[spoiler alert: full plot details of both film and comic versions are discussed]

Any film adaptation is automatically a mixed blessing: the chance to see some beloved story translated from a book/comic/radio show/TV show/videogame to the big screen, counterbalanced by the risk that it will get fundamentally ruined in the process. Of these, the trials of moving from books to movies are probably best established—massive plot compression, reduced complexity, characters that don’t “look right,” jettisoning of descriptive language—but comic adaptations are a much newer phenomenon with their own pitfalls. To begin, one might argue that Watchmen is only the second true conversion (what in videogame terms might be called a “total conversion” from mod culture), following Frank Miller’s Sin City, with most other superhero and even explicitly comic book movies often closer to “inspired by” or “featuring characters from” than outright transfers from actual comic runs or specific graphic novels[1]. Even previous efforts to adapt Alan Moore in League Of Extraordinary Gentleman, From Hell, and V for Vendetta, and Watchmen director Zach Snyder’s previous outing with Frank Miller’s 300, diverged quite widely from the source material. By contrast, Sin City was almost a shot-for-shot remake of the Dark Horse series. But even it suffered in the process of combining multiple short story arcs into an attempt to create a coherent longer film, and from the innate limitations of the flat-affect noir patois in which it was composed. Watchmen was conceived first as a 12-part comic run and then collected as a graphic novel, ostensibly providing a more linear narrative to put into a film script. Once the initial jitters that the material would be handled indelicately had passed (Snyder went out of the way to reassure fans), the more apropos question became: does Watchmen even work as a movie? With Snyder’s Watchmen, we have a vastly ambitious attempt to convert what has been called an “unfilmable” work into celluloid. How well viewers think the effort turned out is breaking down along traditional party lines, with mainstream critics bothered by its structure, pulp excesses, and even its slavish devotion to the text (cf. the first two Harry Potter films); and fans thrilled to see familiar scenes brought to life. At the risk of rehashing overchurned ground, I think the movie succeeds and fails precisely by those measures and your ultimate enjoyment will be determined how much you give credence to each. Let’s start with the structure.

Western film is primarily built around the three-act format, and most preceding superhero movies have conformed accordingly. Certainly many other films successfully break out of this, so the fact that Watchmen is not traditionally arranged is not inherently a fault. But while written as a holistic story, the narrative in Watchmen is far from linear. Among its most striking features are the overlapping metastories, like the Tale of the Black Freighter and excerpts from Hollis Mason’s Under the Hood memoirs, which often serve dual purposes via juxtaposed panels in a fashion that is hard to replicate outside the comic book page, let alone achieve even within it (another example might be limited passages in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, such as stories-within-stories told by Cain & Abel). Most of that is stripped away in the movie. (To compensate, both have been produced separately for a DVD release; it will be interesting to see if they’re reintegrated on the eventual Watchmen expanded DVD.) Even so, the Watchmen comics were episodic as well as progressive, and with that carried over to the movie, it certainly helps to know the story already to help follow along with the many historical flashbacks, individual backstories, alternate-historical allusions, and psychological layering that fill around the throughline investigation of the “mask killer” by Rorschach. I can certainly empathize with new viewers becoming somewhat bewildered by the sequencing, such as the origin story for Dr. Manhattan coming quite close to the movie’s conclusion. Yet with my fuzzy recollection of the comic’s order, I mostly found myself curious if I could remember which came next, and Rorschach’s progress was helpful in providing a reference timeline.

The pulp excesses are another element likely to polarize audiences. Moore’s great conceit was to imagine a world where ordinary people became costumed vigilantes (with the notable exception of Dr. Manhattan, who was neither ordinary nor particularly costumed), and the consequences that would follow. What kind of person puts on a mask and goes out at night to fight crime? The first generation are mostly disillusioned law enforcement, but the cadre gradually expands to include the fame-seeker, the psychopath, the fetishist. The following generation, represented by most of the members in the Watchmen, adds to that inheritance (the daughter of the first Silk Spectre is expected to take on her skintight latex mantle); hero worship (the second Nite Owl is an avowed fan of the original, Hollis Mason, and visits him weekly to share stories of the ‘golden age’); and hubris (Ozymandias, who models himself after pharaohs and idolizes Alexander the Great). All of this leads to subverted motives, so when we see the ‘heroes’ in action, the result is often disturbing and extreme. The disillusioned Comedian is a grizzled veteran of wars, grinning around his everpresent cigar as he lays waste to the Viet Cong, then shooting a pregnant lover; who summarily disperses an anti-vigilante mob on the eve of the Keane Act becoming law by attacking protesters and firing into the crowd. Yet perhaps the most wanton violence is by the unlikely duo of washed-up, pudgy Dan Dreiberg and kittenish, moorless Laurie Juspeczyk as they take evident delight in the adrenaline-pumping, sex-charged brutalizing of a gang who follow them into the quintessential dark alley. Limbs snap, faces contort, and the newfound lovers shyly grin at each other as they resume a long-dormant pastime. Their later explicit coupling in the hovering Archie (complete with fetish overtones due to their crusading outfits, a point about marginalized sexuality made more directly in the comics where Dan is almost impotent without his suit, and characters like Hooded Justice and Silhouette are portrayed as closeted homosexuals) is almost redundant, but itself reminiscent of all that comics were feared to portray in the run-up to the Comics Code era: glorified violence, unbridled sexuality, and immoral horrors. By contrast, Rorschach is glibly referred to as a psychopath, yet he gives a very lucid depiction of his descent into violent reprisal while recounting the story of the kidnapped girl to the prison psychologist, and even though he treats suspects and enemies brutally (in some of the movie’s harshest scenes) his motivations are always clear and tied either to his outright survival (the boiling oil, defending himself in the cell) or the pursuit of the “mask killer” (interrogating Moloch and the Pyramid delivery goon). The overall effect of ‘heroes’ in action is one of moral ambiguity, a lurching and uncomfortable turn from the typically clearcut stories of the likes of Superman and Spider-Man, who always have external forces to blame for lapses of behavior (Kryptonite, alien symbiotes). When the Comedian finally breaks down in the bedroom of his former archenemy Moloch at the appalling demands of ‘the list’ that have unhinged even him after years of war and covert action, or when he has a brief moment to dote on his secret daughter before being scolded away by Sally Jupiter, you get a complex portrait of a very flawed but ultimately remorseful man who knows he will die violently, friendless and alone.

At the other extreme from the sordid pulp, we have the philosophical development of the series’ one true ’superhero’ in Dr. Manhattan who is clearly struggling to retain any vestige of humanity as he experiences the dissociation from any of the innate human limits (lifespan, linear time, location, normal senses, being subject to climate) and following his break-up with Laurie loses any tangible connection with human experience. This struggle of the superman among mortals is a compelling theme that has been taken up many times since Watchmen’s publication, including notable examples in the Ultimate universe with the re-imagined Hyperion (an alternate take on Superman); the breakdown of Supershock in Brian Michael Bendis’ series Powers; and even the barely-controlled rage of Mr. Incredible at his insurance job or sitting in traffic in Pixar’s The Incredibles (which, along with Powers, also picked up on the theme of public backlash, and with the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it picture of Dollar Bill gunned down when his cape is caught in a revolving door, the earliest example for Edna Mode’s famous exhortation, “No capes!”). The loneliness, isolation, and eventually detachment of a godlike figure among mortals makes for a compelling story on its own, but it suffers from being intermingled with the down-and-dirty lives of his fellow crusaders. And while the flat, dull intonation of much of Dr. Manhattan’s dialogue, combined with its dehumanized syntax as in his final TV interview, clearly are meant to convey the separation from the passions that rule normal human speech, it can come off as simply wooden and unengaging when put to screen. More expansively, precisely because we are meant to see the Doctor as an almost otherworldly and unempathetic character, the only time we can sympathize with his condition is when he is tormented by portions of his past such as his failed relationship with Janey Slater. This makes it ultimately hard to accept his abrupt return to Earth after simply observing Laurie’s discovery of her parentage, and semblance of conscience as he reacts to the human wreckage resulting from Veidt’s plan.

Finally, the question of veracity to the original text. I will certainly admit to being taken in by the naïve form of the argument, “the only way to honor the source material is to translate it exactly;” my evolution on that point has been explored here before. And having moved from that initial simplification, I have to hedge against hypocrisy if I would now find fault for someone doing what I once would have demanded. I do think that Sin City was weaker for being an exact duplicate of the graphic novel, because it offered few of the benefits of the film by going so far to make the visuals match the stark ink portraits of Frank Miller. A clear position on why Watchmen suffers similarly for its exactitude in treating the graphic novel as storyboard is offered by CNN’s Tom Charity, who lauds the innovations brought to the story such as its flashback credit sequence, which ranks with the Alex Ross painted vignettes that retold the whole of the first Spider-Man during the opening to Spider-Man 2, but seems to harbor particular umbrage with the description of Snyder’s work as ‘visionary’:

“Snyder — whose previous films were a remake (“Dawn of the Dead”) and another scrupulously faithful comic book adaptation (“300″) — is more in the line of a fancy photocopier, duplicating other artists’ imagery with a forger’s intensity. A visionary transforms the world. Snyder slavishly transcribes what’s set down 5 inches in front of his face.”

To be fair, that’s precisely what Snyder promised the fans. Where the cracks show is in the slippage between mediums, where comics and film fail when they try to solve the same problems the same way. Modern films have developed a complex visual language for dealing with time-jumping narratives, but still struggle to join parallel stories (split-panels work much better in comic form than split-screens). Pacing between the two formats is very different, and momentum diverted in comics (e.g. devoting an issue to a backstory) is much more detrimental to maintaining interest in film; comics after all often take at least a monthly pause between issues. And Charity is right to pick out that the omnipresent fear of looming nuclear devastation that was commonplace when Watchmen was first published in 1986 requires some translation in a day when biowarfare and terrorism have replaced the Soviets as the doomsday spectre. Yet it’s worth considering a comment made by Snyder (the last in a long line of attached directors) about how the project originally came to him:

“When I got the project, what the studio had in mind was a PG-13, two-hour movie where [the bad guy] gets killed in the end,” says Snyder. “Then it’s sequel-able and you’ve got a ‘Fantastic Four’ franchise called ‘Watchmen.’ “

Just mull over the notion of Watchmen being treated with anything like the calculated disregard heaped upon the stalwart Fantastic Four property (apparently a reboot is already in the works to take advantage of the ‘dark is the new hip’ aesthetic brought about by Nolan’s Batman relaunch). A sequel, even – maybe featuring the child of Nite Owl and Silk Spectre investigating the stories from Rorschach’s journal! Just as I’m willing to accept Count of Monte Cristo with Jacopo recast as comic relief as an acceptable tradeoff to the execrable off-axis indulgence of the Depardieu miniseries, so a faithful retelling with appropriate tweaks can meld the best of both worlds. And credit must be given to the production teams who brought the many sets and costumes off the page in a manner that was both true to the line art and still realistic. Hero costumes in particular require special attention so that the gleeful disregard for gravity, human physiques, and the behavior of textiles often employed by comic artists to make their figures more exciting is translated into believability. The Minutemen-era costumes look suitably homemade and cheaply constructed, especially the ludicrous wings worn by eventual padded-room resident Mothman. The updated costumes of the second Nite Owl and modern Comedian are emblematic of the Batman Begins-style exoskeleton, while the critical inkblot cloth effect of Rorschach’s ‘face’ is immaculately done (go Frank!). Dr. Manhattan is, yes, naked, very blue and glows, but kudos to the effort put into his reconstruction sequence shown in flashback as he regains control over his component molecules and literally pulls himself back together. Only Ozymandias looks like a ponce in his costume, which is perfectly fine with me since that’s still better than he looked in the comic with those metallic gold leggings; he’s sinister only when hooded and disguised during the assassination of the Comedian, with an intensely tight fight choreography that plays on his exotically triangular upper torso. Even the ludicrous purple suit he wears during the meeting with the oil executives is a nice nod to the reigning fashion in 1985 (also check out the Nagel print in the Comedian’s bedroom). My least favorite effect, incidentally, was Tricky Dick’s nose which was frankly distracting and no doubt a nuisance to act behind; unlike Ocean’s Thirteen, the nose does not play. The sets are perhaps most remarkable in how effortlessly they fall into the background; compare with the many look-at-me layouts typically found in comic book movies. The Batcave. The Fortress of Solitude. The Baxter Building. Green Goblin’s lair and military lab. Apart from Ozymandias’ Antarctica fortress, which is really just an amalgam of Egyptian monuments to flatter his ego, and his V-topped office tower that demonstrates his business wealth, Dan has the most elaborate ‘lair’ and it consists of a dank basement entrance to an abandoned train platform. And while some moments dragged and some transitions felt abrupt due to following the comics closely, the payoff was those scenes both major and minor that reminded fans of the highlights from reading. My particular standouts were quick shots of the Bernard and Bernie duo at the newsstand which figure in the Black Freighter storyline, including Bernard embracing Bernie protectfully as the integration field explosion hits them; Rorschach’s brief prison stay; and Nite Owl’s return to action. Extra geek fun was spotting two Eureka regulars playing Moloch and Seymour (the intern at the New Frontiersman at the end).

Which brings us to the controversial changed climax. What, no giant fake space squid? Heresy! Actually, this always struck me as the weakest part of Veidt’s strategem – it made the usual grand conspiracy mistake of overcomplicating the deception, which vastly magnifies the opportunities to uncover it…shame on you, world’s smartest man. The squid required simultaneous belief in massive extraterrestrial cephalopods, hostile intent by an alien race, and indeterminate future attacks in order to rally humanity to a common defense. The discursive turn in the movie to put the blame on Dr. Manhattan – already persona non grata due to the radioactivity cover story – neatly sidesteps most of the belief gap. People were already becoming uneasy at the prospect of a superbeing with near-limitless power; in fact, he was the suggested impetus for the massive Soviet stockpiling of nuclear weapons and the steady progression of the Doomsday clock towards midnight. Essentially the only people not already afraid of Dr. M were Americans, and the cancer scare and his subsequent removal to Mars worked to undermine that. Cue integration field generators in key cities that can duplicate the emissions known to be unique to Dr. Manhattan, and we have a plausible scenario that not only achieves the same end as giant space squid marauders but neatly taps Dr. M as the common enemy, neutralizing him as a threat to the scheme. Which leaves wishy-washy Dan who bows to the inevitable after an ass-kicking, and Rorschach.

Perhaps the best way to summarize the movie is with Rorschach himself. He is brutal but methodical, does what he believes to be necessary and never shrinks from ugly truths. He has faults aplenty, tempered by virtues like loyalty and commitment to justice. And when the greatest practical joke of all has been played on humanity by the smugly sociopathic Veidt, he alone remains devoted to his principles even in the face of the clear utilitarian argument for staying silent. He chooses death over capitulation: “No compromise, even in the face of Armageddon.” This stance has had terrifying consequences when applied to events in our world, simplifying complex situations into black and white and acting without regard for consequences or higher authority (or, ultimately, immanentizing the eschaton). But in the case of Watchmen the movie, which makes no compromise for ratings (moving to R doubtless lowered potential gross earnings), remains loyal to the original work, and commits to the nuanced themes that Moore raised which challenge many of the assumptions in the whole of the genre, we can feel the same guilty admiration as for poor unyielding Walter Kovacs.

[1] Many times comic book movies have drawn from specific issue details, from origin stories to the incorporation of elements from God Loves Man Kills into the second X-Men movie. However, these are usually a pastiche with significant variations from the source material – for example, in X2 William Stryker is a minister with a private religious agenda instead of a military officer working under government authority.