No one is arguing that Watchmen isn’t a masterpiece. At least, I’m not. But I will readily acknowledge what Alan Moore himself stated. There is only enough story for six issues. Not twelve. There is quite a bit of padding in this series, and this particular issue may be the worst offender. However, Dave Gibbons’ spectacular artwork makes even these dull moments shine.
We open with an entire page of Laurie silently wiping away the dust from Dan’s junk. It’s too slow and dull for me, and I’m already growing impatient. We didn’t need this much space to tell us something we already knew. And also, since this is Watchmen, whenever a character draws a line across a circle, that line is in the minute-hand position ticking toward midnight on the Doomsday Clock. Everything means something, even if that something isn’t that deep.
This bit with the flamethrower is played for laughs, but why is Dan’s control panel so incredibly vague? Doesn’t seem particularly efficient to me.
I do like how quickly Dan grew to accept Rorschach’s conspiracy theory. Now that he has Laurie in his life, he finally has something to lose and is terrified of any perceived threat — real or imaginary.
Laurie still sees things clearly, but she’s unable to wipe away the metaphorical dust from Dan’s eyes. Still, though, it is worth noting that at the halfway mark of the story, Dan and Laurie are the only “heroes” who haven’t been directly targeted by this “conspiracy.” That’s not because Rorschach was just imagining things, but because Dan and Laurie are the most pathetic, unambitious characters in this story. They posed absolutely no threat to Adrian, so he never took any action against them.
Dan’s whole life is full of these moments where he keeps meaning to do something, but never gets around to doing it. Particularly when it comes to throwing something away and moving on with his life. He knows he should. He tells himself and everyone who’ll listen that he should, but he just can’t pull himself out of the nostalgic doldrums of inaction. Instead of using his fortune and genius to improve the world, he allows his gadgets to gather dust while he reminisces with Hollis Mason and submits articles to bird magazines. And if Laurie didn’t fall into his life, he’d keep on doing that right up until the very end.
Moore and Gibbons are trying repeatedly to show us just how silly all this is. Different colored costumes for different purposes? Yeah, it’s straight out of G.I. Joe, and it’s ridiculous. Unfortunately, too many readers don’t pick up on this subtle mockery because they’re used to decades of Batman and Iron Man wardrobes filled with a similar collection of nonsensical gear.
I love how Gibbons shows movement in these panels. And again, the reiteration of ridiculousness. The most sophisticated flying machine in the world is named after a Disney cartoon.
Unlike Rorschach, Dan actually did work alongside the Comedian. And he learned a lesson of futility. All his gear and gadgets was just unnecessary crap. But still, he couldn’t get rid of any of it. Even his non-functioning exoskeleton suit that broke his arm.
Oh, Dan. Rorschach never was normal. Not really. He was just more in control back then. I kind of feel like this is a white lie Dan is telling himself to help justify his past life. There was a time when it made sense, right? We all used to be “normal superheroes,” weren’t we?
I don’t think Laurie is intentionally being insensitive. She’s just oblivious. Yet another frustrating, unlikable character in this story.
There is a 99% chance Rorschach’s landlady is lying here. But I can’t figure out why. The truth about him is damning and sensational enough. Perhaps she was just vindictive. Trying to get in as many insults she can during her 15 minutes of fame.
And there we have it: Rorschach’s first and biggest fan, the far-right editor of an extremist tabloid. Moore perfectly captures the hypocrisy of the “law and order” crowd who so quickly will support a man who attacked the police if they deem it politically expedient.
Perhaps my biggest complaint about Watchmen is how little attention is given to Max Shea. He wasn’t the only subversive creative Adrian kidnapped. But he’s the only one we hear about, and even then, we don’t hear that much. Just a few dropped lines here and there, including the backup supplemental material that most readers skip. Perhaps Moore worried about giving away the ending too soon?
Yes, Adrian is a psychotic murderer plotting the destruction of an entire city. But — now hear me out — but he is wholly motivated by his desire to save the world. And he does this through big and small ways. Whether that be trying to end the Cold War or merely raising money for charity. It’s kind of funny how much I’m finding myself siding with Adrian during this re-reading.
After two pages of Dan and Laurie awkwardly trying and ultimately failing to have sex on the couch, we’re left with Gibbons trying to artistically tie everything together. But I feel like Moore belabored the point by devoting so much space to this idea. And then he’ll even have Dan literally say he’s impotent. We get it! We don’t need all this padding.
I feel like this issue is just going around in circles, repeating the same. Dan had no fears until he gained something to lose. But he only feels confident when he’s a superhero. This dream sequence perfectly illustrates this idea, but we already figured out most of that before this. And the story will continue to hammer home these ideas in even more explicit ways to remove all subtlety.
This is why I don’t think Laurie was intentionally bringing up Jon to hurt Dan. She can’t help it. Dr. Manhattan was her entire life for years. It’s going to take her some time to get used to living away from him.
And here it is again. The Smiley Face/Doomsday Clock of Watchmen. It’s starting to feel pretentious now. But that’s what happens when you have too many pages and not enough story to fill them.
Sigh … and now we get a detailed explanation of the dream we just saw. I’m not accustomed to all this hand-holding. Or a story that moves this slowly. Can’t we get on with it?
I love this unglamorous shot of Dan awkwardly pulling on his grey sweats. All the traditional superhero “suiting up” scenes skip over these mundane moments that show how silly this concept really is.
We’ll eventually get to Dan pulling on his gloves and loading up his utility belt — like we see Batman do all the time — but first he has to goofily stretch his shirt over his head. The end result of Dan in his full Nite Owl uniform is supposed to be ridiculous, too, but I think some readers think it looks cool and good because they’re conditioned to think that way.
But this, however, is a truly breathtaking scene. An inspiring display of power that can really only be outdone by Dr. Manhattan. It’s also a sad reminder of Dan’s squandered potential.
Speaking of squandered, this panel takes up two-thirds of a page yet is surprisingly mundane. I guess that’s the problem with being as talented as Gibbons is — the standard is set incredibly high. But at the end of the day, I just see another attempt to eat up as much space as possible.
I like how the most purely heroic moment of this entire story is a simple apartment fire. But it does make me wonder why Dan hasn’t equipped the fire department with their own airships. If you truly want to make the world a better place, don’t keep all your good ideas to yourself.
The fleeting moment of inspirational imagery quickly becomes silly once again. This is a full-grown man standing on top of a flying ship named after a cartoon owl, while Billie Holiday blasts over the speakers. Yeah, he saved the day, but in perhaps the goofiest way possible.
One of Moore’s arguments in this deconstruction of superheroes is that most of the people attracted to this line of work would be sexual perverts. And, sadly, that includes Dan, too. He was checking Laurie out during the whole rescue operation, and now he’s horny.
Subtle.
Laurie’s delayed response is the funniest part of this issue. Breaking Rorschach out of prison is a horrible idea, no matter how you look at it. But Dan’s got his mojo back and he’s ready to take on the world. And as a reader, I’m more than ready for something to happen.
This issue’s supplemental material may be some of the weakest in the series, but I still find it rather interesting. Moore is essentially pushing back on his own decision to perform a massive deconstruction of the superhero genre. It reminds me of Grant Morrison’s Pax Americana, which featured a Dr. Manhattan-like character grotesquely dissecting his dog to try to understand why he likes it.
Morrison’s character realized he didn’t like his dog after he removed its brain from its skull and pulled apart its organs and skin. To my surprise, Moore also realized that if you spend too much time studying the individual components of something, you lose the sense of wonder that attracted you to it in the first place.
But Moore now seems to be justifying his work, as he should. I think there is value in the academic exercise of deconstruction — just as long as you don’t get too far into it.
But how can we accomplish our deconstruction without losing our sense of wonder? Dan suggests reframing things in a mythological setting. And that works great when telling stories about Superman, Batman and Wonder Woman. But can such an inspirational framing work with the Watchmen characters? Should it? That’s something I’ll keep in mind when I — eventually — get to reviewing the adaptations of this story.
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