23.6.25

Watchmen

Alan Moore, Watchmen
It is a hard book to think about clearly, in the first place because it originates a number of tropes that then entered the world and have been done many times, both better and worse. In the second place, the sheer volume of edgy superheroes makes it difficult to evaluate fairly. I grew tired of superheroes around 2012, it's been a rough decade plus.

I thought pretty well of it halfway through, and was disappointed at the end in a way hard to pinpoint. It was good when the characters were whirring and there was one clear overarching narrative, but then Rorschach gets unmasked and it becomes about too many different things, none of which get full enough attention. But even when something does get full attention, it doesn't get enough development--there might be something to be said for the dynamics of abuse and affection, but it's not said, or the ways parents and children recreate generational trauma, but that's not said either.

But no, the real problem is the ending: a giant squid-alien is teleported to Manhattan and kills half the people, and we are to believe that this somehow brings the world together? And that the cynical heroes are willing to accept the lie of it? 

If you are a certain kind of white person (not exclusively American, cf the Beatles' "Revolution") who made in through the 80s and 90s and 00s, you may well have practiced or continue to practice a politics of nostalgia and cynicism: there once was a time we were united as a people, but we are not now; there once was a time we never had to think about politics, everyone just got along with their neighbors; people who talk about changing things for the better, especially through the government, are best treated derisively because don't you know this is just how things are and it's foolish to try and change them? And thereby the treatment of all of one's life in public as a kind of status positioning game, where you win by caring the least.

And at the bottom, that's what seems to be going on in Watchmen. It acts and looks like cynicism born of experience and trying to hold itself above the fray, but really it's just a baseline contempt for people and a belief in their stupidity. (Ah, but don't you see it's a meta-commentary on people who look to superheroes for their moral clarity, forgetting they're just people and as stupid and brutal as anyone else? Sure, but why write a comic book about it?) It tries to position itself with a certain level of sophistication, but at bottom it's childish and naive; it relies on the reader to supply ideas and context that just aren't there.

And the truth of the matter for me is that even as the world seems increasingly grim, my general faith in and interest in people remains high, and perhaps even increases. I can find plenty of both of those made in correct proportions. Heck, there's even a superhero made just for this attitude: his name's Superman.

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