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[deckardcanine]

Finished reading Watchmen this week, after having read The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Both are inspired and potentially inspiring to me; I've never really attempted a graphic novel, but certain thematic and cinematic elements may find their way into my work (other than "Downscale") someday.

That said, it's hard to say how much I liked either of them. I knew from the outset that they would be grittier than I prefer. Even the occasional humor tends to be uncomfortable, almost as tho Alan Moore didn't believe in humor. (As a prominent anarchist, he doesn't believe in much.) It would explain why the so-called Comedian is even less funny than Heath Ledger's Joker.

The worst, most constant misery comes in the sporadic increments of a graphic novel that one of the characters reads in Watchmen. It contains vague parallels to the main story, but I don't see much point except that Moore probably didn't think it would sell separately. As it happens, Netflix just suggested I check out an animation based on that internal GN; I clicked "Not Interested" immediately without a second thought.

Darkness generally doesn't inhibit my admiration of a work, provided that brilliance shines thru (pardon my mixed metaphors). Still, I have a few peeves:

1. The way Moore handles women. There's nothing wrong with their characterization; indeed, in each work, the main woman is potentially the most likable, respectable, and relatable character. Not the most powerful, but I can't complain, since the most powerful have serious behavioral problems, in keeping with the author's anarchism. No, my problem is that sex figures critically into all the halfway-important women's life stories, often dictated by circumstance. Many get raped, almost raped, or physically abused during sex. Some are lesbians who get disdained by their associates -- a fate somehow not shared by the gay men. Mina Murray sees little choice but to go, er, under cover as a prostitute for a mission. Sally Jupiter cultivates a slutty image for money, and her daughter Laurie feels obliged even in her teen years to be on sexual terms with Dr. Manhattan so that he doesn't lose interest in human, er, affairs. (I did not set out to make these puns.) By contrast, fewer than half the men ever get physical in any notable way.

2. Despite all my philosophical studies, I cannot make sense of Dr. Manhattan's superhuman view of the universe. I get that he can pretty much see all time at once, tho not in all places at once -- basically a God's-eye view minus the spatial omniscience. But clairvoyance must be handled with care in serious stories, lest it become as absurd as the average time travel epic. Doc sometimes fails to be helpful in time and explains that from his standpoint, it was "already too late." Going by that logic, he should never be able to do much besides observe. Yet he does lend a hand in a big way now and then. He later tries and fails to enlighten Laurie by saying, "We're all puppets. I'm just a puppet who can see the strings." Strange words from an atheist. Maybe the unidentified puppeteer just doesn't have much interest in the welfare of humanity, but then you have to wonder why bother moving the strings in the first place.

It's hard to tell how much of what Doc says is sincere. I first assumed all of it, but there are simply too many contradictions. A few of his predictions don't come true. He tells Laurie what she'll "surprise" him by saying soon; he does act surprised when it comes, but how could he not know what he just said? No wonder Laurie gets frustrated communicating with him. Zen has good reasons for paradoxes; what's his excuse?

Ultimately, I suppose the puppeteer is a lazy storyteller who demands that certain things happen no matter how much or how seemingly arbitrarily he has to subvert a demigod's persona. That puppeteer would be Alan Moore.

Comments

[octan.livejournal.com]

As brilliant of a snark that last paragraph was, it's not hard to imagine a world that's essentially governed by predestination without a God. It's a thought experiment I concocted a while ago: When you roll a die, the moment it leaves your hand it's already absolute what number will come up because of the physics involved; there's just no way to figure all the variables and accurately predict which number that is. So it might just as well be random. Now consider that everything in the universe is governed by the same physical laws that are at play when you rolled the die, even the way the human brain works.

The idea of free will is a philosophical one, not a scientific one. And science suggests that a world where it doesn't exist, but seems to anyway, could exist. My guess is that Watchmen works that way, and Doc's precognition works like the form of time travel seen in Harry Potter -- the timeline is fixed, and the actions of anyone able to hop around in it are still subject to that stability.

[deckardcanine.livejournal.com]

I still think it would make more sense for Dr. Manhattan to do what he wants to do rather than see himself helplessly predestined to do something else. Predestination would determine what he wants to do. Everything ought to be systematic, especially when there's no conscious entity working the strings.

And yes, I think that was the low point of The Prisoner of Azkaban.