Alan Moore has famously said that "Watchmen," his 1986 Hugo Award-winning graphic novel, is unfilmable. For two decades Hollywood heeded his words, but wunderkind director Zack Snyder couldn't leave it alone.
Visually, Snyder nailed it. The special effects are great and the costumes, though much changed from those in the comics, are, for lack of a better word, nifty. Certain scenes are taken directly from the source material, but Snyder often relies too heavily on the comic for aesthetics while changing enough of the plot to enrage mega-fans.
The story follows a group of not-so-super heroes as it investigates the murder of one of its own members. Most of these costumed crime fighters are normal people who don masks and outlandish suits and exact vigilante justice on the criminals of New York City. Rorschach (played by Jackie Earle Haley), the central investigator in the case, is a sociopath with an ever-shifting mask. He works mainly with Night Owl II (Patrick Wilson), a spoiled, lonely rich kid with a trust fund, and Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman), a young woman trying to live up to the expectations of her mother, who happened to have been the original Silk Spectre. Along the way, they interact with other "heroes" such as the world's smartest man, Ozymandias (Matthew Goode), and the only true "super" hero, Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), a physicist who was given the ability to control matter, see through time, teleport, and turn blue after surviving a freak accident.
Because there are so many central characters to keep track of, the plot gets muddled during the film's 163-minute running time. By the end, the viewers may find themselves hard-pressed to care about the fate of any of the characters. As Dr. Manhattan says, "Nothing ever ends." With this line, Snyder set himself and his film up for a joke that won't be made here because it is just too easy.
Film length usually doesn't matter, but "Watchmen's" long running time isn't justified by the quality of its actors. Jackie Earle Haley gives an outstanding performance as the disturbed Rorschach, but everyone else either hams it up or is too stiff, like Wilson and Akerman, who engage in one of the most unnecessary, awkward sex scenes to ever grace the silver screen, set to Leonard Cohen's god-awful "Hallelujah."
This brings us to what is possibly this weak film's weakest part (which is saying a lot): its soundtrack. The film opens with a terrible-bordering-on-humorous opening montage set to Bob Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changing." Next, we're treated to a funeral set to "The Sound of Silence," a brooding scene set to "99 Luft Balloons," an "Apocalypse Now" (1979)-style Vietnam flashback with "Ride of the Valkyries," and a terrible use of "All Along the Watchtower." The choice of music and the musical cues are some of the worst in recent memory. When Nena's aforementioned tune kicks in, viewers are left to wonder if the songs were meant to be ironic, though the film's heavy-handed nature quickly crushes this notion.
There is no subtlety to speak of in "Watchmen." This is a movie that basks in graphic violence. In one short section, viewers are treated to a head split open with a butcher's cleaver, a man boiled with cooking oil and a pair of forearms separated from their owner's body by a buzz saw. One of the most disgusting, most repeated and, apparently, most crowd-pleasing (or Snyder-pleasing at the very least) images is that of Dr. Manhattan blowing people up. Blood and viscera fly everywhere, splattering entire rooms, snowy fields, particle generators and battlefields as the filmmakers giddily show us a true superpower. While visually impressive, it defines gratuitousness.
It would be easy to nitpick this film for not being exactly like the comic book; it is clear that Snyder completely missed the point or else was forced to produce something more mainstream and Cineplex-friendly than he would have liked. The truth of the matter, however, is that cinema and comics, or any other media form for that matter, are distinct entities that can't fairly be compared. It is the very nature of cinema to be different than printed materials. If we were judging based on the comics, the film would receive at most one star: super-fans need not apply. Judging it as a piece of filmmaking, however, we can deride it fairly.
In the end, "Watchmen" is not a good film. It does certain things right, but it seems overly concerned with being a shiny superhero film while at the same time aspiring to loftier things. Bad acting, terrible music and unnecessary length contribute to the film's failure. Snyder should be proud of himself, however, because he's finally managed to answer Moore's question, "Who watches the watchmen?" In a perfect world, the answer would be "No one."
Dear U2,
What's the deal?
Last night you played a secret show at the Somerville Theatre, right here in our backyard. And were we invited? No. Did we get tickets? No. Did you even call to let us know you were in town? You better believe you didn't.
We thought you were our buddy. We've been through so much together, and this is how you repay us? Ok, so we gave your new album two out of five stars, but it wasn't unfounded; if anything, you should be thanking us for keeping you grounded, although it may be too late for that. We don't want to be petty and ridicule your names like everyone else does because we'd like to think that we're bigger than that. But, apparently we're not as big as you, U2 -- too big to invite your old friends to your show. So here goes:
Bono? That's your name? That's just stupid. That's two syllables and no last name. Teller (of Penn and Teller) can get away with that nonsense because he's a magician. You're just an Irishman who sings. And your singing isn't even all that good lately. You hear that new album you guys did? We did. Two stars.
And don't think you've gotten off that easy, The Edge. Unless your father is Straight Edge and your mother is Jagged Edge (née Little-Pill), your name is crap. 'The Edge' is not a name. It is a place, a physical location on which one can be hurt or off of which one can fall.
Speaking of falling off, that's what we're doing with the subject of names (because we don't know the names of the other members in your band) after this last comment: U2? More like U-BOO!
Shame on you, U2. If you indeed want to be the biggest band in the world like you claim to be, maybe you should start by taking care of the little people first. Thanks for nothing, jerks. Sincerely, The Daily Arts Department
