Why I Can’t Write About “Watchmen” (But I’m Gonna Anyway)

At this point I’m not sure if there’s anything to be gained by adding my voice to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir of people pontificating on the virtues and faults of Zach Snyder’s film of Watchmen.

But what the hell. (Note: pervasive spoilers throughout.)

The trouble is, I can’t really write about it. Not properly, and not after this first viewing, anyway.

The thing about being a nerd, and especially a nerd girl, is that once you find other nerds, you tend to get tribal about it. You’re the cluster of bespectacled kids hanging out by the auditorium doors at lunch. Later, maybe, you’re the college theatre company, drunkenly quoting Monty Python and the Holy Grail at cast parties, secure in the knowledge that everyone will understand what you mean (once it was just you and the kids outside the auditorium doors; now, at college, it’s everyone. And then years later, you’re in a packed theatre at 11:55 PM on March 5, positively gleeful over the fact that you got your tickets for the “five minutes to midnight” showing of Watchmen, and when Tim League (resplendent in a blue unitard and blue paint) announces “THIS IS NERD CENTRAL TONIGHT”, you, and the other some-hundred-some-odd people in the theatre, scream your enthusiastic agreement at the top of your lungs. You order the “Comedian Cookie”, a bright yellow confection with the trademark smileyface and blood smear painted on. Someone a few seats down from you orders the Dr. Manhattan Milkshake, in which someone went to incredible lengths to dye the exact color of blue that John Higgins used for Dr. Manhattan, twenty-three years ago. And the moment that bright, eyeburning yellow appears on the screen, you all fall silent.

It’s not just about you watching a movie anymore. It’s not a press screening. It’s not you at a cruddy suburban theatre surrounded by people who have never picked up a comic book in their lives. It’s about you and your tribe.

At times like this, critical faculties go right out the window. It was a solid ten minutes into the movie before I realised I’d been quietly squeaking with glee every time something I recognised came on screen—Look, that’s a Vargas Girl version of Silk Spectre! OMG, it’s THE PHOTO of the MInutemen! Holy crap, that’s Dollar Bill’s death! OMG, it’s a blimp advertising the Gunga Diner!—rather than, you know, actually watching the movie.

Having realised this, I tried to turn fangirl brain off. Didn’t really work.

So I can’t really write about Watchmen, not properly. At least not until I’ve had a chance to see it a second time, and the fangirl brain has had a chance to take a fucking chill pill.

Still, I might as well toss out a few observations. It’s not perfect. I liked it a lot, but some things felt too painfully condensed: Rorschach and his psychiatrist for one; and the Big Reveal of Laurie’s father for another. The high points were there, but they didn’t have time to build properly for the right emotional affect. It seems churlish to complain about Snyder not spending enough time on things in a 2:45 movie, but the treatment of some very big things felt more cursory than I would have liked. Maybe the director’s cut answers this complaint.

The other thing that I’ve been debating with Bruce for the last three days is the violence. Briefly, I suppose my problems with it can be summarized thus: why was I more-or-less okay with the brutally graphic scene of the Comedian’s murder, but had a huge problem with Dan giving a guy a compound arm fracture with the bone sticking out?

The difference, for me, is violence that serves the story and violence that’s there to—what? Be cool? By the time the Comedian went through the window, I think I actually had a lump in my throat; for me, there was something terribly sad about the entire scene. But I couldn’t react to the alleyway brawl in any way other than “Oh god, did we really need to see that?”

Going back to the source material, it’s clear from the half-dozen or so frames that Laurie and Dan are kicking the living crap out of these guys: in one frame, you see Dan in the foreground smashing a guy’s nose in a splatter of blood. The message is clear: it may look like Laurie and Dan have gone soft, but underneath it all, they’re still costumed heroes (and they still get off on the heroics, about which more later).

In the film, there were two moments that stood out for me: one being the aforementioned arm fracture, and the other being where Laurie drives a knife into an attacker’s neck. At that point I was thinking, okay, enough. I get it. I get that they’re still badasses. Do I have to see this? And what’s more, do I have to see it in Snyder’s goddamn fast-slow-fast camera trick, for which I have an enormous hate-on? (Honestly, man, freshen up your bag of tricks some.)

It’s arguable that, in showing really graphic violence, Watchmen is having some “fun” at the expense of PG-13 superhero movies—the sorts of movies where even when the Joker rams a pencil into a man’s eye, there’s no blood. Sort of a, “you want violence, fanboy? HERE’S YOUR GODDAMN VIOLENCE.” There’s a point to be made as well: these are our ostensible “heroes”, and look at the things that they’re capable of. At least, that’s the interpretation that gives Snyder the benefit of the doubt. The other interpretation is that it actually is meant as a thrill-kill, a charge for the not-particularly-critical audience member who just wants their action scene, and cheers the carnage on.

You can probably guess which side of the argument I’m tilting towards.

Well … for my next trick, I was going to write at length about the “Hallelujah” sex scene, but frankly that would end up sounding a lot like the violence discussion (basically: “if this is meant satirically or critically, you just got to have your [cheese]cake and eat it too”), so for now I’m just going to say that I really hope Snyder meant the scene to be funny, because at this point in pop culture history, there is no goddamn excuse for setting any sex scene to “Hallelujah”.

I just devoted a pretty high word count to what is really a very small fraction of the movie, so I suppose it’s worth noting again that, for the most part, I did like it. It’s flawed. But I liked it. And this is coming from someone who, years ago, scoffed and said she’d believe the movie was coming out when she was standing in line with the ticket in her hand.

Well, it happened. I think, for the most part, my tribe is happy, and I’m oddly glad for that. And sometime soon I think I need to revisit the movie so I can watch it properly, and see how these initial impressions all stand up.

***
ETA: This guy said what I was trying to, and said it better. Go read. Although he doesn’t give much consideration to the possibility (which I plan to address later) that
Comic!Watchmen:Superhero Comics::Movie!Watchmen:Superhero Movies
which admittedly puts the film’s excesses into a different frame of reference. But more on this point later.

Stock

Note that I chose not to go for the obvious “taking stock” pun. You’re welcome.

I’ve become one of Those People, whose freezer is full of random animal carcasses and bits. Some are cooked and stripped of most of their meat, some are trimmings. I have a bag containing a couple of lamb marrowbones and a bunch of beef bones, a bag containing short rib bones stripped of their meat and frozen raw, and until today, a chicken carcass and a bunny carcass. The former had been roasted, and the latter braised.

Today I bought a small rabbit at the farmer’s market. The innards, loin, tenderloin, and legs have all been separated and are now awaiting what comes next for them (deep frying for the innards, a sort of rabbit saltimbocca for the loin and tenderloin, and rabbit rillettes for the legs), and the carcass is now in the stockpot with the aforementioned other carcasses, an onion, some carrots, some celery, and spices.

Once this is done, I plan to reduce the stock down to a concentrate, which will then get portioned and frozen. And it will take up a lot less room in the freezer than the carcasses did, that’s for sure.

I’ve got a lot of things I need to write about, food-wise. The classes I’ve been taking with Dai Due, braising rabbit, making pasta, and growing one’s own food. Also have got a bunch of comics-related stuff to write about as well. Watch this space.

I believe this is what is known as “going too far”.

Tonight at Dai Due’s “Other Bits” class, I got a chance to peruse Au Pied de Cochon – The Album by Martin Picard. Picard is a nutbar Quebecois chef recently featured on Bourdain’s TV show No Reservations, in which he was notable for serving up a “reconstructed pig” (in which various cooked pig parts were served on a board in a configuration corresponding to more or less where they were on the critter) which was devoured by him and his shirtless staff.

It’s a remarkable book, well worth the effort to track down. It’s full of warped little drawings and extravagant photography, and more foie gras recipes than you’ll ever see anywhere.

Including a recipe for foie gras poutine.

Poutine is a classic Quebecois comfort food that I’ve never had the chance to try; it consists of french fries topped with cheese curds and gravy. Picard, madman that he is, takes the fries and curds and tops them with—not just a sauce made from foie gras, but an enormous slab of the stuff as well.

To borrow a phrase: this is wrong and hurting people. In one of the best possible ways, perhaps, but oh. my. god.

The recipe, and a picture. May not be safe for small children or those with heart conditions.