Written by Alan Moore
Art by Dave Gibbons
Rorschach’s Journal - October 12th, 1985: Dog Carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach.
This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters, and the gutters are full of blood, and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists, and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout “Save us!” And I’ll look down, and whisper “no”.
Ok, let’s get one thing out of the way. The art isn’t the primary draw of Watchmen (at least, for me it isn’t). Dave Gibbons provides some straightforward panels, which demonstrate rugged & moody flourishes…but there’s something rather old fashioned and WWII-ish retro about his work that doesn’t strike a chord with me. I wasn’t a fan when I read his illustrated Doctor Who Maganize strips, and I’m not a fan here. He isn’t a patch on the dynamism of George Perez, or the photo-perfect regal compositions of Alex Ross.
But the legend of Watchmen very much lies with its story. Picture it: a 1980s alternate reality where the Cold War is raging near boiling point, and Richard Nixon rewrote the Constitution to keep getting elected. Costumed heroes are a thing of the past, thanks to registration laws in the 1970s making their existence illegal. Only one super-powered being exists: Doctor Manhattan, and not only is his presence making the political and military situation worse, he’s rapidly losing interest in the affairs of the mortal realm. In the midst of all this, a single rouge, costumed vigilante is investigating the murder of some of his former associates…
None of the above summation does this story justice. Watchmen is a meditation about who controls the fate of human kind. Should destiny be allowed to run its course? How far can one man exercise control over the fate of humanity? Where does free will end? How coincidental are coincidences?
All against the background of a world growing darker and darker, marbled by the fatalism of a human race that suspects the end is nigh…
I was 11 years old when this was first released, in the second half of 1986 - a time of Reagan/Grobachev summits and the cult of Margaret Thatcher’s Iron Lady. It was a time when the entertainment pendulum swung disturbingly between The Cosby Show & The Golden Girls, on one hand…and Rambo & The A-Team on the other. This story was far too adult for the comic-reading me of 1986 - obsessed as I was with Crisis on Infinite Earths and its aftermath. The 34 year old me, on the other hand, is more than ready for this sumptuous literary feast.
It’s a story unafraid to explore bloody brutality and unchecked mental illness. It’s a story that inflicts rather painful and startling consequences on its “heroes” - people that will make you think twice about the actual definition of the word. It’s a story that plays metaphorical games by using a comic-book-within-a-comic-book structure. Many supporting documents are offered between the issues (the novel itself is the collection of the original 12-issue DC comic series). Personal commentaries, historical analysis…all combine to tell the story of those who once watched the human race…but now, as the title itself suggests, who is watching the watchers? No one is perfect in this world - certainly not the supposed “heroes”, who are as far from god-like as you can possibly get and still wear the label. The one person who comes close to god-like perfection - Dr. Manhattan - sees things so differently from human eyes, he actually proves all but useless. In spite of his great power…which is an even more telling metaphor.
As a piece of 1980s literature, it’s superb - it manages to reflect the concerns of the time without descending into a pop culture meltdown. In fact, it’s the true face of the 1980s…a time of recklessness, greed & brash irresponsibility in the face of the dark terrors on the horizon. It’s also absolutely timeless; Watchmen isn’t afraid to remind its readers about repeating the lessons of history - both good and bad.
The finale is shocking, hideously violent, and surprisingly profound. I honestly don’t know if the upcoming film version will be able to do justice to what is, without a doubt, a modern day epic. The test will be to see if the audience leaves theatres feeling emotionally wiped and genuinely disturbed…because that’s the way I certainly felt upon completing this masterwork of bleak storytelling. The character of Rorschach will certainly stick in your mind…his journey is the journey of the entire story…and it’s not for the faint of heart.
Enjoy…but be warned.
10
(BUT…I really really wish that George Perez had been the artist)
Who am I?
Why am I Here?
Yes, I'm a giant robot of destruction. I have a huge brain, sarcastic software, and small people flee in terror when they see me.
In another reality, I'm also a teacher. That tends to balance things out nicely.