Absolute Watchmen Review

The greatest comic-book ever written has been made even better.

by Hilary Goldstein

��

Moore's tale of a world without heroes is eerily relevant to today's America. Set in 1985, eight years after costumed vigilantes were outlawed, Watchmen is part murder mystery, part political drama. When America's only regulated super-being, the god-like Dr. Manhattan, decides to leave Earth, Russia begins a series of bold moves that could lead to nuclear proliferation. While the world at large is facing crisis, someone has begun killing the retired costumed heroes of America. A few of the old guard begin an investigation, one that leads to a shocking revelation and an unexpected finale.

In Watchmen, Moore shows us a world that has gone completely mad. Not only is the escalation of Cold War hostilities and the idea of nuclear annihilation insane, but the characters driving this tale are all touched with madness. Nixon, the perfect mixture of power and paranoia, has managed to remain President through the '80s. Everyone's favorite hero, Rorschach, is a violent, delusional sociopath. Even the pragmatic Dr. Manhattan cannot escape the manic nature of the human condition. It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world and Moore depicts its darkest corners.

Watchmen is the greatest display of Alan Moore's gift for juxtaposition. Employing parallel storytelling, often through a kid reading an old swashbuckler comic book, Moore manipulates the emotional pitch of Watchmen. A great deal of time is devoted to the common man on one specific street corner. It seems, at times, almost like a waste, distracting from the murder-mystery plot. The relevancy of one street corner, of the lives of a handful of New Yorkers, becomes tragically clear in the final two issues. Much like D.M. Thomas' novel, The White Hotel, Watchmen illuminates the ordinary lives of a few so that we can understand the tragedy that strikes the millions of others just like them.

As much as the story of Watchmen shaped the future of comics, Dave Gibbons' art altered the way people viewed the graphic medium. Gibbons isn't afraid to leave central characters off-panel or focus on an object in the foreground, making the speaking characters visually obsolete. There's little action in Watchmen, a story that runs more than 350 pages, so Gibbons uses cinematic tricks to keep our focus through pages upon pages of dialogue. My favorite is a short scene between Nite-Owl and Silk Spectre, where the two are pushed to the edges of the panel and we watch their conversation unfold in the mirror behind them. Gibbons' art is the perfect compliment to Moore's words. It's hard to imagine Watchmen with different partners.