here-and-now War on Terror. As the story moves from New York to Mars, the time is still 1985, Cold War tensions simmer, and Nixon — in his fifth term as president — hovers over a Doomsday Clock that ticks ever closer to atomic midnight. Snyder sums it up in a yowsa opening that merges Vietnam, moonwalks, you name it, into a visionary time capsule.

Plot point coming: Since 1977, masked heroes have been banned from doing their thing. Except for Dr. Manhattan, rendered übermensch in a lab accident, they have no superpowers, just a jones to fight in drag. The feds have drafted Dr. Manhattan to take on the Soviets, but the rest of the Watchmen have been outlawed. Think The Incredibles without Pixar or pity.

Second plot point coming: The Comedian, a.k.a. Edward Blake, played by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, has been tossed from a window of his high-rise. "Somebody knows why," writes Rorschach, a.k.a. Walter Kovacs, in his journal. He thinks it's the start of a conspiracy to kill the "Masks," as the crime fighters were called. So he starts rooting out the second generation to fight back. He begins with Nite Owl II (Patrick Wilson), a.k.a. Dan Dreiberg, who's gone to pudge since putting away his Batman-like costume. Wilson (Angels in America) gained a few pounds but otherwise suggests nothing less than an Adonis in a role that cried out for, say, Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Nonetheless, humdrum Dan is roused to action. He's all limp-dick with Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman), a.k.a. Laurie Jupiter, until cracking heads makes him rock-hard. Laurie had been getting it on with Dr. Manhattan, a.k.a. Jon Osterman, but his interests had turned to physics and Mars despite his giant blue penis. What's a girl to do, especially one with a mom (Carla Gugino, perfecto!), the original Silk Spectre, who may have been raped by the Comedian? For Laurie, it's out with the Doc and in with the hottie spandex (hello, Killer Barbie), just the thingie to put new hoot into Nite Owl II.

The junior versions of Nite Owl and Silk Spectre are the weakest and silliest part of the movie. Akerman, trying to channel Cameron Diaz, lacks the juice to do justice even to Charlie's Angels. The fights with this un-dynamic duo, sporting powers they're not supposed to have, are shockingly subpar. These doodles are helpless against Ozymandias (Matthew Goode), a.k.a. Adrian Veidt, a mad genius who made a killing selling masked action figures to the gullible public.

No wonder the film loses its power and point. Luckily, Crudup (Almost Famous) has the acting chops to take us inside the moral battles raging in Dr. Manhattan's blue skull. And Haley, a revelation in Little Children, penetrates the heart of Watchmen's darkness. His origin story, involving child abuse and butchery, dovetails into a revenge drama that pulsates with the emotional intensity and artery-spurting violence that indelibly marked the graphic novel.

At its best, Snyder's movie gets at the symbolism of that smile button splashed with blood on the first Watchmen cover. Viewers who worry about the Giant Squid, the Black Freighter and other Watchmen elements missing from the movie are missing the point. Even in the time of a popular new leader, Watchmen tells us to be on guard about our alleged protectors. Moore worried about winding up with "a big, messy, steaming bowl of semiotic spaghetti." OK, Snyder should have worried more. But there are worse things than a movie that bites off more than it can chew. Look at the drool coagulating at the multiplex. And if you have to go back to the comic to learn that the freaks in Watchmen are not only for geeks, maybe that's not so bad. Just sayin'.



Edited By MovieWes on 1236290839

[MovieWes]

And here's Ebert's obligatory four-star review...

Watchmen (R ) ****

/ / / March 4, 2009

by Roger Ebert


After the revelation of “The Dark Knight,” here is “Watchmen,” another bold exercise in the liberation of the superhero movie. It’s a compelling visceral film — sound, images and characters combined into a decidedly odd visual experience that evokes the feel of a graphic novel. It seems charged from within by its power as a fable; we sense it’s not interested in a plot so much as with the dilemma of functioning in a world losing hope.

That world is America in 1985, with Richard Nixon in the White House and many other strange details, although this America occupies a parallel universe in which superheroes and masked warriors operate. The film confronts a paradox that was always there in comic books: The heroes are only human. They can be in only one place at a time (with a possible exception to be noted later). Although a superhero is able to handle one dangerous situation, the world has countless dangerous situations, and the super resources are stretched too thin. Faced with law enforcement anarchy, Nixon has outlawed superhero activity, quite possibly a reasonable action. Now the murder of the enigmatic vigilante the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) has brought the Watchmen together again. Who might be the next to die?

Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), the only one with superpowers in the literal sense, lives outside ordinary time and space, the forces of the universe seeming to coil beneath his skin. Ozymandias (Matthew Goode) is the world’s smartest man. The Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson) is a man isolated from life by his mastery of technology. Rorshach (Jackie Earl Haley) is a man who finds meaning in patterns that may only exist in his mind. And Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman) lives with one of the most familiar human challenges, living up to her parents, in this case the original Silk Spectre (Carla Gugino). Dr. Manhattan is both her lover and a distant father figure living in a world of his own.

These characters are garbed in traditional comic book wardrobes — capes, boots, gloves, belts, masks, props, anything to make them one of a kind. Rorshach’s cloth mask, with its endlessly shifting inkblots, is one of the most intriguing superhero masks ever, always in constant motion, like a mood ring of the id. Dr. Manhattan is contained in a towering, muscular, naked blue body; he was affected by one of those obligatory secret experiments gone wild. Never mind the details; what matters is that he possibly exists at a quantum level, at which particles seem exempt from the usual limitations of space and time. If it seems unlikely that quantum materials could assemble into a tangible physical body, not to worry. Everything is made of quantum particles, after all. There’s a lot we don’t know about them, including how they constitute Dr. Manhattan, so the movie is vague about his precise reality. I was going to say Silk Spectre II has no complaints, but actually she does.

The mystery of the Comedian’s death seems associated with a plot to destroy the world. The first step in the plot may be to annihilate the Watchmen, who are All That Stand Between, etc. It is hard to see how anyone would benefit from the utter destruction of the planet, but remember that in 1985 there was a nuclear standoff between the United States and the Soviet Union that threatened exactly that. Remember “Better Dead Than Red”? There were indeed cold warriors who preferred to be dead rather than red, reminding me of David Merrick’s statement, “It’s not enough for me to win. My enemies must lose.”

In a cosmic sense it doesn’t really matter who pushed the Comedian through the window. In a cosmic sense, nothing really matters, but best not meditate on that too much. The Watchmen and their special gifts are all the better able to see how powerless they really are, and although all but Dr. Manhattan are human and back the home team, their powers are not limitless. Dr. Manhattan, existing outside time and space, is understandably remote from the fate of our tiny planet, although perhaps he still harbors some old emotions.

Those kinds of quandaries engage all the Watchmen, and are presented in a film experience of often fearsome beauty. It might seem improbable to take seriously a naked blue man, complete with discreet genitalia, but Billy Crudup brings a solemn detachment to Dr. Manhattan that is curiously affecting. Does he remember how it felt to be human? No, but hum a few bars. ... Crudup does the voice and the body language, which is transformed by software into a figure of considerable presence.

“Watchmen” focuses on the contradiction shared by most superheroes: They cannot live ordinary lives but are fated to help mankind. That they do this with trademarked names and appliances goes back to their origins in Greece, where Zeus had his thunderbolts, Hades his three-headed dog, and Hermes his winged feet. Could Zeus run fast? Did Hermes have a dog? No.

That level of symbolism is coiling away beneath all superheroes. What appeals with Batman is his humanity; despite his skills, he is not supernormal. “Watchmen” brings surprising conviction to these characters as flawed and minor gods, with Dr. Manhattan possessing access to godhead on a plane that detaches him from our daily concerns — indeed, from days themselves. In the film’s most spectacular scene, he is exiled to Mars, and in utter isolation reimagines himself as a human, and conjures (or discovers? I’m not sure) an incredible city seemingly made of crystal and mathematical concepts. This is his equivalent to 40 days in the desert, and he returns as a savior.

The film is rich enough to be seen more than once. I plan to see it again, this time on IMAX, and will have more to say about it. I’m not sure I understood all the nuances and implications, but I am sure I had a powerful experience. It’s not as entertaining as “The Dark Knight,” but like the “Matrix” films, LOTR and “The Dark Knight,” it’s going to inspire fevered analysis. I don’t want to see it twice for that reason, however, but mostly just to have the experience again.



Edited By MovieWes on 1236290597

[dreaMaker]

I'll sit the fence. I thought the music and some of the effects in the trailer were neat, but there was a hollowness, lack of depth in the trailer for me.

Yeah, but the effects were only good thing in the trailer. I hated the music.. :/
And everything seemed hollow, i agree.

[dws1982]

Armond White is negative, although in the end his problem seems to be more with the source material than the film itself:

All of Pop Culture Hangs in the Balance

Movie versions of The Great Gatsby and Beloved opened with fewer expectations than Watchmen. Maybe that’s because less was at stake in film versions of conventional literary classics. Now, with Hollywood’s adaptation of Alan Moore’s 1986 graphic novel, the future of pop culture hangs in the balance: Post-literary hipster culture meets post-cinematic movie culture to see who will dominate. This battle takes place on the $150 million big-screen game board of Presiding General Zack Snyder, the action-movie wunderkind who showed undeniable aplomb in Dawn of the Dead and 300.

It’s up to Snyder to make movie sense of Moore’s innovation (the graphic novel from which contemporary graphic novel and comics sensibility derived). Snyder must create a drama where the concept of superheroes complements American pop and political history. The Watchmen—Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman), Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), Adrian Veidt (Nathan Goode), Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson) and Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley)—are mostly everyday superheroes who investigate the murder of one of their forebears (The Comedian played by Jeffrey Dean Morgan). Snyder presents them in a crisscrossing cinematic context, testing their credibility as vulnerable humans and imperfect superhumans.

Hit or flop, Watchmen is nothing less than a test of pop culture’s maturity and juvenilia. Staying true to the original source material, Snyder must either justify our belief/tolerance in superheroes as artful metaphors of human endeavor or succumb to exploiting our fealty to commercial product. Not a summer blockbuster, Watchmen appears at a low point of popular culture when TV shows are crap and incessant movie versions of comic books have all reduced cinematic potential to action-movie triteness—as in last year’s 1-2 sucker punches Iron Man and Speed Racer. Snyder, at least, has a true movie sense; he’s a real filmmaker as opposed to Jon Favreau whose dunglike Iron Man was celebrated by film critics desperate to seem hip while the Wachowski Brothers’ Speed Racer was just off the rails, both hyperbolic and asinine.

Snyder’s artistic challenge matches our own struggle for meaningful art. Feeling his way through both Watchmen’s labyrinthine narrative and Hollywood’s manipulation of the zeitgeist, Snyder seeks to express his personal geeky taste for sex and violence. Storytelling itself is not his strength. This film-noir-like mystery feels remote—like half-hearted retelling of an overly familiar joke. It’s a consequence of so many recent comic-book-movie adaptations deriving from the same stockpile of superheroes, evil-geniuses, gadgets and apocalyptic catastrophes. As Hollywood sinks lower into juvenilia, it dulls our sense of drama. Cinematic expectation gets reduced to a fan boy’s F/X appreciation.

But Watchmen traps Snyder in his own success. It’s often as dull as a David Fincher film, going through the Alan Moore legend/formula as dutifully as any old-time Biblical epic. During its nearly three-hour length, padded with overly slo-mo fight scenes, only a brief segment where Silk Spectre II and Nite Owl overcome their sexual dysfunction through performing Good Samaritan deeds, shows Snyder’s 300-style liveliness. Most of the film is a deadpan display of retro/topsy-turvy Nixon-era politics and pop culture (including the 1970s Smiley Face button and caricatures of TV pundits). Sequences timed to Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel and KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Boogie Man” mix with stylized period flashbacks of Watchmen’s ancestors that suggest 3-D color versions of Weegee photographs.

Despite Fincher-style extravagance, Snyder shows no distinctive vision. He’s defeated by the false sophistication of graphic novels. Among unsophisticated readers, Alan Moore’s melange of cultural history passes for postmodern analysis when it’s merely kitsch. And the script by David Hayter and Alex Tse keep it dull. Neither political satire nor camp, it fails the unique, fantasy mix of classicism and modernism that distinguished both 300 and Vin Diesel’s The Chronicles of Riddick. The looming colossus of Dr. Manhattan and Rorschach’s vengeful jailbreak sequence never mesh as a coherent vision; they look like two styles of genre filmmaking colliding. Here’s where Watchmen prognosticates pop’s dread future: The jumble of references, influences and icons bespeak a grab-bag cultural illiteracy disguised amidst the triviality.

Edited By dws1982 on 1236263002