It’s the day after I’ve seen Watchmen. I’ve waited just over 10 years to see this movie. Ever since I first picked up the book, I’ve wanted to see what it would look like on the screen. Like many, I was fearful that it was impossible. That anyone who tried would be doomed to failure. The trailers for Zack Snyder’s epic brought new hope. Here was a man who appeared to get it. The expectations began to rise. If this was good, then there would be much rejoicing. If it was a tragedy? There would be blood. Oh yes, there would be blood.
So it’s the next day. Am I ecstatic or are my hands stained with human bean juice? Well, actually neither.
Don’t you see the futility of asking me to save a world that I no longer have any stake in?
Say there is a God. Say he did create the universe. Is he still around? Is he still at work in his creation? Or did he wind it up and leave it to run by himself while he nicked off for a beer?
What makes a hero? Is it just enough to put on a costume and declare yourself to be one of the good guys? Or do you have to possess a certain moral fortitude? Watchmen is a work that asks that question. What is the difference between a costumed vigilante who fights crime and a one that commits crime? Where is the line between Batman and villainy? In Watchmen #8, our “heroes” have to make some tough decisions. And their actions will have consequences.
One of the things that sets Watchmen apart from other superhero comics, especially comics prior to 1986, is its treatment of sex. Watchmen #7is all about sex. Not some cheap an tawdry porno orgy comic book, but a mature approach to two consenting adults exploring sex. Two adults who also dress up in costumes and fight crime.