Loading The Canon
About a week ago I wrote an entry
discussing
Steve Higgins' call for a Comic Book Canon. Since then, Steve
has gone on to take a stab at putting together
his
list of recommended classics (not a permalink). I haven't
made any progress in assembling a list of my own, but a couple readers
did point out several resources that might prove helpful:
Sequential Tart's Recommended
Reading Lists;
Friends
of Lulu's Recommended Reading Lists;
Comics Worth
Reading's List of...Comics Worth Reading; and the
Artbomb site (thanks to
Jason Kimble and Johanna Draper Carlson for the links). One book
that seems to pop up on almost everyone's list is
Watchmen.
In fact,
Eve
Tushnet suggests
Watchmen is worthy of inclusion in "not
solely the comics canon, which is boringly obvious, but the ultimate
canon where all art forms converge." I guess if there's one book
that's sure to make everyone's
list, it would be
Watchmen, right? Well, maybe
not. I recently stumbled upon
this
review of the comic book classic from Steven Berg.
Unlike most comic readers, Steven does not appear to be an unqualified
fan of
Moore's work (Steven does like
League
of Extraordinary Gentlemen considerably more than
Watchmen, and
From Hell even more
than that, so it's not as though Steven is a simple
Moore basher, either).
Although I count myself
among the legion of
Watchmen fans, I
thought Steven raised some
interesting points, so I'll reproduce his "bullet-list review" (yes!
bullet points!!) and respond to his criticisms in
bold.
I've reproduced the
main body of Steven's criticism below, but I've touched up some
misspellings (it's Dr.
Manhattan, not
Manhatten) and
I've
replaced all
nongendered
pronouns with their more traditional counterparts:
- What's up with that pirate comic? First of all, it sucks. Second
of all, it's totally thematically redundant with the main story of Watchmen. It adds nothing that I can see.
OK, it
answers the question, "What comics would people read if superheroes
actually existed?" But we didn't need an entire lame comic story about
zombie pirates written in overwrought purple language to answer that
question.
I thought the pirate comic was pretty good, even taken in its
own right. Not to say that it's great literature, but it certainly
works as a moralistic tale in the vein of old EC horror comics or Twilight
Zone episodes.
I also think the pirate comic contributes to the larger
narrative. First, as Steven said, it answers the question of what
comics might be popular if
superheroes really existed. Second, I believe the pirate
comic adds a bit of complexity to the main storyline. As I read
it, the survivor in the
pirate comic is meant as a rough parallel for Veidt: Someone who
is so wrapped up in his fear of some future horror that he kills his
fellow man in order to save him. As Veidt says to Manhattan at
the end, he dreams of himself as that survivor, swimming out to meet
the pirate ship. Although Veidt protests that he makes himself feel
every death, Veidt has set himself off from humanity by putting himself
above (outside) human morality.
Another interesting complexity that the pirate comic adds, in my
opinion, is the suggestion that Veidt's slaughter of millions was
unnecessary. For if the parallel holds, Veidt's
plan to save humanity was just as superfluous as the survivor's plan to
"save" his
town. In both cases, the threats seemed inescapable. But in
the pirate comic, the threat never came to pass. Perhaps the war
between the U.S. and USSR, which seemed so inevitable, would never have
happened even if Veidt had not intervened.
- Sally Jupiter was a slutty pin-up action girl who was raped and
then had an affair with her rapist. Excuse me, Mr. Moore, could we get
some nuance in here? (I'm probably being unfair. Not all the characters
were as flat as Sally Jupiter, and anyway I'm probably forgetting some
minor roundness in Sally's character. Actually, it's not Sally Jupiter
as an individual character that bothers me, but Moore's tendency to use
sexual abuse as facile characterization. It's also evident in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. It
would
be evident in From Hell, but I'm
willing to
give Moore some slack there because, hey, it's about a
prostitute-murdering crazy Freemason -- it sort of has to involve lots
of sexual abuse stuff.)
This part disturbed me as well, but I don't know if that's a
weakness
on the book's part. I think we're supposed to be upset by the
idea that Sally would have a willing, consensual affair with Blake
after being assaulted by him years before. Sally herself
confesses that she felt ashamed about the affair when confronted by her
daughter's knowledge of events. I think the point Moore was
shooting for was the one that Laurie expresses to her mother:
"People's lives take them strange places. They do strange
things." Although Sally's actions are less than ideal (I
seriously doubt Moore intended to offer up the character as a role
model worthy of emulation), I think her character does capture how
basically good or decent people can make decisions that strike
observers (and themselves) as bad.
I think a distinction has to be drawn between something being
objectionable considered absolutely and something being bad
writing. Often times fictional characters do things that you may
want to rail against, but that doesn't mean that the overall work is
flawed, just that real-life people often are and that gets reflected
back in fiction.
Regarding the charge that Moore tends to subject characters (especially
female characters) to sexual abuse in his stories, I'd
have to re-examine more of his works to address that point. I do
remember being disturbed by the treatment of Evie at the hands of V
when I read V for Vendetta, but that abuse (and it was abuse,
in my opinion, despite V's defense of it and Evie's eventual acceptance
of it) wasn't sexual, and it did serve the story, even if I found it
extremely objectionable.
- Actually, I thought Watchmen
was
pretty good for the first 11 chapters. Then Veidt's plan is revealed.
OK, I'm willing to believe that Veidt is crazy enough and has the
resources to put this plan in motion. However...
I can understand how a work's ending can retroactively ruin the
entire work, especially when the work's ending is essential to
understanding what was going on in the earlier plot. But I
disagree that everything falls apart at the end of Watchmen, as
I'll argue in what follows...
- As far as I can tell, Moore expects us to believe this is
actually a sort of viable plan. Uh huh.
- Like the nations of the Earth are going to just drop the Cold
War and start working together to stop the extraterrestrial threat?
Un-fucking-likely, sez I. Even if you could convince every nation that
it's not just some crazy trick the US is pulling, or something like
that, and you could convince them the best way to deal with the threat
is to create a peaceful world alliance, it'd take some serious
diplomacy to get such an alliance together and coordinated.
I agree with Steven here: This is the weakest part
of Watchmen for me as well. But we have the benefit
of post-9/11
events to aid our analysis. September 11th
showed us that just because other nations may be sympathetic toward
the U.S. in
times of tragedy doesn't mean those nations will abandon their own
interests or aspirations, or trust us in all matters (or that the U.S.
will act any more multilaterally). And there will probably always
be some fringe
elements who would suspect the U.S. of perpetrating any horrific
act on its own citizens. Looking at the events in Watchmen,
it seems
plausible that the USSR might be so shocked by the horror that befell
New York that they would withdraw their troops from Afghanistan out of
sympathy. (I can also see how a nation might use such an
opportunity to press its advantage against an opponent. Which
outcome is more probable is anyone's guess but probably depends on
knowing much more about the situation at hand). But it does seem
unlikely that one isolated event (no matter how horrific) would
suddenly cause two nations with long-standing conflicts to become best
friends forever. In Moore's defense, however, I'm not sure just
how
long-term he intended us
to view the peace on display at the book's end. For one thing,
the threat
of Rorschach's journal being discovered
is the final scene in the book–the implication being that Veidt's
plan will be exposed after all. Even if we discount this (as most
people living in the Watchmen-world probably would were it ever
published), I don't know if anything in the story requires us to assume
that Moore saw this plan as viable. Although we see signs of what
appears to be a peaceful, Russian-influenced U.S. in the last few pages
(a "Burgers 'n' Borscht" fast-food joint; a sign advertising a
screening of Tarkovsky's The
Sacrifice (another nice thematic touch by Moore); a "One World,
One Accord" poster), for all we know, these may be isolated
occurrences, and may all be attempts by Veidt to manipulate the public
(like the "Millennium" billboard also on display, replacing the
now-retired "Nostalgia" campaign). And even though Veidt says he
now wants to "help [Earth] toward Utopia," there's no guarantee that
he'll be successful in his efforts. Consider the example Veidt
offers to demonstrate the brilliant "lateral thinking" of his idol,
Alexander of Macedonia: Alexander didn't succeed in untying the
Gordian
knot; he only succeeded in destroying the problem. If the point
of the Gordian
knot was to untie it, Alexander was a failure, not a success.
Similarly, although Veidt may have
eliminated the immediate problem facing him (the US-USSR tensions in
Afghanistan), he didn't learn anything about "untying the knot"
(establishing lasting peace).
- And by the time it's coordinated, somebody's going to have
figured out Veidt was behind it all along, and that's the end of the
alliance. If crazy fuck Rorschach managed to figure everything out, the
CIA and
the KGB
and whatever other intelligence organizations are going to have it
figured out it about 5 minutes.
Perhaps, but Rorschach is also somewhat of
an...unconventional thinker, so maybe not.
- Related to the above point, Moore has Dan Dreiberg and Laurie
Juspeczyk, after a few minutes of horror, decide they should let Veidt
get away with it all because they apparently think the plan will work.
I don't really see Dan and Laurie being stupid and/or crazy enough to
think the plan will work. I think the point is that there are no
heroes, so Moore has to have Dan and Laurie sacrificing their heroic
ideals and all that, but they should have come up with a way to make
that
point that doesn't make them look like incredible idiots.
I didn't read it as Dan and Laurie necessarily agreeing that
Veidt's
plan would
work (although, as Moore depicted events, Veidt's plan did appear to be
working, at least for the moment). I saw it more as Dan and
Laurie acquiescing to Dr. Manhattan's observation that exposing Veidt's
plot would serve no practical purpose at that point. True, Laurie
and Dan utter overwrought lines such as "Jesus, he was right. All
we did was fail to stop him saving Earth." and "How...how can humans
make decisions like this? We're damned if we stay quiet, Earth's
damned if we don't." But I'd chalk this up to both characters
being overcome with emotion and exhaustion at that point (if you
want an "in-story" explanation).
- Anyway, what's up with this stuff about there being no heroes?
Lots of people do heroic things in real life, so why can't there be
heroes in superheroland? I'm not bitter or cynical enough to appreciate
Watchmen's thematic content.
Although most of the "superheroes" are less than perfectly
heroic, I still think Moore depicts them as trying to do
good/right. Or at least most of the human ones–Dr. Manhattan
seems too far removed from humanity to be considered heroic, and the
Comedian seems too amoral. Even Ozymandias acts in a manner
motivated by what he considers to be right (viewed from a utilitarian
perspective). Further, the scene where Malcolm (the psychiatrist
who treated Rorschach) attempts to intervene in the fight between two
women always struck me as heroic/uplifting. Although his faith in
an objective moral order and higher meaning has been shaken, and
although his estranged wife begs (orders) him not to get involved,
Malcolm soldiers on: "Gloria, please. I have to. In a
world like this... I mean, it's all we can do, try to help each
other. It's all that means anything." Although the
worldview in Watchmen might appear cracked, I don't think it's broken
beyond all hope.
- Dr. Manhattan's murder of Rorschach was despicable plotting on
Moore's part. Up to that point, I thought Dr. Manhattan was about the
only sympathetic character for me in the entire story (on the surface
he's the least human character, but really he strikes me as the most
human in depth, since he's not based on shallow caricatures like the
rest -- "slutty rape victim," "megalomaniacal supervillain," "costume
fetishist," "psychotic vigilante," blah blah blah). Then -- why?
Couldn't Dr. Manhattan just erase their memories or something? It's not
like Dr. Manhattan's powers are limited by anything other than plot
necessity, so Moore must have had some reason for turning Dr. Manhattan
into a cold-blooded killer. What was it?
Well, Dr. Manhattan was already depicted as a cold-blooded
killer earlier in the book (in chapter four he's shown blowing up a
villain's head and the narrative caption reads "The morality of my
activities escapes me.") Plus, Jon cheats on Janey with the
younger Laurie, so it's not as though his motivations were
traditionally moral. In fact, throughout the story, Jon only
seems to respond to logical considerations, not moral ones. As
for why he killed Rorschach rather than somehow else incapacitating
him, perhaps it was because Manhattan still viewed human life in the
abstract: Although he had come to admire life as "the
thermodynamic miracle," there was no indication that particular human
lives meant very much to him. He had already grown distant from
Laurie (his relationships–like his clothing–seemed to be artifacts
that he shed along with his humanity). Perhaps Moore had
Manhattan kill Rorschach to drive home the point that
Manhattan–with the power to create
life as well as destroy it–had become more god than man.
Is this a mark of a classic–to be generating commentary and
controversy years after it was written? Or are we only proving
Jess
Lemon's point for her? ("Find something new to analyze to death,
you blasted
fanboys!") I'll have to find something else–something recent–to
pore over...