|
Truth,
Justice, and Post-Modernism: Moore and Gibbons's Watchmen
by: Troy Brownfield
Note to the readers: During the sixth Team Concept
essay in our comics section, and at other points, I've referred
to a short paper I wrote on Watchmen in graduate school in
1996. Amazingly, I've had several requests for that work to
be posted online. I figured that might not be a bad idea.
It's about as academic a look at a comics topic as I've ever
taken, and I know of at least one person who is using some
of these essays as a springboard for other work. So I hope
you enjoy it, and forgive any grad school indulgences and
its brevity.
By its
very nature, Post-Modernism defies easy categorization. It
is often simpler to illustrate the concepts inherent in that
artistic and critical movement by pointing to a work of art
that we think typifies Post-Modern qualities. Some tenets
of this idea are quantifiable. Post-Modernism, as its name
suggests, is a step beyond the Modernist movement of the late-19th
and early-20th centuries. Modernists favored explorations
of nationalism, deep looks into myth, and ruminations on Man
and God and Nature. They sought answers, worked at unity,
and tried to define some universal absolutes. Post-Modernism,
if not the opposite of those principles, certainly seeks a
different playing field. The majority of questions in Post-Modern
art and criticism go unanswered; if there are answers, they
often lead to larger, more unsettling questions. Within this
frame of reference, the artist or critic doesn't just ruminate
of God, he or she questions its existence. There is often
practiced dissonance, a rejection of absolutes, and a lack
of traditional modes and methods. Combinations of or reflections
on other ideas and media are often present. Pastiche and irony
stand out. Post-Modernism, regardless of the artistic form
used to express it, is a challenge.
That is
what makes Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons's Watchmen so
extraordinary. Among the forms of art and entertainment widely
available in the world today, few are as maligned and saddled
with such ridiculous cultural baggage as comic books. Comic
books suffer the repeated indignity of being referred to as
"cartoons" (a word that signifies animated drawings only)
or "funnies" (a slang term for the comedic newspaper strips).
While it is true that comics were originally oriented strictly
for children and the situations were often patently childish,
the form has grown and matured at a staggering rate. Remarkably,
few people outside the realm of comic fandom seem to have
acknowledged this process.
Perhaps
that is what made the impact of Watchmen all the more
startling to the general public. Originally presented in the
form of a monthly, twelve-issue limited series by DC Comics
between 1986 and 1987, Watchmen takes on a variety
of adult themes and handles them in a mind-bogglingly artistic
manner. The series received reviews and accolades from sources
as diverse as Time, Newsweek, and Rolling Stone. Even more
astounding is the fact that Watchmen can be exemplified
as a wholly Post-Modern work. I will present the Post-Modern
traits of Watchmen in a careful examination of three
major areas: story, structure, and subtext. Not only is Watchmen
a shining indication of the presence of Post-Modernism in
popular art, it may be the greatest and most important comic
work ever.
Watchmen
takes place between October 12 and November 2, 1985, on an
Earth much like our own (Moore 1). However, many things are
obviously different. Due to the intervention of the super-powered
Dr. Manhattan, the United States triumphed in the Vietnam
War and the wildly popular Richard Nixon is still president
(45). Super-heroes have been outlawed due to the Keene Act
of 1977 (4). Electric cars are commonplace. Gang violence
is rising. And escalating tensions between the United States
and the Soviet Union are threatening to break out into a full-scale
nuclear war. These events serve as the background to the first
and propulsive incident in the story: the murder of Edward
Blake, a government-employed super-hero known as The Comedian.
When the psychotic hero Rorschach investigates, he finds what
may be the first thread of a foundation-shaking conspiracy.
As we
can see, the plot itself steps outside the expectations that
many people place upon a traditional "comic book." Political
elements are evident, social commentary is made, and the first
protagonist, Rorschach, is unbalanced and given to murdering
criminals. This is not the typical world the general public
associates with comics.
As the
plot unfolds, we learn all these things and more. Eventually,
Rorschach, the second Nite Owl, the second Silk Spectre, and
Dr. Manhattan converge on the mastermind behind the ongoing
conspiracy: their old ally, Ozymandias. Embodying the mad
king of Shelley's poem, Adrian Veidt's terrifying plan to
save the world by killing millions is revealed. However, with
a snide reference to the movie villains of the past, Ozymandias
does not reveal his master plan to the heroes until it is
too late. His plan works; Veidt/Ozymandias kills millions
in New York with a fake alien invasion, triggering world peace
and averting imminent nuclear war. The heroes realize that
by failing to save the six million people killed in New York,
they may have saved the world. Rorschach refuses to partake
of a vow of silence, and is killed by Dr. Manhattan to maintain
the secret. However, Rorschach's journal ends up at a news
magazine, where its contents, with the plan revealed, may
or may not be unleashed upon the world. Thus we are left to
wonder, what will happen?
Moore's
unwillingness to contribute either a pat or happy ending to
the piece is a fine, working example of the Post-Modern ethic.
The series raises many quandaries that Moore cannot answer
for us. The last panel makes us, as readers, uneasy, because
we know that life itself has no distinct lines.
With the
characters themselves, Moore also breaks expectations. Many
relevant social issues work their way into the series, embodied
by several of the heroes themselves. Moore works hard to strip
away the veneer of "heroism," digging at the core of people
and establishing the cast as less-than-perfect, very human,
and very believable. We discover that The Comedian, a hero
to the public for saving the Iran Hostages, raped the first
super-heroine called the Silk Spectre, and later fathered
her child, the second Silk Spectre. We see that Captain Metropolis
and Hooded Justice, two other heroes of the 1930s, were involved
in a homosexual relationship. Likewise, the heroine The Silhouette
is revealed to be a lesbian. Mothman is an alcoholic, and
the second Nite Owl struggles with bouts of insecurity and
impotence. Dr. Manhattan grows more distant from humanity
and more distracted as his power grows. Ozymandias develops
a Messianic complex due to his vast intelligence. And Rorschach,
in perhaps the most agonizing twist, is shown to have come
by his psychosis by growing up as an abused child and having
his mind shattered forever while investigating what turns
out to be the horrifying murder of a small child.
This careful
delineation of imperfections in each hero lets the reader
"see through" the heroic ideal that most comics, novels, or
films represent. As a culture, Americans tend to want heroes
that are larger-than-life and flawless. Watchmen breaks
with that conceit, and does the unexpected.
Another
interesting point concerning the characters is that the characters
themselves fit into that Post-Modern concept of self-referentialism.
Many of the characters in the Watchmen series are constructed
as interpretations of archetypes or as intentional reflections
of previously-created super-heroes. Let's evaluate the characters
as reflections of other super-heroes first.
The "Watchmen,"
interestingly enough, are all patterned after characters created
by the now-defunct Charlton Comics. DC Comics acquired the
rights to all of Charlton's characters in 1983 and integrated
those characters into their "universe." Alan Moore's original
story proposal for Watchmen actually called for the
use of these characters, with the opening storyline built
around the death of Peacemaker. However, DC wanted the characters
from Charlton used in other contexts, and suggested that Moore
keep the story but use "tribute" characters in their stead.
Therefore, the savage Peacemaker became the savage Comedian.
The "Bug-Ship"-driving, technology-wielding Blue Beetle was
converted into Nite Owl. Mini-skirted, athletic Nightshade
became Silk Spectre. Atomic-powered Captain Atom became Dr.
Manhattan. And faceless, violent adventurer The Question became
Rorschach.
With the
1930s heroes The Minutemen, Moore took a slightly different
angle. He seems to have patterned those characters after DC's
own 1930s/40s heroes, the Justice Society of America. Therefore,
we have these corollaries: Silhouette is descended from Black
Canary or Phantom Lady; Dollar Bill is taken from Mr. Terrific;
Hooded Justice comes from Dr.Fate or The Spectre; Captain
Metropolis is Captain Triumph; Mothman is Hawkman; and the
original Nite Owl, the original Silk Spectre, and the Comedian
follow their Charlton parallels.
Running
deeper than obvious homages to previous heroes are the concepts
of heroic and mythic archetypes. Most heroes and characters
in any story from any medium usually draw characteristics
from a vast cultural well of ideas. Certain things are present
in entertainment that make us have expectations as an audience.
While Watchmen does a fine job of deviating from the
"heroic perfection" expectation, it does present some familiar
and comfortable frames of reference for our heroes in the
forms of three distinct archetypes.
Dr. Manhattan
represents that god-like "Superman" character we have come
to expect from comic books. Superman and his ilk derive their
origins from the basic sources of myths, such as the ancient
Greek gods. It is interesting to note that Manhattan is the
only character who possesses super-powers, and this very fact
makes him very impressive. It is also easier to suspend disbelief
when only one character is capable of Herculean tasks.
On the
flip-side of the "Superman" archetype, we have what I call
the "Batman" archetype. This is a character with no super-enhancements
who survives by intelligence, natural physical strength, or
clever weapons. I see this character as being based on the
epic heroes of legend; although heroes like Theseus and Perseus
did heroic things, they were still mere mortals. The "Batman"
archetype also has a subcategory: the grim avenger. The grim
avenger is a hero who is driven by a larger purpose in his
or her quest for justice, and is not afraid to actually hurt,
or maybe kill, his or her enemies. Nite Owl certainly fits
the large "Batman" archetype, with his OwlShip, utility belt,
inventor's skills, detective's intuition, and independent
wealth. Ozymandias fulfills many of these qualities as well.
Rorschach and The Comedian fall more under the grim avenger
subsection, as each has a disregard of his enemies.
The character
of the Silk Spectre meets the third archetype, which I call
the "Modern Wonder Woman" archetype. Again, there are mythological
roots to these characters, as the writers and artists hoped
to invoke the warrior-wisdom of Athena with the allure of
Aphrodite in one super-heroic, feminine package. Sadly, an
overwhelming number of female characters got portrayed poorly
in old comics. Their costumes were far from functional, featuring
plunging necklines and heels, and they often needed a male
"sidekick" to rescue them. Even Wonder Woman, a character
created by a psychiatrist to give young girls a positive heroic
role model, fell victim to some of these cliches. During the
1970s, comic heroines began to be more independent and powerful.
Silk Spectre, with her cynical edge, excellent fighting skills,
and skepticism, places her in the modern category. However,
it is interesting to note that she wears a 1960s style female
hero costume, complete with (yes) a miniskirt and heels. Moore
seems to do this for a reason. Near the end of the series,
after Silk Spectre discovers that The Comedian was her father,
she contemplates a more realistic outfit, one "that protects
me: something leather, with a mask over my face . . . also,
maybe I oughtta carry a gun" (Moore 381).
Silk Spectre
realizes the confines presented to female super-heroes, and
she wants to divest herself of the feminine stereotype and
be taken as seriously by society as her male counterparts.
To me, this rejection of what is supposedly feminine is a
better portrayal and more realistic. By disregarding expectations,
she plays against society's structure.
Appropriately
enough, structure itself shines as a major component of the
Watchmen series. Upon a first reading, the meticulous
nature of the work's construction might elude the audience,
especially one unfamiliar with many of the hallmarks of comic
art. However, Watchmen contains many overt and subtle
breaks with convention, and even innovates new ones.
The first
thing that any prospective comic reader notices is the comic's
cover. Covers are often flashy and action-packed, with what
is called a "symbolic" scene. The "symbolic" scene represents
the theme of that particular issue. For example, if Spider-Man
is fighting Venom, the cover may show Spider-Man striking
Venom, even if that particular image never appears in the
issue. However, the covers Watchmen carried for each issue
broke new ground in what should have been an obvious way.
Each cover
was the first "panel" of that particular issue. The famous
first issue cover, with the bloody smiley face, opens to reveal
the same image as the first panel of the interior art. The
daring thing was that every cover featured either an inanimate
object or a background scene. No covers featured a character
(with the exception of the issue where the statue of the original
Nite Owl is featured). In a market where covers are considered
a vital selling tool (sales of X-Men are said to jump markedly
when Wolverine is featured on the cover), the lack of a person
on the cover was actually amazing. Also, knowing that the
cover would be the first panel, you get the sense that Moore
and Gibbons are easing into the story. No sudden immersion
or in medias res here. Everything is built carefully, showing
that the plot itself is the most important facet of the story.
Another
concept had never really been used before Watchmen
(to my recollection) is the idea of "gridding." In most comic
books, artists are given free reign for page design. They
will vary panel size and number per page, looking for at least
one wholly dramatic, larger "shot" on each page. This is often
very effective, as we can see small panels build to a sudden
crescendo with a large one. Also, there is the trick of building
up action on a "right-side" or "even-numbered" page and delivering
a huge, action-filled image on the left side when the page
is turned.
The truly
startling thing about the use of panels with Watchmen
is the actual rigidity of form. While the ideas may flow freely,
Moore set-up a nine-panel-to-a-page grid format for Gibbons
to draw. Of course there are some minor variations, as when
Gibbons uses two panels to show the whole OwlShip, but the
overwhelming effect is that each page almost always contains
nine panels.
This panel
arrangement serves many functions. It breaks up the pace,
allowing the story to unfold slowly. If the issue were all
huge pictures, then the reader would finish quickly. Moore
wants the reader to take his or her time, going slowly, looking
at each panel.
This couples
with the dialogue. Watchmen may be one of the most
furiously verbal projects in the history of the medium. There
are dozens of captions, at least one-hundred speaking characters,
text pages, and journal entries. In a regular comic, you can
get a sense of the action just by looking at the pictures.
Watchmen expects to be read; more to the point, it
demands close reading.
Also,
with nine panels on each page, it makes the pictures smaller.
With the smaller pictures, casual readers will only focus
on the main image presented in the foreground of each panel.
However, nearly every page presents some image or clue in
the background, from posters to shadows to dozens of other
concepts. Gibbon's art is amazingly detailed and meticulous
for smaller panels.
These
two artistic notions, the covers and the grid format, set
up for the reader the ultimate realization that Watchmen
will be different than any other comic-reading experience.
Right away, it destroys expectations, a true Post-Modern trait.
The specifics in the art are plentiful, and merit a closer
look here as well.
One of
the major noticeable elements of Dave Gibbon's art on the
Watchmen is his use of pictorial foreshadowing, flashbacks,
and recurring symbols. While these things may have been normal
and expected in novels and film, comics got short-changed
quite often. The regularly perceived notion of comic readers
to the general public, and even to most companies at the time,
showed that comic readers were young, adolescent boys. Actually,
more comic readers are over eighteen, and a surprisingly large
portion of the audience is comprised of women. While this
is common knowledge now, ten years ago it was not. Therefore,
not much of an effort to challenge the form was made. Most
stories were very straightforward. So, considering the context,
things such as the use of foreshadowing become Post-Modern
in terms of a medium where the ideas were not previously present.
When considering
foreshadowing, flashbacks, and symbols, it is easiest to start
by looking at the background art in the panels. Many times
throughout the story, the overt action is actually set up
to be a distraction from the crucial element in the background
of the scene. A huge number of these instances are fraught
with clever and wrenching irony. Moore and Gibbons leave small
clues to lead the reader into a place where he or she, having
witnessed all the tiny pieces, can understand the major plot
twists as they appear.
Foreshadowing
crops up regularly in small artistic tricks. The disaster
approaching in the twelfth and final issue is set up repeatedly
by any number of devices. One prevalent signifier is the movie
poster for the Utopia Theater. Readers may discern that the
Utopia specializes in 1950s science-fiction films from the
recurring posters shown. However, once the final plot has
been grasped, the movies make sense as leads. The main three
films illustrated on the posters throughout the story are
This Island Earth, Things to Come and The
Day the Earth Stood Still. With its veiny-headed alien,
This Island Earth parallels the invasion that Ozymandias
will fake, while Things to Come stands out a nod to
the phrase itself: there are big things coming in the narrative.
And The Day the Earth Stood Still is brought to eerie
prominence when, on the first few pages of the twelfth issue,
we see the montage of dead bodies strewn about the streets
of New York during a moment when the whole world pauses on
the brink of war to consider the (faked) alien threat. The
Utopia Theater is shown in a full-page image with the title
of the film in large, full view, smeared with blood and surrounded
by the dead. The scene has a nice, ironic ring as well.
Another
form of foreshadowing accompanies Ozymandias's plot as it
develops. Throughout the work, we are given various glimpses
of scientists and artists working on some project. No one
really knows what the point of the project is, and the scenes
actually seem intrusive, as if they are interrupting Rorschach's
quest to find the hero-killer. However, their importance is
revealed at the end as Ozymandias explains that his "alien"
was engineered by those very artists and scientists who we
have seen at various points. We are forced to re-examine what
has gone before, and are able to see a true complexity within
the plot.
Possibly
the most disturbing and confusing example of the dynamic use
of foreshadowing comes from the use of the Tales from the
Black Freighter subplot. We sporadically see a young boy
reading a pirate comic at a corner newsstand. The comic is
done in the style of the graphic EC Comics of the 1950s, with
much blood and a Gothic stance. The story follows a shipwrecked
man who is trying to reach home and peace but descends into
savagery, with one example being the raft he makes out the
dead bodies of his fellow crewmen. Honestly, upon my first
reading, this subplot made little sense. It seemed to be a
comment on the mythic journey of the hero, a theory espoused
by Joseph Campbell and one that would connect with ancient
Greek mythological roots of the super-hero concept. However,
we can come to understand that while it is representative
of a hero's journey, it is specifically representative of
Ozymandias. Trying to achieve peace, Ozymandias becomes the
killer of millions, including the young boy who perpetually
reads the pirate comic. Riding on the bodies of the dead,
Ozymandias completes his quest.
Even though
foreshadowing would appear to be immanently crucial, flashbacks
carry equal weight, often coloring in the past of each hero
and giving the audience a basis with which to understand them.
The major artistic hook in each flashback is that the flashback
begins fixed on an image in the present, then jumps back to
the same or a parallel image. For example, as Dr. Manhattan
attends The Comedian's funeral, he is struck by a memory of
their previous association in Vietnam. The segue element between
the two opening panels of the flashback is a bouquet of roses
that becomes a burst of fireworks over a decade in the past.
The flashback ends with Manhattan standing in the same pose
in the present that he stood in at the end of the memory in
the past. The artful, cinematic cuts make the story flow almost
seamlessly and seize upon the peculiar fact of how a human's
memory is excited by random symbols or associations.
The flashbacks
become vital to our overall grasp of the plot. Even though
its members don't play a very active role in the present action,
the 1940s heroic team The Minutemen have some experiences
that comment directly on the action. One particular example
is the rape of the first Silk Spectre by The Comedian in the
past. We see that the second Silk Spectre hates The Comedian
for assaulting her mother, and this, in turn, provides more
conflict when she realizes that he is indeed her father. In
fact, the chapter in which Silk Spectre makes that realization
is built upon a series of flashbacks, all leading into the
deduction of her father's identities. The clues were all there;
someone had to put them together. That seems to be an interior
comment on the nature of the overall plot as well. We may
be confused, but given time, we can figure out how everything
fits. And it does.
Even though
symbolism and irony stand out as pervasive elements in the
two previous discussions, they do deserve a closer look on
their own. Irony is often defined as a tenet of Post-Modernism,
and Watchmen is a bundle of ironic notions and images.
Also, symbolism in comics had never been used expansively
before this time, but Watchmen uses it expansively
and fluidly.
Perhaps
the greatest overall irony within the construction of the
narrative is the audience is left without a true ending. We
have followed our heroes and they have uncovered the plot
(though their failure ensures the world's survival, itself
a supreme irony). But we don't know what happens! Nite Owl
and Silk Spectre want to continue being heroes. Dr. Manhattan
leaves Earth. Ozymandias sits alone, contemplating. And Rorschach's
journal is left in the hands of a bumbling copy boy. After
following and fretting over the action, the lack of resolution
is almost painful.
Of course,
smaller levels of irony permeate the text in areas diverse
as humor to scenes in the background. Some of the names of
the characters themselves are ironic: the evil Big Figure
is a midget, for example, while The Comedian is a sick and
violent man. Even Rorschach's name is an example, as the name
of a psychiatrist and psychiatric test are applied to a hero
who is mentally disturbed, and better yet, one who only sees
things in "black and white."
Of particular
service to irony are the posters for The Utopia Theater after
the disaster and Ozymandias's perfume ads. Once New York has
been cleaned up, the Utopia reopens as The New Utopia. Its
first three films? Tarkov's The Seasons, Sacrifice,
and Nostalgia. Despite being a marked switch from the
paranoid science fiction films in the era of new peace, the
film titles again comment directly on the action. As for the
idea of nostalgia, Ozymandias's company also manufactures
a popular perfume called Nostalgia. The title is fitting,
as the story is filled with flashbacks and a longing for the
days when things in the world were simpler. After Ozymandias
succeeds in his plan and brings about world peace, he replaces
Nostalgia with Millennium. Now that everything is "fine,"
Ozymandias will allow people to look to the future.
Many of
the overt symbols in the work actually fit into the larger
elements of overall themes in Watchmen, of which I
wish to discuss four: the deconstruction of the hero, the
nuclear threat, sex, and the future. It is in the analysis
of these themes that I hope to remove any doubt that Watchmen
is a viable and worth Post-Modern work.
The primary
purpose that a work like Watchmen serves is as an examination
of the entire concept of heroism and, to a lesser degree,
comic books themselves. Moore seems to imply in the work that
the very notion of uniformed beings trying to keep order has
some creepy facist overtones. After all, weren't Hitler's
Nazis obsessed with uniforms? It is true that the element
of facism could be played up, based somewhat on Nietzche's
ideas of the "Super-man" and Hitler's fascination with a type
of master race. I, and I think Moore ultimately as well, prefer
to see super-heroes as a representation of what we as normal
people want in perfection and heroes. Moore's great trick
is that he shows even super-heroes aren't perfect, as they
are ultimately still human. Still, where did the idea of donning
an actual costume to battle evil really come from? Knights?
Who knows? The fact that no one does it in the "real" world
seems to deny its plausibility, but the way Moore de-powers
all of his protagonists shows that maybe costumed vigilantiism
is possible, even to a greater degree than groups like the
Guardian Angels.
It would
appear that Moore wants us to see that the heroic ideal is
flawed, and that comics may have lost something as large parts
of the world have turned sour. I agree with part of this assessment.
Moore's right that the traditional view of heroism is flawed,
and I think that the Simpson case in a perfect example of
this. However, for the most part, the ideals represented in
comic books are still, for the most part, good and true, despite
the fact that the world can be a generally miserable place.
By questioning the heroic tenets, Moore inspired writers and
artists to actually try harder and possibly contributed to
the comic book resurgence that occurred in the early 1990s.
Even if
Moore questions the place of imaginary heroes, another of
his central issues is mind-numbingly real. While our fears
over the nuclear threat have diminished over the years, one
must not forget that Watchmen is a work produced in
the middle of the 1980s. Nuclear war was a hot topic ten years
ago. Movies, novels, and the news dwelt on it incessantly.
It was only natural that this issue would filter into Moore's
saga of a world gone wrong.
A great
irony within the conclusion of the work is the fact that it
takes a slaughter to stop an even greater one. I tend to think
that the only thing that prevented a World War in the previous
decade was the fear of total destruction. The characters is
Watchmen are all, to some degree, afraid of what a
war would bring. The paranoia is extremely realistic and well-played.
It's fitting that this nuclear obsession is played up in a
Post-Modern work since many regard World War II, and its accompanying
atomic blasts, as the end of the Modernist period.
From utter
destruction to the beginning of life, Watchmen confronted
the actual issue of sex with a frankness that most mainstream
comics had never seen before. Most Americans would never realize
that a comic book could portray a realistic, adult, sexual
relationship, but Moore brings off the attraction and eventual
romance of Nite Owl and Silk Spectre tremendously. In all
actuality, the initial sexual encounter between the two, wherein
Nite Owl has a bout of impotence (to the hilarious commentary
of a gymnastic color commentator on the TV in the background),
is touchingly real and totally human. The question of what
a super-hero's lifestyle would do to his or her sex life is
one that had never been explored before and made perfect sense.
On the
darker side of sexual relations, the rape of the original
Silk Spectre broke taboos over dealing with particular subjects.
Despite the fact that the voices of women are still suppressed
in many quarters, the past decade did see an increase in public
willingness to discuss sexual harassment, date rape, and assault.
The portrayal of Sally Jupiter's rage, and later in life,
ambivalence, presents a wide-ranging emotional response to
an issue that no one but one who has experienced such an incident
can understand.
Also,
Watchmen was among the first series to deal in an honest
and even manner with the presence of homosexual heroes. Hooded
Justice and Captain Metropolis do not get portrayed as stereotypes.
In fact, Captain Metropolis is shown as a soldier and an organizer,
while Hooded Justice was actually the first among the costumed
heroes. Moore also seems to make a personal commentary by
having the lesbian heroine, Silhouette, make her first public
appearance by breaking up a child pornography ring. Despite
what homophobic people say, Moore is reminding us that there
is a difference between homosexuality and pedophilia.
Moore
asks about other sexual issues as well. The story questions
whether or not hero costumes are a kind of fetishism (a question
Moore seemingly answers when Nite Owl is able to perform sexually
again only after he and Silk Spectre resume their adventuring
careers). There is also a reference made to a super-villain
who attacked heroes only so they would "punish" him (Rorschach,
we are told, drops him down an elevator shaft).
Overall,
the fact that sex is dealt with that regularly in a comic
work of this period is fairly amazing. Now, it's much more
common. But in the Reagan 1980s, this approach to the topic
was a real breakthrough and certainly a step beyond expectations.
The final
and overwhelming theme and question regarding Watchmen
is the debate over whether or not anything really ever ends.
We are left at the final panel with a sense that Ozymandias's
carefully constructed world peace may be destroyed by the
whim of a rather doltish copy boy at the magazine. If that
were true, then it would make the sacrifices of Rorschach,
The Comedian, and several million New Yorkers worthless. If
the copy boy doesn't select the journal, then all we know
is that world peace was saved by an atrocity committed by
a man who is still free to scheme. Neither option is very
comforting.
Perhaps
a further extension of this question is this: why did the
story called Watchmen need to be told? A simple answer
would be that it's a good story. But the deeper answer is
that super-heroes and their ilk are ingrained in our popular
culture. As time moves along, we demand new heroes.
Heroes
that fit the times. Moore and Gibbons's work is very much
a product of its time. In the 1980s, conservatism reigned
and censorship became an everyday concern. Superman turned
fifty, and a re-examination was needed. By pushing the limits
of its form, Watchmen demonstrated that there was still
a lot of life left in a way of art that most people had written
off long ago as something that was purely for children.
Watchmen's
triumph is that it is a Post-Modern work in a medium where
artistic labels previously could not have been truly applied.
It is a work of literature, really. It's a multi-colored look
at an American Institution that invokes the techniques of
James Joyce and Orson Wells as much as it does the tradition
of Jack Kirby and Stan Lee.
It has
only been ten years since Watchmen [Editor's
Note: Almost 20 now!!], but it was a watershed event
in the comics media. By breaking into the spotlight, it made
prominent magazines like Time, Newsweek, and Rolling Stone
take another look at the genre. Other artists brought forth
adult-themed works, or else were able to re-release older
works for a more open public. Frank Miller's Batman: The
Dark Knight Returns benefited from and added to the public
glow and sparked the Batman films. Companies founded
imprints for adult comics. Regular super-hero comics actually
worked harder at elevating their stature and writing in the
wake of Watchmen. It's importance cannot be underestimated.
Comics
have always reflected the times, from stories of World War
II to heroes fighting "commies" up through the "grim" heroes
of today. Watchmen is truly a brilliant Post-Modern work,
and we live in uncertain Post-Modern times. Though it will
probably never happen, I would challenge institutions of learning
to make Watchmen available as an example of art, writing,
and clever cultural analysis. Nearly perfect in execution,
it is the best its form has to offer. Ironic, isn't it, that
a maligned movement combined with a maligned form to make
such a lauded work. The only question that remains whether
anyone will actually top it. And since the future is uncertain
in the Post-Modern world, I guess we'll just have to wait
and see.
Troy
Brownfield is the Editor-in-Chief of Shotgun Reviews. For
those who are wondering, he got an A on that Watchmen paper.
Email him at psikotyk@aol.com.
|
