Watchmehhhh (see what I did there?)

Went to see Watchmen last night and it underwhelmed in the ways I expected it to. Prior to the viewing, my friend Jenn and I discussed that potentially, this film is inseparable from its viewers’ preconceptions. Those prejudiced against its various adaptive liberties would remain so, and conversely those stoked to finally see it on the screen would probably be invigorated by the whole shebang. This seems to hold water with reviews (held up to preceding levels of enthusiasm expressed) on a few of the blogs I follow . (And with those individual prejudices guiding judgment of the film, there’s a terrible joke about viewings of the film being a viewer’s own Rorschach test.)

Jenn has been ecstatic about the movie’s opening, so much so that in making plans to see it,  I talked her down from waiting in line for the midnight opening showing. She loved it. My girlfriend who only read the first dozen pages or so of the comic and with little to no preconceptions, liked it mostly okay. Her biggest problem was a general sense of missing something about the plot and characters. Rather than getting a sense for Moore’s wrestling with uncertainty and conflict, she walked away with Snyder’s tableau of vaguery. And overall I’m pretty ambivalent about what I saw on screen, with some strong dislikes about its style balanced with some parts and performances that I genuinely enjoyed. So my judgment and assessment falls into a few different categories:

  • Watchmen The Movie™ as adaptation = Mixture of success and failure
  • Watchmen The Movie™ as action movie = Okay
  • Watchmen The Movie™ as merchandizing cash cow = What the fuck is wrong with people?

In a lot of ways this movie is like Paula Abdul’s “Opposittes Attract,” in terms of directorial choices being made, for every two-steps forward– there’s two-steps back. The visual design of the film is phenomenal. I can’t imagine a better looking adaptation of Dave Gibbons’ art, but the flaw isn’t with how it looks so much as how it moves. The slow-motion scenes were excessive and dull, that they took me right out of the scene (although I think the exception is the Comedian’s jump into the rioting crowd), that places the film unironically back into the mold of so many terrible superhero action movies.

Jackie Earle Haley (Moocher!) gives a pitch-perfect performance as Rorschach, but occasionally has to share the screen with the vacuum of personality that is Malin Ackerman’s Silk Spectre. The rest of the cast is mostly fine to unremarkable, but as a whole lacking in cohesion and consistency. It often feels like everyone is in their own separate movie with conflicting tones and feelings1.

Like just about everyone else, I like the opening credits w/ Dylan’s “Times They Are A Changin.'” The opening was indeed great, but sadly for many of my friends, it was their favorite part of the entire film. But after that, all other uses of popular song in the film were uniformly awful. The songs should’ve elevated the scenes or provided an ironic subtext, but in nearly every use, song choices deflated meaning, mood, and tension. Worse still was the original soundtrack, which telegraphed far too much and much too cheesily. There’s something to be said for restraint, and whatever that something is, Snyder certainly never heard it.

Overall, I think he got it wrong. The movie on its own terms is okay, and functions as an average to better action movie. But I was never a fan of the Watchmen for its action-movie qualities. I liked the original’s subversive themes and character deconstructions alongside layers of mystery, conspiracy, and meta-commentary. So, it’s hard to get enthused about it being an o-kay action flick, shitty thriller, and totally unsatisfying exploration of legacy/history/identity.

I know that as I’m complaining about the lack of understanding it shows to its characters, that I’m potentially falling into the archetype of wounded-nerd, hater, super cynic, etc. I like to thinks2 I gave it a fair shot, but as a counterpoint to my largely negative opinions, funny-man Patton Oswalt’s posted an impassioned defense of Watchmen The Movie™, offering that in most nerds’ eyes– no one could’ve gotten it right. And maybe he’s right, but then again he mentions in that blog post how great the show Burn Notice is and that show’s leads are possibly the only people I can imagine being less capable than Malin Ackerman of using their acting talent to escape from a paper bag. (This show also makes me incredibly sad for Bruce Campbell, and the inversion of his tendancy to appear in crappy but awesome projects, into acting in an awesomely crappy project.)

More than anything about Watchmen The Movie™ itself, the thing that’s skeeving me out the most is the attendant merchandising. Specifically the commodifying of the Comedian (aspiring rapist and nationalist stooge) and Rorschach (paranoid sociopath and racist/misogynist/homophobic triple threat) into action figures, potential Legoplaysets, and adorning the walls of both the cluelessly misguided and the outright assholes. Of course, there’s the societal benefit that anyone wearing the shirt pictured at left is easily identifiable as an unpitiable shitbird to be avoided at all costs. Yes there are other villains like the Joker that get turned into toys and Hot Topic shirts— but part of what makes the Comedian and Rorschach marketable now, is the superficial sanitization of their characters3. Like the subtle editing of Rorschach’s opening monologue4, the streamlined film versions aren’t wholly inaccurate but in smoothing over their edges and making them more palatable for public consumption– the movie misses so much of the point of Moore’s original work, that it’s hard to find much solace in Snyder’s fidelity to the dangling blue wang of the original.

1 It almost makes me wish that Haley’s castmates from Breaking Away could’ve joined him, imagine: Dave Stoller (Dennis Christopher) as Adrian Veidt, Mike (Dennis Quaid) as Dr. Manhattan, Cyril (Daniel Stern) as the Owl, and Rod could be the Comedian (b/c they’re both dicks, gettit?). Almost.

2 Originally a typo, but methinks I should try to popularize this ala the British pluralizing of the “maths”

3 In my reading, the two represent extremes of conservatism taken to its most villainous ideological ends. On one hand, the Comedian as the cynical über-nationalist, whose faith in Manifest Destiny and America’s moral certainty justifies any excess. Rorschach conversely is the extreme isolationist whose xenophobia and fear of influence can’t allow any cracks in his own moral certainty.

4 In the film, Rorschach says, “The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the politicians will look up and shout, ‘Save us!’… and I’ll look down and whisper, ‘no.’ All those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers… and all of a sudden no one can think of anything to say.” Whereas in the original he says:

“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.’ They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsetps of good men like my father or president truman. Decent men who believed in a day’s work for a day’s pay. Instead they followed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn’t realize that the trail led over the precipice until it was too late. Don’t tell me they didn’t have a choice. Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers… and all of a sudden no one can think of anything to say.”

The editing diminishes Rorschach’s sexual dysfunction and larger sense of paranoia, instead tailoring him into a more recognizable but still somewhat extreme conservative ideologue. It’s a separate question whether any editing of the dialogue would have a similar diminishing effect, but in this case the omission in subject and change of emphasis (from universal to specific) does have an impact on the overall meaning and characterization of Rorschach.


Gay Panic in the Streets of Geekdom

The writers at nerd-news blog Topless Robot are exposing their own insecurities perhaps, with a lazy gay-panic punchline in a post asking for readers’ “Most Shameful RPG Moment.” Soliciting  “hilarious, heartbreaking and embarrassing stories” of tabletop RPG gaming, the writer provides this scenario as an example:

Have you ever had a character who sex with another member of the party, even though both characters were played by guys? And felt horrified about it? Good, you should’ve, because that’s some freaky shit. [Note: emphasis mine]

It seems almost quaint to me, that a nerd’s biggest fear might be being perceived as, “Gay.” This sort of homophobia in geeks is a dissonance that I’ve never understood. I’ve always been of the belief that those marginalized by society (whether by race, orientation, or alignment)  share a common persecutor and should naturally ally against intolerance.

Maybe it’s my viewpoint that’s quaint, but somehow I think that if you took a wide poll of self-identified geeks and nerds, the fear of being perceived as “Gay,” wouldn’t rate in the top 10. My number one geek fear right now is the oppositte– that I might share anything in common with the intolerant sort of geeks who are still grossed out by the idea of two dudes kissing each other. With mainstream pop-culture eating up Superhero and SciFi properties, video games as big business, and the internet emerging as the dominant communication medium; nerds can’t be made fun of for what they like anymore, so much as they can be made fun of for what they are like.

Few people are going to deride you for watching Watchmen (except maybe Alan Moore) or playing Left 4 Dead, because comic books and zombies are officially part of the mainstream zeitgeist. On the other hand, obsessively creating a fantasy world whose moral/ethical values mirror your own specifically intolerant and juvenile power fantasies will always be worthy of mockery.

In a double backflip of irony, Topless Robot’s bit of bland homophobia sits beneath a satirically placed Chick tract illustration, wherein a character freaks out about their D&D character dying before attempting suicide themselves. Looks like someone rolled a -12 for self-awareness.

p.s. No links to Topless Robot were included because, why give them the traffic?

Le Sigh

Sometimes, most times, I think I should be a lot more dedicated to my writing and updating of this here thing. And then sometimes, I wonder why, oh god why do people look at this misbegotten stain I call a blog. A while back I made note of the fact that many of the site views are coming from folks who probably don’t want to be here, arriving by the magickal musings of Google and sometimes Google Image Search. Fortunes have not improved for those cast upon the spiny shores of my sporadically updated internet fiefdom, as the reporting on recent Search Engine Terms that led here will illustrate. Going through the Terms is sort of a rorschach test reflection of this here blog, so here is an abridged list of said Search Engine Terms, in descending order of frequency with my commentary in parentheses.

  • spider girl (I’ve since deleted the image file and half-assed post that discussed my general dislike of this type of teen character, the “Daughter from an Alternate Universe,” largely because these characters are bereft of originality and any inspiration, in addition to the discomfort caused by the awkward sexualization inherent in these characters who are often marketed to young females, as if giving Spider-man boobs is some great gift to feminists and female comic fans.)
  • spidergirl (And yet…)
  • spider-girl (…she must be popular, somehow. What do I know about girls or popularity or anything else, anyway?)
  • hack/slash (Case in point.)
  • hack slash (*sigh*)
  • batman shark (Conversely, these are words that I would encourage the strongest association with in every aspect of my life.)
  • shark repellent (Yes, PMA is making it happen!)
  • batman shark repellent (Three-fer.)
  • cesar romero (Again, a boon to my blog.)
  • russian painter (I have no idea.)
  • joker brian azzarello sex (Still think this book sucks.)
  • bruce the rubber shark (Again, awesome such associations shall remain.)
  • spider girl pics (Really? Still?)
  • rob liefeld (Well, you can’t win them all.)
  • peanuts comics with references to god (Surprisingly specific search there.)
  • teen ass (Ye gods, I hope this blog was a wood-killer.)
  • batman and sharks (More to celebrate.)
  • rubber dungeon (Again, no idea.)
  • too short mini skirts (While I’m generally “pro-boner,” again in this case I hope my writings here have banished all erections which may have mistakenly arrived here.)
  • “all star goddamn batman” (Oh, Franky.)
  • cin cite sexxxxxy (Oh, cranky Franky, Frank, Frank, Frrrank, Frank-a-doodle, Frankenheimer.)
  • spectacular boobs (Spectacular!)
  • powerful woman (Well, that’s a change of pace.)
  • batman and shark (How we love the status quo.)
  • batman, shark (In all its permutations, these words are beautiful.)
  • P.S. Ironically, including all these terms in this post will promote further association with these terms and damn me to an ever spiralling level of meta-commentary blogging about blogging purgatory.


    So, here’s the trailer for the upcoming game, Marvel Ultimate Alliance 2: Fusion (which by the by, sounds more like a concept restaurant that serves Cherry Spidey-tini’s, than a game).

    Being a nerd who loves both comic books and video games can be rough psychologically. We overlook gameplay mediocrity in favor of embodying our favorite licensed characters and utilizing their trademark super-powers. It’s Stockholm Syndrome for geeks, as we sympathize with our abusers/exploiters by accepting a substandard product (at premium prices), and just shrug at generic gameplay and nonsensical plots that are underdeveloped by even the hackiest of standards. And the latter is important, because we generally read comics for the stories they tell.

    We accept mediocrity, because the union of comics and video games often present a sort of nerd-buffet overgorged with all the characters, powers, and bits of storylines we desire– but with none of the individual voices, quirks and character-defining moments that make us fans of the original work. Sure we’ll get a Spidey one-liner or two, but a few offhand puns don’t define a character and hardly distract from how arbitrary these games often feel. A lobster and steak buffet is great in theory, but it’s usually a vacuum of dread and existential despair in reality.

    Basically what I’d like to see is a comic book game that doesn’t feel generic. A lot of the joy of having so many playable characters in the last Marvel Ultimate Alliance game was deflated by the fact that so many characters special powers did the same thing. And while it wasn’t spectacular, one of Justice League Heroes‘ assets was its fairer differentiation between characters moves and relative strengths (although maybe Green Arrow was just a little too useless). The best games of last year (Grand Theft Auto 4 and Fallout 3 imho) engaged and immersed their players into complex stories rich with idiosyncratic characters and sideplots. The gameplay served the story-telling, rather than being an end in and of itself.

    With the mediocre Civil War storyline as its basis, all the recent commentary on event fatigue seems relevant, becasuse many of the same issues with characters getting short shrift to serve a particular product are present (though for the record, I enjoyed Final Crisis throughout its run). In general, my hopes aren’t high for MUA 2. (Although in hindsight, Civil War at least had some interesting moments compared to the ambivalence I felt towards Secret Invasion, which will probably be greater than Dark Reign…. et cetera. ) At best, one hopes that there may be multiple storylines/endings based on the different factions involved, and at worst we’ll get the same old crap w/ some next-gen console lighting effects. And unfortunately for many, the same old crap will suffice.

    We Can Only Hope That The Arkham Asylum Game Looks This Good

    (Lifted from Paul Constant’s post over on The Stranger’s Slog)

    Stuff Sheiks Love

    "The classical Western image of a 'sheikh': Sheikh Sattam de Haddadin of Palmyra, by Russian painter Alexandr Evgenievich Yacovleff." -Image/Text via Wikipedia.

    Inspired by the amazing insights offered on this site, I’ve decided to share with you my own taxonomic and exhaustive analysis of a prevalent cultural movement. Please to enjoy what is only the first in a series of posts on Stuff Sheiks Love.

    Sheiks spend a lot of their time in the desert, studying the Quran, and cultivating impressive displays of facial hair (provided that they are men). While you can spell it as Sheik, Sheikh, Shaykh, Shaikh, and Cheikh (thanks Wikipedia!) among many other variant transliteralized spellings– the word or honorific term literally means “elder,” in the Arabic language and generally refers to tribal elders, wise men, scholars, those of certain financial and political influence, et al. Being men (and women) of learned dispositions (otherwise they wouldn’t be Sheiks, duh), Sheiks appreciate respect and good manners. Subsequently, given the importance and esteem conferred by this honorific title, Sheiks love the Arabic language.

    One could safely say that Sheiks love kaftans, figs, roasted lamb, and the mathematical innovations created by Muslim scholars (which incidentally, are things that I too love), but rather than offering to you a litany of simplistic generalizations held up by straw men (and what would be the point of that?), I will go even deeper into my exploration of Sheik culture by providing specific information on a sub-subculture that has been well documented in multiple mediums and can be easily referenced for historical accuracy. I hope that other academics will offer their counter-theses and arguments on this subject.

    Without further preface, please to enjoy what is only the first in a series of posts on Stuff Iron Sheiks Love. Iron Sheik Iron Sheiks love being World champion wrestlers and defeating their infidel American opponents. In besting their competitors, inflicting pain and humiliation is a priority which is why Iron Sheiks love submission holds. While it is debatable whether the Quran allows for shellfish, there is no doubt that Iron Sheiks love the Boston Crab. (Though it should be noted that the Quran explicitly pooh-poohs New England in general.)

    Perhaps the pinnacle of pain-inflictors in their  arsenal– Iron Sheiks love using their signature finishing move, the Camel Clutch, wherein the wrestler sits upon their face-down oppponent’s back and places their arms atop the wrestler’s thighs before applying a chinlock and causing their face-down opponent considerable physical distress. Being diabolical charicatures meant to inspire fear and loathing from xenophobic wrestling fans– Iron Sheiks love inflicting considerable physical distress.

    Having been retired, Iron Sheiks aren’t able to inflict physical distress on opponents as readily as they used to. To fill the void and pass the time, Iron Sheiks also enjoy appearing on the Howard Stern show or YouTube to insult former colleagues, competitors, business partners and sundry acquaintances. Like many formerly famous, or rather infamous celebrities, Iron Sheiks’ outbursts are often the product of doubt created in the vacuum of their bygone professional life. It’s for this reason that Iron Sheiks love battling existential ennui by threatening to “humble” opponents with anal rape.

    Going nuts on internet videos and screaming racist and homophobic invectives on the radio can garner the attention that recall one’s cartoonish glory days– and recapturing, embracing, and grinding to a pulp any semblance of one’s former fame is something that Iron Sheiks LOVE.

    Bleary-eyed 2008 Best-Of, Blurst-Of…

    This list has no arbitrary number, and no real parameters other than I’m trying (dimly) to recall all that resonated with me the most, for better or worse, in the bygone year. Plot-related SPOILERS will be discussed, because it’s hard to be specific in praise/critique without acknowledging details. Here’s my not-so-thin-line between love and hate.


    • All-Star Superman was perfect in almost every way. Grant Morrison embraced everything Superman inspired, assembling cluttered continuity and archetypical resonances into a heroic ideal distilled to its essence. Frank Quitely continues to be my favorite of Morrison’s recurring collaborators. While there are other artists whom I might prefer in general, Quitely’s unique style and sense of pacing just seems to fit ineffably better.
    • The Death of Captain America managed to turn what could’ve been a cheap stunt, into one of the most compelling espionage stories I’ve ever read. As a lefty and contrarian, I’ve never been a fan of the unabashed patriotism and jingoism Captain America’s represented, but Ed Brubaker helped carve out a character I cared about– before shooting him dead and replacing him with his long-lost sidekick. And of course he made me like the resurrected sidekick too, taking the new Captain America into murkier and doubt-ridden places that a stalwart, Hitler-punching Steve Rogers may not have been able to go. Brubaker’s Criminal has consistently been one of the best reads in any given month and his new series Incognito is off to a great start for the best of 2009.
    • Fallout 3 destroyed my social life by being 2008’s most absorbing video game experience. GTA IV was good, and even great at times,  and Fable 2 was fun in its own right– but nothing beat the bombed-out post-apocalyptic wastes of Fallout’s immense world. Fallout‘s mix of humor, nostalgia, cold-war paranoia, and engaging game-play has kept me glued to my 360 for the last third of the year.
    • The Dark Knight was among the best movies I saw in 2008, regardless of genre and my own geekiness. Heath Ledger’s electric performance, the epic cinematography, overarching themes of dodgy morality, and complex plotting made TDK one of the year’s best (especially in IMAX intensity).  Iron Man was fun too, because hanging out with Robert Downey Jr. would be fun, but it just didn’t put all the pieces together the way TDK did.
    • let the right one inLet The Right One In was my favorite movie of the year, its frosty Swedish setting sealing the tension within its story of nascent desire and adolescent violence. The fact that it was a teen vampire movie of sorts, puts it into immediate comparison with Twilight and Anne Rice’s libidinous stories, but LTROI distinguishes itself by its emotional naturalism and the fact that in many ways it was a purer and more loyal exploration of the vampire myth.


    • Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was dumber than even I expected it to be. Steven Spielberg managed to crowbar in all his pet obsessions (daddy issues, alien life, and the irrepressibility of youth!) into one of the densest disappointments of the year. Even if the story wasn’t totally inane, the performances were uniformly horrible. Harrison Ford may as well have phoned it in from Spielberg’s favorite alien planet, Cate Blanchett’s horrendous Soviet accent and phallus-envy sword play were a constant irritation, and Karen Allen seemed to be reprising a role as a heretofore unknown and unhinged cat-lady. And of course, one can’t ignore that the story itself was inane. Indy 4 suffered from constant credulity-straining suspensions of disbelief (even the jungle monkeys hate Socialists!) to forehead-slapping thematic platitudes (“knowledge was their treasure!!”), resulting in a multi-million dollar turd that only Spielberg could’ve directed.
    • Detective Comics: Heart of Hush by Paul Dini was a story I can’t believe I even bothered to read. I’d generally been enjoying Dini’s run on Detective, but this storyline was a pathetic attempt to bring some gravitas to the character of Hush. Riddled with cliche’s and cheap flashbacks that attempted to give Hush some depth, this absolutely airless ugh-fest compared all the more unfavorably to Grant Morrison’s convoluted but inspired BATMAN R.I.P.
    • Mark Millar used to be a writer I enjoyed (The Ultimates, Ultimate Fantastic Four, etc.), but thanks to its big-screen adaptation, I finally read Wanted, and I truly wish I could unread the ugly, hateful, and ultimately pathetic power-fantasy in its pages. Everything of Millar’s I’ve read (or re-read) since has been colored by that story’s shallow characterizations, puerile attempts at humor, and general bigotry.
    • Guy Fieri‘s frosted douche-itude and ubiquity is quickly making the often unbearable Food Network, completely unwatchable. I can stomach Bobby Flay’s overwhelming smarminess, deal with Iron Chef America‘s tepid imitation of the Japanese original, and Alton Brown’s cornball moments in return for glimpses of culinary inspiration and opinion rendered smartly and pointedly by folks like Brown, Mario Batali, Masahiro Morimoto, and Jeffrey Steingarten. But Fieri and his chicken-fried personality represent what’s wrong with how our culture relates to food. I’m not saying we need to populate the TV with granola-fed back-to-the-landers, but I’d take anything over his constant shilling of fried mediocrity and quarter-pound diabetes burgers available at TGIFridays.
    • The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was yet another example of overblown cinematic stupidity. Probably the worst film I saw all year (even after I saw a stop-motion bat try to rape his college sweetheart). Worse because of its attempts to appear profound, shoe-horning Forrest Gump‘s treacly sentimentality onto a creepy, ultimately hollow love story. For something so incredibly overwrought The Curious Case… is amazingly careless. The film doesn’t even follow its own internal logic relating to Brad Pitt’s de-aging (starts normal sized baby that’s old, so it should end with man-sized geezer that’s a baby?), and Cate Blanchett gives another overwhelmingly obnoxious performance in a high-profile movie. Adding to its insipidness, the film fails to do anything meaningful with Hurricane Katrina in its backdrop, insulting the hurricane’s victims and its audience.