A watch works on balance. It’s a combination of mechanical function and a jeweler’s sophistication. Old world craftsmen strove to create art within the springs and gears of a gentleman’s timepiece, forging a lasting symbol to that most immortal of elements - the passage of eternity. Take one apart, and the various components confuse as to their import and purpose. Yet when moving together in synchronized control, tension and fluidity forced to perfectly coexist, the universe is kept in check. Alan Moore’s amazing Watchmen graphic novel is a lot like the noble chronometer. In the book, the title refers to a band of rogue vigilantes, the masked avengers inspired by comics to become the guardians of justice and the scapegoats for a society gone mad. But as a work of literary triumph, it’s a series of seminal sections that, when combined, create one Hell of a majestic whole.

The story is told in twelve chapters, each section involving many layers, asides, subplots, suppositions, and conflicting character beats. The main thread sees famed hero The Comedian killed, and a former fellow crime fighter, Rorschach investigating. He believes that the current cultural climate suggests a possible plot against all masked heroes. He fears for the safety of such unusual champions as The Nite Owl, Ozymandias, Silk Specter, and the only one of them with true super powers, Dr. Manhattan. After looking to a past nemesis for answers, Rorschach is framed for murder and arrested. Then the all blue doctor decides to leave Earth to its own devices and takes up residence on Mars. Nite Owl and Silk Specter hope to free Rorschach, and with his help, discover the truth about the Comedian’s death, who was responsible, and what it might have to do with the possible end of the world.

Alan Moore has a right to be pissed, especially when it comes to the big screen interpretations of his pen and ink masterworks. He has seen such stellar titles as From Hell, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and V for Vendetta turned into less than successful dilutions of his ideas. While often matching the visual panache of the artists Moore pairs with, these films find little of the prosaic magic the man offers with his words - and Watchmen appears to be no different, at least from this prerelease arms length appraisal. As a book, it’s a beautiful puzzle, a complicated set of strategies and storytelling devices driven into each other with skill, intelligence, and a sheer force of personal resolve. How Zach Synder will recreate that element in his otherwise faithful version of the tome will be telling indeed.

But there’s more to Moore than simple words. Watchmen is a work of definite ideas, of contrasting geek nation knowledge superimposed over the old Joseph Campbell concept of heroes. Moore makes it very clear, right from the beginning, that we are dealing with a world so paranoid, so bereft of options either diplomatic or rational, that a glowing blue man with unlimited control over matter gives the US the perfect “God and Country” power trip conceit. It’s like reliving the Cold War except that America has aliens as well as nukes. Similarly, the internal fabric is shredding since masked vigilantes are no longer allowed to prowl the streets (by government edict). Moore stresses the differences between the two, using the frailty of humans as the underlying message about the state of the planet and the ineffectualness of individuals like the heroes.

For support, Moore tosses in parts of a proposed autobiography, an incomplete edition of the Right Wing rag The New Frontiersman, a few clippings about the character’s past, and most intriguing, a Tales from the Crypt style funny book featuring a sensationally sick story about a sailor, a shipwreck, and a rescue raft made out of dead, bloated corpses. Of all the material utilized by Moore, this is the most unusual and confusing. We initially see the storyline as a comment on the desperation of man. But as the narrative takes nastier and nastier turns, some of Moore’s message gets lost. In the end, he seems to be suggesting that, no matter how hard it tries, humanity is destined to destroy himself by his own insane hand.

In fact, much of Watchmen is a cleverly disguised anti-nuclear arms race rant. The Nixonian US with its McCarthy-esque ideals, the ineffectual Europeans with their roll over and hide mentality, a still vital Soviet Union relying on Communism as the “great alternative”, and existing within them all, a group of people who used to run around in handmade uniforms, their desire to protect the people perverted by a newfound love of power, popularity, and publicity. Only Dr. Manhattan seems centered and stalwart - and he’s a human A-bomb waiting to go off. Within Moore’s multilayered argument, we see that the pursuit of goals doesn’t necessarily lead to the achievement of same, while showboating strength (and preserving those who can back it up) turns into something very sinister.

But Watchmen is also about characters, about unique individuals with everyday problems that seem to pale in comparison to their alter egos’ grand designs. Moore sets the stage for films like The Dark Knight here, digging deep into the psychology of someone who used to save lives as a career. Most intriguing is Nite Owl (otherwise known as Daniel Drieberg). A fan of ornithology, he becomes the winged crusader when the original hero retires. He still longs for the days of flying in his Owl Ship and acting as the face of justice. Of course, now such actions are illegal, and without them, Dan is lost. He even takes up with Silk Specter partially out of attraction and partially out of a need to reconnect with his crusader past.

All of the ex-heroes here have issues. Rorschach is horrifically antisocial. The Comedian appears to be a wet dream for anyone in love with jingoistic patriotism and Soldier of Fortune magazine. Even the ethereal Dr. Manhattan can’t avoid the sting of losing the one he loves - even if he can foresee the break-up happening before it actually does. Such striking contrasts and intricate narrative devices make Watchmen a magically read (even for those of us not used to having illustrations along with our text). It also makes it a potential problem come movie sign.

Synder and company must find a way to keep the story shuttling along while bringing the depth and diversity that Moore managed on the page. If they can do it, then Watchmen will be more than just a great graphic novel. It will be that celluloid rarity - an adaptation that does the source material proud. If it fails to fulfill its promise, it will be yet another reason why Moore hates film. It’s all a matter of meticulous management and clever creativity. Like the balance of a great timepiece. Like the work of Alan Moore.

Yes, SE&L has been a little lax in its updates the last couple of weeks, what with awards season screenings and end of the year Best Ofs to contend with, but we will be back. After a short, well earned vacation, our staff will start off 2009 by offering a couple of new features - “Off the Shelf”: a look at DVD titles we’ve purchased but never played, and “Signature Statements”: films by producers, directors, stars, and significant crew that mark their lasting cinematic legacy. We’ll also continue our irreverent, sometimes controversial commentary on all things cinema. 

On Monday, 12 January, we will return with another “Leftoverture” update (a round up of un-reviewed specialty titles from December), a peek at Dragon Dynasty’s 2 Disc Super Cop DVD, a look ahead at the most anticipated films of Spring 2009, and a discussion about directors who could really use a career renaissance. Things will get back to normal within a few days, a Friday Film Focus and the typical weekend look at the latest digital offerings a weekly given.

So while we rest up and recharge our critical batteries, free free to click on any of our categorical links and check out our efforts from blog posts past. You’ll be glad you did.

Screw Abraham Maslow! According to this so-called philosopher, the route to self-actualization - you know, the ultimate realization of one’s own value and worth within the context of social and interpersonal dynamics - is via some hoity-toity, ivory tower tested “hierarchy of needs”. For those of you without eggheads, Maslow created a pyramid (kind of like the finishing school four food groups of the soul) and situated the steps to ‘SA’ from bottom to tippy top. In essence, he argued that as long as you fulfilled each and every level of these innate necessities - basic needs, safety needs, psychological needs, etc. - you end up finding your true self…or some goofy PhD facsimile thereof.

Oddly enough, there’s no need to follow the unproven theorems of a cranky thinker circa 1943. Instead, just head out to the movies. If cinema has taught us anything, and the list of lessons is growing larger and more complex every day, it’s that the true path to individual enlightenment is not paved with food, shelter, law, order, family, status, or reputation. Instead, the journey, like the one taken by cubicle monkey Wesley Gibson in Timur Bekmambetov Summer 2008 sensation Wanted (now out on DVD from Universal), is covered with a singular kind of asphalt - the aggressive, ass-kicking kind. All you need is the ability to harness your own innate bad-ass and BINGO! - you’re a simple step away from uncovering the truth about who you really are, and what that person is capable of.

From ancient Greek mythology to the modern, more Lucas-oriented traditions, the geek turned titan, the nobody launched into the clouds of Mt. Olympus has fueled many a heroic narrative. Authors understand the allure of putting the everyman in the place of Hercules, giving the desk jockey or gym class dork an answer to their awkward social acceptance. Before he became the savior of the Jedi, lame-o Luke Skywalker was hanging out with his Tatoonie tool buddies, stuck back on the farm dreaming of taking on the Empire instead of actually signing up and sticking it to Darth Vader and his Stormtroopers. Of course, fate, and a full blown knowledge of the Force, turns him into the last man standing against the devious Dark Side, required to defeat the one man who can make or break his ability to actualize - his father, the aforementioned psycho Sith.

Or what about that computer hacker turned Jesus Christ, Neo, in the Wachowski’s wild Matrix movies. Intrigued by the rebellious nature of Morpheus and his gang of club hoping henchmen, this motherboard butthead dreams of breaking out of his corporate confines and “waking up” from what appears to be a living dream. He soon learns however that he is the “One”, no longer Thomas A. Anderson but a bonafide savior of all mankind. To take on such a challenge, and the ever-persistent attacks of the machine managed Agents, he must learn the truth about his world (it’s a virtual reality simulation), his skills (they’re as limitless as his ability to embrace them), and his limitations (his love for that holy hot sex in spandex sister, Trinity). While there’s no Daddy to defeat this time around, Neo does have to face off against Big Brother, proving to the omniscient mechanisms that he’s more than just a preprogrammed prophecy.

And then there’s the IKEA loving disciple of one Tyler Durdin in Fight Club. Incapable of anything other than ordering overpriced material comforts out of a catalog, our no-name auto recall reject (and future urban terrorist) discovers his proto-polar opposite in a studly, esoteric soap salesman. As they begin living - and fighting - together, the drone becomes the driven, inadvertently targeting the financial structure of society to implode the noxious new world order. They even bed the same psychological mess of a Miss in an attempt to prove their otherwise inert manhood. Before long, our antihero and his hunk realize they are one in the same, ID inverted and supercharged so that the rest of the psyche can feel free from inevitable liability. A bullet through the cheek, and things are suddenly starting to look right.

In all three cases, the wimp inevitably becomes the champ, the marginalized and mistreated turned into something akin to a human nuclear device. It’s the same for Gibson (played with plucky sarcasm and endless charm by a well cast James McAvoy), given over to Google-ing his own name, only to discover he’s the perfect post-millennial example of a nothing.  When Fox (again with the hottie, only this time she’s inhabited by Angelina Jolie, and packs a lot of ammunition efficiency to boot) finds him refilling his anxiety meds, the message is simple - your absentee father is dead, and Cross - the man who killed him - wants you gone as well. This lures Wesley into the mighty maw of the quasi-religious Fraternity, delivering dogma and death skills in several face punching, knife slashing sessions.

Under the Yoda like tutelage of Sloan, a kindly older man with a strict sense of murder-for-hire morality, Wesley discovers his inner assassin. Soon, he’s learning to curve bullets, hug danger, cuddle cruelty, and heal with wax-bath rapidity. Eventually, the truth is told - the man who wants Wesley dead is really his dad, and the entire “school for slayers” was just a set up to help the Fraternity get rid of the diabolic double-Cross. But by that time it’s too late. Wesley has been an apt pupil to say the least. Within days of discovering the reality of his being, he creates a complex plan to take out Sloan and his murderer’s row once and for all. He’ll need some help from the inside, but with his sense of self primed into overdrive, there’s almost no stopping him.

Indeed, Wanted tries to be new and novel - and the stunning actions sequences staged by director Bekmambetov are a marvel to look at - but it can’t escape its heroics heritage. Wesley doesn’t grow a pair of no holds barred balls until he discovers the power of money, and of making people suffer. His initial office encounters with fat boss Janice and best friend/girlfriend f*cker Barry sets things up perfectly for the clever comeuppance everyone will experience later on. Similarly, Sloan is seen as somewhat benevolent and trusting, and yet when the other shoe drops somewhere in the third act, Wesley is left to decide if he’s a man, or a mouse-bomber killing machine. Like his brethren in actualization, Luke, Neo, and Tyler-Twin, the protagonist in Wanted has to suffer and sacrifice to survive. He must face death and personal loss head on, if only to turn into the individual he’s destined to become.

Along the way, we are introduced to the creative clichés buried in the a.k.s.a. genre (elements acknowledged as necessary in the DVD’s intriguing added content). Wesley goes through a period of training, learning the lessons of the Fraternity. Substitute past preparations like the ways of the Force, the virtual dojo, or the sweaty, blood spattered basements of various Fight Clubs, and you start to see the pattern. There’s almost always a mentor involved - be he an ex-Jedi schooling yet another young pupil in his folklore ways, a believer desperate to train the new Messiah, or a manly macho mug skilled at doing everything his alter ego is incapable of. Toss in various babes - princesses, killers, super hero honeys in skin tight leather - and you’ve got the makings of a movie.

But the reason that Wanted is so superior to other ordinary action fodder is its desire to make you think. All throughout the narrative, Wesley wonders aloud about his sorry lot in life. He confronts his lack of backbone, and questions the very fabric of his false existence. His initial reaction to Fox is one of panic, followed by the giddy kind of joy a child must experience when something new and exciting enters their sheltered sphere of influence. By the time he’s learning gut-level courage from The Repairman, knife skills from The Butcher, and firearms from The Gunsmith, he’s no longer questioning himself. Instead, the last line of the movie is aimed at the audience, asking them to look into the motion picture mirror and ‘reflect’ on who they really are.

Like Star Wars, and The Matrix, and Fight Club, Wanted is propelled by as many concepts as car crashes, redefining the genre as it embraces and enhances it. Bekmambetov is wildly inventive as a filmmaker, fleshing out his storyline with quirky moments of brutal slapstick, sick humor, and that all important element for any bullet ballet - slo-mo stuntwork. By mimicking experts at the style like the master of the reduced frame rate, John Woo, Bekmambetov enhances the character’s inner voyage. By the end, we understand the misbegotten bravado, the need to prove to everyone that he is better, smarter, stronger, craftier, and about as whole and individually realized as any person can be.

Few of these films backtrack on the heroics. In the case of Wars and Matrix, both took their icons and gave them added humanizing aspects like doubt, fear, and that always lethal combination of love and honor. It will be interesting to see where Wesley goes should a rumored Wanted sequel ever materialize. He’s a hitman with a lot of potential. In the meantime, we can re-watch our anxious account manager go from lox to legitimate in the span of two tripwire hours. Behind the edge of your seat veneer and raging amounts of filmic testosterone, Wanted is just another example of self-actualization via a well placed foot in someone’s behind. Maslow may need several strangulated steps to get to where he’s going, but a prophet like Wesley Gibson only needs one. It’s the pyramid or the punch-out - you decide. As with any journey into self-discovery, the decision is yours.

In case you missed it, here’s a chance to catch up with PopMatters 2008 Fall Preview

Talk, Talk, Talk: The PopMatters Fall 2008 Preview

Enjoy!

In general, it will be known as the ‘Summer of the Bat’. Christopher Nolan brought the Caped Crusader back for another crime epic experience, and walked away with nearly a BILLION dollars worldwide as a result. At $500 million (and counting) The Dark Knight was clearly 2008’s big box office winner - and it was also the Superhero Season’s most critically acclaimed effort as well. Indeed, amidst all the Hulks and Hancocks, raging red demons and literal jet setting playboys, Hollywood stuck to the standard formulas - sort of. While there was the typical animated averageness, two clever cartoons pushed the boundaries of the artform. Names like Apatow and Argento strived to score audience appreciation, while the Wachowskis walked away with the award for most misunderstood movie of the year.

Of the 53 films SE&L sat through this summer – and we did miss a couple along the way (sorry American Teen, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, and The House Bunny) – finding 10 worthy of making the grade was actually fairly tough, especially this year. There were so many picks that practically begged to be mentioned. In general, the determination for inclusion in based on the ‘carry over’ syndrome. If a movie moved us, touched us, intrigued us, inspired us, entertained us, angered us, or surprised us in such a way that we ‘carried over’ that sentiment for days, sometimes weeks after seeing a film, it’s passed an important test.

A critic can view up to a dozen movies in a week, and differentiating between them all can sometimes be as simple (or better yet, simplistic) as a gut or kneejerk reaction. But when they remain in your mind, when you constantly find yourself replaying scenes and revisiting ideas that the storyline or characters inspired, it’s an omen that can’t be ignored. They function as mental place cards in a mind overflowing with performances, images, and words. So when SE&L began it’s basic backwards glancing, we remembered the experiences we had during these hot, humid days, and the ones still stationed in our brains got the call up.

For the 10 films selected here, more than a couple are going to cause an uproar. Populist opinion – something we tend to sidestep in favor of actual film analysis – has confirmed that our choices chaffs the average mainstream member of the audience in ways that demand unreasonable retribution. Granted, you may feel free to take umbrage with anything we champion or chide, but this is not some kind of last word consensus on creative spark or motion picture ingenuity. It’s just opinion, albeit one based on a perspective of decades, not mere years, and several thousand, not a couple dozen, film going experiences. You may not agree, and that’s fine. But to quote Monty Python, the automatic nay-saying of someone else’s point is not an argument.

In the meantime, here’s SE&L’s choices for the Best Films of the Summer of 2008:

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The Worst
And now, the bottom of the barrel, the cinematic scrapings that reek of lame scripts, poor direction, bad acting, ill-conceived conceptualizing, and all around motion picture mediocrity. While there are a few films missing from this list (like the latest shoddy spoof Disaster Movie…how prophetic), the ten titles here are representative of the filmic funk that soiled the Cineplex this season:

*****

*****

*****

*****

*****

*****

*****

*****

*****