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2009 Film Review - Watchmen
 
 
April 1, 2009
By Eric M. Scharf
 
"The Media Magnate" has been a comic book fan for years, particularly of those books that successfully marry quality visuals and robust story-telling, filled with one gut-wrenching irony after another . . . where vulnerability and humanity are always right on the heals of the impossible and the unimaginable.

The Media Magnate has been waiting for just as many years to see the film industry finally develop the nerve – or be convinced of the financial incentive – to begin bringing many of the grittier, more mature, comic book-derived themes to the silver screen.

The desired transformation began the moment the Green Goblin cut Peter Parker’s forearm in Sam Raimi's “Spider-Man” in 2002 – showing fans everywhere that superheroes are susceptible to (all or instances of) the dreaded human condition, sometimes being vulnerable (to paying rent, being late for a date, or desperately needing a haircut for that date) and – for all their incredible gadgets, impossible super powers, and escapist hideouts – can be generally affected like much of society.

“Batman Begins” arrived in 2005 – supplanting fan favorite Michael Keaton's 1989 portrayal with a slick, substantive Bruce Wayne . . . and a dynamic, deadly Dark Knight. Christopher Nolan treated all but the most emotionally-challenged to a long overdue departure (or Warner Brothers apology for and) from Joel "Extra Cheese" Schumacher's "Batman Forever" and "Batman & Robin." Moviegoers see Christian Bale's interpretation (of the billionaire businessman) struggle to come to grips with his own mortal limitations in being unable to protect those closest to him, even with all of his inherited financial might. He discovers his ultimate solution, however – on his way down a destructive and terminal path – which allows him to combine his formidable fighting skills and material resources while requiring only one 'small' thing of himself: become more than human without becoming inhuman. Can he maintain enough clarity to remember where to draw the line between being a vigilante hero for the people and becoming the very villain(s) he has sworn to stop? How dark will he become? The “Dark Knight,” indeed.

“300” bludgeoned its way into our lives in 2006, taking grit to an entirely new level and creating a potential new wave of history teachers, even if the history portrayed in this film was admittedly enhanced for our pleasure. The mere existence of this film alone – with all of its bare feet and bloody battles – is convincing enough that moviegoers will be none-the-poorer if they never see another brazen blood bath of a horror film again.

The term 'graphic novel' will never again simply be defined as a bigger and better extension of good ol’ fashioned comic books. Everything about a graphic novel – from the length of story to depth of plot to richness of characters to quality of inking to pop of color to physical size to price to quality of paper (for both cover and pages) – is and will continue to be different and greater.

Other comic book-based films – such as Iron Man in 2007 – have taken a milder-but-still-potent approach in adding to the film industry’s 'personal growth' experience. Not all comic book-to-film adaptations – to be clear – (need to) involve urgent, Thunderdome, survival of the fittest scenarios in order to better bring them to life. The more variety in film adaptations – to match the variety of their comic book source material – the better.

The Media Magnate 'simply' wishes to watch one (or more, many, MANY MORE) of these adaptations and leave the theater believing that these stories, events, and characters are even reasonably possible, especially in the case of a investigation-minded, physically fit, hand-to-hand combat-ready, weapons-trained human dressed as a costumed crime fighter. And who among the millions of comic book (and billions of feature film) fans would not wish for the same thing?

No such comic-book-adapted film, however, has yet gone for the gusto in the same way as has been achieved by "Watchmen." There was plenty of incentive to see this film and – considering the same director who helmed 300, Zack Snyder, was steering this ship – there was additional intrigue to see if Mr. Snyder would, again, push the dirty, grimy envelope or acquiesce to film execs fearful of an always-possible public backlash for (GASP!) another R-rated graphic novel adaptation.

After all, there is always someone 'out there' who will be screaming “Is it not enough that we know good ole’ Dagwood likes big sandwiches? Do we really want to know the kind of mammoth meat contained in his sandwiches, too?” Why, yes, WE DO.

The Media Magnate had only once read through the 1986-1987 "Watchmen" 12-issue comic book mini-series (written by Alan Moore, penciled-and-inked by Dave Gibbons, and colored by John Higgins) before seeing the Hollywood embodiment. The resultant vague memories allowed for viewing the film with an open mind . . . minus the pre-existing paperback postulations which have historically haunted so many silver screen successions.

While Gibbons and Higgins quite appreciated and enjoyed Zack Snyder's adaptive (and collaborative) effort to bring their illustrative work (further) to life, Moore planned to "spit venom all over" Hollywood's handling of one of his most fan-cherished stories. Moore has long-standing legal and philosophical issues with DC (and – in turn – Warner Bros), and Snyder – no matter his very best and most respectful of intentions – was going to be collateral damage.

 
 
 
 
 
Before delving into the film’s story (or – in the case of "Watchmen" – group psychological evaluation), the visual quality is rich and vivid, delivering a satisfyingly immersive experience, with characters you can reach out and grab, grimy surfaces you can touch, blood, sweat, and tears you can feel, jet fuel and bad breath you can smell, and gritty, emotionally-charged voices you can hear, not to mention the near panel-for-panel match to (most of) the original material.

The mix of slick-modern superhero costumes and trench(coat)-level 'get it done' outfits is a nice departure from the sterile, (almost) always-clean costumes on display within the current "X-Men" film series. Some heroes absolutely need to look the part while others (in sensationally soiled civvies) just look at you and say, “Bring it.”

But enough about the "sugar-coated topping" – as Marvel's "Blade" once said, and onto the underbelly.

"Watchmen" takes place in an alternate universe in 1985, where the United States is still embroiled in the Cold War with the U.S.S.R., Nixon is still President of the United States and – with term limits abolished in part due to his success in Vietnam – he is on his fifth term in office.

 
 
Tensions are as high as most Americans can remember, the doomsday clock is set at five minutes to midnight, and nowhere in sight is the statement “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”

 
 
Vigilante superheroes – in the flashback lead-up to 1985 – happened on the scene and grew in prominence from 1940 through 1960, culminating in their much-needed participation in the U.S. winning the Vietnam War. Soon after, the superheroes learn that – unless they are willing to work for the U.S. government – they will effectively be legislated into retirement through the Keene Act. War-time appreciation – when it exists – continues to have its limits.

The plot is established in the midst of this forced retirement, when an established super hero-turned-U.S.-government-mercenary – Edward Blake / the Comedian (played by Jeffrey Dean Morgan) – is brutally murdered. He puts up a valiant fight, but he is overmatched by a masked intruder who tosses the Comedian through the plate-glass window of his own high rise apartment, leaving a bloody mess on the street below, which prominently sports one of his patented smiley face pins, stained with the Comedian's "bean juice," and tormenting his colleagues one final time.

 
 
The Comedian – as we come to understand him – is far less a literal comedian (with whom his colleagues can laugh at the expense of a common enemy), and far more a complete jackass who – with his Punisher-like combat skills – always seems to go two steps further than his government-issued orders require, and who mercilessly hee-haw’s at the misery his actions cause. He has no hero complex, goes to work with a smile on his face, and does not take kindly to anyone expecting him to take responsibility for his actions.

 
 
Nonetheless, torment turns to paranoia as all but two members of the former Watchmen are on high alert about their own safety – even with their secret identities hidden away in retirement – with the most incorruptible and relentless of them all, Walter Kovacs / Rorschach (played by Jack Earle Haley), leading the search for a possible super hero serial killer or an organization of killers. It is only fitting for the most strong-willed of "The Bad News Bears" to make his triumphant return to the silver screen as the equally-willful and undeniable Rorschach.

 
 
The film adaptation of one of the most celebrated graphic novels of all time – at this point – is already drowning in grit, keeping the pedal to the metal for the duration, with the not so subtle reminder that time waits for no one . . . and no good or bad deed ever goes unpunished. Ferris Bueller once said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

The further Rorschach digs, the clearer the murderous trail becomes, the faster each event unfolds, and the more on-edge the Keene Act-defying vigilante heroes (and moviegoers alike) become. The sad irony is that – while the Watchmen are determined to find the answer for their fallen comrade and obligated to protect themselves from the very same fate – the closer the heroes get towards the source of their troubles, the more they question their collective purpose, and the less they like what they find.

The Watchmen have only each other to relate to and rely on in a world not at all richly endowed with super heroes. Each of them is desperate – in their own way – to grab onto something that is more than just their now-fragmented team, to belong to something that represents more than just an association of oddballs, and hold on for dear life (which is a common thread that weaves together most-but-not-all superhero stories).

And their government-enforced exile, essentially, displaces all of them, creating an internalized tension that grows by the day.

The Comedian – being a government-sponsored hero – is not restricted by the retirement rule, but he contributes to his teammates’ difficulties early and often, far in advance of his death. He follows his orders with such single-minded (and admittedly reckless) focus that – by the time he finally comes to grips with what he has 'accomplished' on his missions – it is too much for him to digest all at once, causing him to crack, spill secrets (to a retired super villain no less), and unknowingly triggering his own termination. Live hard and die hard(er).

Rorschach – by (extreme) contrast – has never been empowered by government-funded opportunities to fight crime, whether as an officially approved superhero or as a vigilante for whom authorities occasionally turn a blind eye in order to keep their hands clean(er). Rorschach has only ever been energized by his all-consuming perspective of humanity as moral or immoral, black or white, with rapidly diminishing interest in the circumstantial gray. While Rorschach's miserable childhood forged his fractured foundation, the life event that pushes him completely over the edge involves a kidnapped little girl he is unable to save from being dismembered by her captor (who then feeds her remains to a couple of man's best friends).

There is stifling irony in Rorschach’s world view of humanity as the single greatest obstacle to his mission of cleansing Earth of immorality. The level of purity he insists on seeing from imperfect beings could not exist in any form that would reasonably satisfy his definition. If Rorschach allows himself a moment of clarity to see his cleansing mission of going from 'one ivory tower to one street corner at a time' will never end – especially with potential interference from one or more of the Watchmen – he would practically beg to be put out of his misery.

Rorschach’s perspective on humanity makes for an odd-if-intriguing pairing with someone he considers a good friend, his best friend, and – perhaps – his only friend in Daniel Dreiberg / Nite Owl (II), played by a real hoot in the rangy Patrick Wilson. They both prefer to – first – investigate a given crime scene, but the approach is where their similarities end. They both excel in deadly hand to hand combat, but the compact Rorschach is much more of a bruiser while the larger Nite Owl is more of a tactician. They appear to accept each other without much precondition and – without much verbal acknowledgement – they tend to agree to disagree (and agree again) on how to best engage the very people they have vowed to protect from evil. Yin and yang, manage and maim, read and react. Nite Owl and Rorschach.

Two key scenes – when tensions are already particularly heightened – perfectly demonstrate their demented portrayal of "Laurel and Hardy."

The first scene occurs in Nite Owl's subterranean hideout where Rorschach picks on Nite Owl's compassion-first perspective.

Rorschach: "You forgot how we do things, Daniel. You've gotten too soft. Too trusting, especially with women."

Nite Owl: "Ok. No. Listen! I've had it with THAT. God! Who do you . . . WHO do you think you are, Rorschach? You, you, you live off people while insulting them! And no one complains, because they think you're a goddamn LUNATIC! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, man."

Rorschach: "Daniel . . . you are a good friend. I know it can be difficult with me sometimes."

Nite Owl: "Forget it . . . it's ok, man. Let's do it your way."

Nite Owl and Rorschach take Archie out for an interrogatory run, with the audience being led to assume it will – once again – result in Rorschach taking it too far and Nite Owl stepping in to diffuse the situation.

In the very next scene, "Rorschach and Nite Owl walk into a bar," asking if anyone knows of Pyramid Transnational. One not-so-smart patron draws the wrong attention to himself. After being mistakenly antagonized by that patron, Rorschach questions him (while crushing a glass in the patron's hand and snapping a couple of his fingers for mouthing off in-between painful gasps of useful information).

Rorschach and Nite Owl are about to leave when they notice and stop to watch a news bulletin announcing former "Minute Man" – and original Nite Owl – Hollis Mason is found murdered in his home. The reporter mentions bystanders seeing members of the local gang – the "Knot Tops" – leaving the area right around the estimated time of death.

The normally reserved Nite Owl – who looked up to Mason and considered him a great friend (even a father figure) – suddenly looses it, wheels on a member of the Knot Tops (minding his own business at a table just a few feet away), and demands he tell him who was responsible for Mason's murder.

 
 
The Knot Topper stupidly decides to give Nite Owl some unadvisable lip, defiantly spouting off about his civil rights, but – as if "overcome by bloodlust" in another Snyder film – Nite Owl has none of it. The Knot Topper is already on thin ice, and shooting his mouth off opens up a rare powder keg of (the normally reserved) Nite Owl.

Nite Owl beats the Knot Topper within an inch of his life before Rorschach – as if shot from an extremely black comedy cannon – suddenly restrains Nite Owl and (in all seriousness) says: "Daniel! Not in front of the civilians."

 
 
Nite Owl’s situation – for all of his complex gadgetry – is the simplest yet no-less frustrating. Outside his nifty nest – whether tinkering with tech under his two-flat or taking to the night sky in his awesome aircraft (called Archie, short for Archimedes, Merlin's pet owl) – he is the very capable yet reluctant warrior. Even after having tangled talons with so many villains, Nite Owl is still uncomfortable in his own feathers (and admittedly feeling less-than without his tech). His read-and-react mentality explains why Nite Owl is content with the relentless Rorschach being the aggressor. That is, of course, until Rorschach (inevitably) takes his information extracting tactics too far, causing Nite Owl to attempt to 'break it up' (and hope Rorschach is willing to oblige).

Nite Owl is forced to molt his hesitation in order to help Rorschach solve the Comedian's murder for the greater good of the team. It took Nite Owl's jump-started relationship with Laurie Jupiter / Silk Spectre (II) – played by Malin Akerman – to give him the confidence to finally break out of his rather impotent daily routine, succumb to his burning desire to resume the role of Nite Owl (without fear of government reprisal), and attempt to make a difference alongside his fellow vigilantes.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Silk Spectre is the one Watchmen hero who reminds of a child nurtured down a specific career (path by her single parent) – at which she clearly excels – even though she may never have been interested in pursuing it. The story of a great many children involves the absence of parents who encourage them to (reasonably) find their own way – but when a child is forced to become a super hero, it seemingly stands in contrast to what the majority of modern day children experience.

 
 
Silk Spectre's mother – Sally Jupiter / the original Silk Spectre (played by Carla Gugino) – operated as a crime fighter during a time period when liberal women were not a welcomed part of society. Her mother – in her own way – empowered women everywhere to believe they could stand up for themselves, accomplishing more than just the status quo of the time.

 
 
Sally was determined to see Laurie follow in her own crime-fighting footsteps. She (understandably) saw her daughter – fair or not, selfish or not – as the very best vehicle for passing on fighting skills and (eventually) equal / near-equal stature among those who would be her future male crime-fighting companions. Laurie certainly has the same refined-and-deadly fighting skills to put the bad guys in their place, and she looks equally good putting them there, as well.

One would think that – even in mandated retirement – the government might approach her with (secret) agent opportunities of some kind. For all the skills Laurie brings to the table, however, consider that if not for being the (hopefully) humanizing love interest of Jon Osterman / Dr. Manhattan (played by Billy Crudup), and without an eventual Nite Owl connection – or any normalized relationship with her estranged mother – Silk Spectre potentially faces a rather isolated existence.

Never to be confused with Dr. Detroit, what does Dr. Manhattan – the most brilliant-and-powerful entity known to humankind – do to remain interested in Earth, its inhabitants, their commonalities and their (seemingly petty) conflicts? Does it matter that Dr. Manhattan spends half of the film transporting himself around town without so much as a loin cloth? If you ask him which he prefers – boxers or briefs – you might discover that, when you wield as much infinite power as he does, the basic needs of modern day humanity (food, water, clothing, shelter, community, education, sense of purpose, transportation) laughably hold no value. That is, unless a god with a still-intensely-curious scientific mind is in need of friendship, companionship, or entertainment from his former human peers (all but perhaps one of whom he views in the same way as "the world's smallest flea," but more on that later).

 
 
The end of his relationship with humanity begins the very moment scientist Jon Osterman is transformed into Dr. Manhattan – by way of being trapped within a 'Intrinsic Field Subtractor (IFS)' – within the army base where he and his colleagues perform their critical work in the field of nuclear physics. Osterman's body is disintegrated on the spot, without a trace. His colleagues grieve, time passes, and then, suddenly, various internal elements of his body begin reappearing, reconstructing as if lightning strike hallucinations and – with each (frightening to the public) bolt from the blue – more elements compose themselves and come together . . . until he is finally 'whole' once more.

 
 
The idea that Osterman does not run, err, float off screaming insanely into the wild (fluorescent) blue yonder – considering his sudden massive awareness of 'everything' around him (including on-demand sight into both his past and future) – is impressive even if the reason is simply because Osterman is struggling to regain his bearings.

 
 
 
 
Osterman succumbs to the (immediate but not perpetual) need for more structure through the 'welcoming arms' of the Department of Defense (DoD), assuming his desire to blunt his own confusion and receive exploratory goals towards handling his new-and-terrifying abilities. All the DoD requires in return for "shaping (Osterman) into something gaudy, something lethal" is Osterman's willingness to help his countrymen in times of war – to further their weapons development efforts – and to give them his naming rights. He is thusly branded Dr. Manhattan . . . as a historically horrifying deterrent to enemy nations familiar with the Manhattan Project.

 
 
Dr. Manhattan's quickly-achieved control over his galactic gift triggers the ultimate responsibility of which was referenced earlier. He can choose to ignore – or be of determined purpose to – humanity. He can be good, willfully oblivious, or evil towards a race of largely ignorant, navel-gazing, self-destructive beings who will forevermore reside on an incalculably different, lower plane of existence.

This concept conjures memories of Galactus, the Beyonder, Thanos, Darkseid, and Uatu the Watcher: all incredibly powerful cosmic entities and each with a different approach to using and maintaining their abilities . . . whether or not that involves synthesizing planetoids for consumption, toying with the lives of simple beings, wreaking unimaginable destruction, causing merciless death (by the mere twitch of an appendage), or being a docile observer of such universal events (sworn against interference unless faced with unfathomable circumstances).

Though Dr. Manhattan has a gentle bedside manner, he – as with his godlike counterparts – ultimately needs (light years of) space from the 'disturbance' or 'irritation' of humanity in order to truly live. Who would have thought that when you get too big for your britches, you seriously consider leaving your home planet behind, rather than just purchasing a larger pair of pants? While "Planet Hulk" is not being referenced here, the Hulk certainly would appreciate the ability to leave "puny [hateful, ungrateful] humans" behind in the blink of an eye, far more than a fine pair of incredibly flexible pants.

Speaking of colorful characters, The Media Magnate's only mild visual reservation is with how Dr. Manhattan is (rather bravely) 'rendered' in 3D – using Autodesk's Maya and Side Effects Software's Houdini – atop a practical, actor-worn lighting rig. Dr. Manhattan's body is an all-CG creation with a custom, quad-polygonal 3D model (based upon digitized scans of Billy Crudup's face and fellow actor / model Greg Plitt's body), all driven by motion capture.

 
 
 
 
 
 
It is genuinely understood and appreciated (from The Media Magnate's own time in the games industry, using very similar technology and lower-detail visual assets) just how hard it is to generate and maintain maximum control over a photorealistic, self-illuminated, fluorescent blue 3D character without significantly impacting the lighting requirements of the surrounding environment, atmospherics, props, and other characters within a live action scene. A carefully integrated VFX approach – as subtle as Dr. Manhattan's needed to be – proves the difference between near-hit believability and a near-miss distraction. The combined techniques used by Snyder were worth the risk and produced admirable-if-understandably-imperfect results.

 
 
Dr. Manhattan – nonetheless and at one point during the film – agrees to (slow his on-camera glow and) be a broadcast television show guest to answer a series of questions from the show's host and live audience. An aggressive reporter within the audience confronts Dr. Manhattan with probing questions about his past colleagues (pointing out how everyone with whom he had been in regular contact since becoming Dr. Manhattan had gotten cancer and died). The reporter even rolls out Dr. Manhattan's old girl friend – Janey Slater (played by Laura Mennell) – who spews venom over her horrible fate and pulls off an unexpected wig to gasp-inducing effect.

Dr. Manhattan is caught off guard by all of this, repeating that he had never been notified. The reporter – and the rest of the audience – (seemingly, stupidly unfazed that Dr. Manhattan could vaporize them with but a gesture) rush the stage with flashbulbs-a-popping and more questions. Dr. Manhattan – as if trapped by a suffocating school of fish – (finally) snaps.

"Please. If everyone would. just. go. away . . . and leave me alone. I said . . . LEAVE ME ALONE!" – Dr. Manhattan.

 
 
Dr. Manhattan teleports himself to the silence of Mars. Though he easily could have chosen to leave Earth behind out of (artificially engineered) fear of causing everyone near him cancer, he was already on the verge of testing the concept of distance making the heart grow fonder.

"I am tired of Earth. These people. I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives." – Dr. Manhattan.

Long before Dr. Manhattan determines, however, that he no longer has a place among humans, he has a number of opportunities to halt questionable or even horrific actions by both his teammates and his government, and, yet, he chooses not to get involved. This is both unconscionable and understandable, and the first real signs the 'human affliction' or 'human condition' can no longer count Dr. Manhattan among its life-long victims.

Dr. Manhattan still has a moral compass, and he knows he can make the biggest difference in a safe(r) future for humankind. He knows the U.S. and U.S.S.R. are on the bleeding edge of doomsday, and yet, as Adrian Veidt / Ozymandias (so smoothly played by Matthew Goode) says, “Not even Dr. Manhattan can be everywhere at once.” So prophetic.

 
 
Ozymandias – having previously exposed his true identity to the public – is one of two Watchmen (besides Dr. Manhattan) who have no need to hide following passage of The Keene Act. Ozymandias has made an incredible business empire for himself (in part from Watchmen-related action figures), generating exponential insulation from almost anyone or anything on the planet, public or private.

Ozymandias – like Dr. Manhattan – has absolutely nothing to loose, while his colleagues continue to watch their backs even in seclusion. The same cannot be said for those who visit Ozymandias at his office building (when in his Adrian Veidt persona), like the "Big Fossil Fuel" representatives who – regarding an aggressive switch to renewable energy sources – come to first complain, then threaten, then (after a 'subtle' reminder of Veidt's ability to purchase their businesses three times over) feebly apologize. They are all killed for their trouble by a hit man who conveniently comes up short against the superior-skilled Veidt, who comes down hard on the hit man with one superb swing of a nearby queue pole. The hit man ingests a poison pill – rather making any proclamations – before expiring.

 
 
While Ozymandias is down one secretary and freed from a fraternity of fraudulent fossils, he is already refocused on what he aims to be his defining accomplishment, his life's work.

One thing still vexes the great Ozymandias, even with his absolute release from the need for super hero secrecy (though his need for business secrecy is another story). What does "the smartest man on the planet" do to scratch a maddening mental itch? Ozymandias' fascination with one day becoming the modern day match of his idols – Alexander of Macedonia ("Alexander the Great") and Egyptian pharaoh Ramses II (from whom he procured his super hero name) – ultimately drives him towards his own mad interpretation of how to attain world peace among near-warring nations. He decides to provide the world's two national super powers – on the brink of nuclear destruction – with an unbelievably convincing incentive to immediately unite towards establishing world peace. He prepares to deliver his insidious inducement through cataclysmic devastation normally only associated with nuclear weapons, a 'global killer' asteroid . . . or one particular member of the Watchmen.

Ozymandias schemes to use Dr. Manhattan’s own personal struggle between remaining on Earth as humanity's super social worker – or heading out of Dodge to go "where no man has gone before" – to establish the perfect alibi to do the unthinkable. He aims to destroy major cities around the world, including New York, Los Angeles, Paris, Moscow, Hong Kong, and Tokyo in the ultimate attention-getter among squabbling super powers (specifically the United States and the U.S.S.R.). Dr. Manhattan – in the only end game Ozymandias can envision – represents the perfect scapegoat for his meticulously manipulative plan.

Dr. Manhattan is impervious to any physical threats from humanity. He is kind to humanity (or at least the U.S. and their western allies), but kindness can diminish to mere tolerance, and mere tolerance – in the blink of a super-powered eye – can transition into cleansing the home world of a ridiculously self-destructive race. He represents the common denominator required to forcibly bring two adversarial 'superpower' countries – and many other smaller players – together towards formation of the ultimate peace accords.

 
 
Ozymandias enlists a group of top scientists to collaborate remotely with Dr. Manhattan on a "clean energy project." His scientists operate from within the isolated confines of Ozymandias' Antarctic fortress, Karnak (named after Egypt's "Valley of the Kings") with the collective goal of designing and constructing an "Intrinsic Field Subtractor (IFS)," similar to the one that originally transforms Osterman into Dr. Manhattan . . . but which critically mimics Dr. Manhattan's energy signature and teleportation ability.

 
 
Once the IFS is operational, Ozymandias intends to dispose of his hired help using the shiny new coffin they have unwittingly designed for themselves.

Ozymandias aims to frame (the relentless bloodhound) Rorschach for the Comedian's murder before he can unmask how it is Ozymandias who, in fact, ends the hilarious hit man (who discovers his sinister plot at the specific request of Tricky Dick Nixon). And that it is Ozymandias who pays-and-kills his would-be assassin with a cyanide pill. And, AND how it is Ozymandias who also kills the cancer-stricken former super villain, Edward Jacobi / Moloch the Mystic (played by Matt "Max Headroom" Frewer) in whom the suddenly cracked-and-crying Comedian confides his world-shattering realization. And, AND, AND how Ozymandias causes Moloch, as well as Dr. Manhattan's friends, colleagues, and handlers – Janey Slater, Wally Weaver (played by Rob LaBelle), and General Anthony Randall – to also die of cancer.

Ozymandias would then teleport in, trigger, and teleport out the IFS to progressively, respectively destroy New York, Los Angeles, Moscow, and Hong Kong . . . in order to frame Dr. Manhattan as the undeniable source of the worldwide devastation.

Most critical to keeping the electric blue foundation of Ozymandias' devastating design in a reliable mindset is the placement of tachyon particle generators throughout the Washington, D.C. area – from at least the beginning of the IFS construction and through the end of intercontinental destruction. The presence of these devices prevents Dr. Manhattan from seeing (or distinguishing current events from) his own future. This masking of his 'timeless sight' restricts Dr. Manhattan to only those events which he experiences in real-time and (as Ozymandias hopes) could cause him to finally decide humanity is unworthy – further 'encouraging' him to pursue permanent self-exile from Earth as his only non-violent escape (from humanity's boorish violence), and perhaps of greatest value to Ozymandias . . . no (further threat of) interference from the only being really capable of dooming his design.

Assuming no unexpected gotchas derail his mad scheme too soon, Ozymandias will attempt to convince the other Watchmen of the bigger, better picture and to keep this most horrible secret from the rest of humanity (rather than risk an unthinkable doomsday clock relapse), and – if they fail to appreciate his grand vision – he will kill them to ensure silence.

While Ozymandias is busy unwinding his twisted tale, Rorschach and Nite Owl are aggressively following (surprisingly sloppy) bread crumbs back towards Pyramid Transnational (a subsidiary shell company of Veidt Industries under which Ozymandias has been coordinating his entire plan).

Ozymandias underestimates just how quickly Nite Owl and Silk Spectre decide to throw Keene-Act-caution to the wind and attempt to break Rorschach out of prison (where he is, of course, held after Ozymandias frames him for Moloch's murder).

Following their successful retrieval of Rorschach – during a prison riot in which Rorschach 'saw handfuls' of activity – and they return to Nite Owl's nest to regroup.

Dr. Manhattan suddenly reappears from his Mars meditation – just in time to ruin a gentle kiss between Nite Owl and Silk Spectre. Time away from mind-numbing tachyon interference clears Dr. Manhattan's head, finally allowing him enough focus to urgently approach Silk Spectre about a forthcoming discussion.

"You're going to try to convince me to save the world." – Dr. Manhattan.

Silk Spectre agrees to go back to Mars with him under unknowing protest from Nite Owl. Dr. Manhattan transports her to Mars and within immediate view of a mammoth animated crystal time piece (harkening back to memories of his youth and the mechanical teachings of his watchmaker father). Dr. Manhattan is 'slow' to envelope her within a breathable air pocket, drawing further attention to his potentially expanded disconnect from humanity.

Silk Spectre is already angry with him and demands he just cut to the chase and confirm whether or not nuclear destruction is imminent or humanity survives to continue on its imperfect journey. He shares that – from what future bits and pieces he can finally see – she ends up in tears and "the streets are filled with death." She implores him to return to Earth to prevent mutually-assured destruction.

Dr. Manhattan explains that he merely sees life on life's terms, but that she refuses to see things from his perspective, that she shuts out the things she fears. Silk Spectre dares him to "do that thing you do" and expose her to his omniscient memories. After obliging her demand, they both exit his forced flashback emotionally distraught. She is in tears over the realization her father was the Comedian, and Dr. Manhattan is in shock over the realization he is wrong about miracles (of life) and humanity's ability to create them. Her birth – from as contradictory a union as rape – was a miracle, and that creating life is "like turning gold into air."

While the miracle of life would seem to be a completely obvious thing to a being like Dr. Manhattan, it is entirely possible the stench of humanity's extremely poor showing on the cosmic stage (let alone Earth) may so disgust him from making any further effort to help save the human race . . . that it takes an equally ugly thing – in the rape of a woman – for him to see the value in humanity's imperfect and unpredictable ability to create life.

Dr. Manhattan returns to Earth with Silk Spectre to fulfill one last promise to her, and make one final doomsday-diverting delivery to a still-undeserving humanity.

They appear in New York City and – before he can act, however – humanity appears to have beaten him to the punch. A significant portion of the city has been obliterated by what appears to be a nuclear blast (to the untrained eye straining to view imperceptible differences). The DoD almost immediately determines (by energy signature alone) the chaos could only have been caused by Dr. Manhattan (who – to the contrary – finally notices the tachyon interference that has been preventing him from realizing what has really been occurring since the beginning of his IFS collaboration with Ozymandias). He explains to Silk Spectre that he has been framed by Ozymandias, and he instantly teleports them to Ozymandias' Antarctic compound to confront him.

 
 
Upon their arrival, Dr. Manhattan and Silk Spectre see Nite Owl and Rorschach, who had arrived earlier and come to the same conclusion (albeit by breaking into Ozymandias' office, gaining access to his computer's database – through some timely password tinkering – and shockingly connecting all the bytes to Pyramid Transnational).

Nite Owl and Rorschach think they have Ozymandias surrounded and outnumbered, but Ozymandias easily dismisses their initial assault with his incredible reflexes. It seems he is either a great "Remo Williams" impersonator, or his genetically-engineered pet lynx, Bubastis, was not the only thing he genetically created or enhanced. 
 
Dr. Manhattan – nonetheless – marches up a main staircase past Nite Owl and Rorschach. He hears but does not heed their warnings, and asks them to stay put (knowing full-well Ozymandias may yet have more devastation on tap for the only being capable of stopping him). Dr. Manhattan makes his way into a suddenly tight corridor for such an open compound as Karnak. He is kept momentarily preoccupied by Bubastis.
 
 
 
The sight of Bubastis – as a brief aside – was a pleasant surprise versus what would have been an understandable VFX dodge.
 
Nonetheless, it is in this moment that Ozymandias quietly asks for Bubastis' forgiveness as he flips the fatal switch to the IFS, hoping – but not knowing if – the kind of construct that can create Dr. Manhattan can also obliterate him.
 
 
Dr. Manhattan seems prepared for – and completely at peace – with Ozymandias' perceived master stroke, while Bubastis can only helplessly growl in protest at her own disintegration. It takes but a (long) second to occur . . . and they are gone.
 
 
 
Dr. Manhattan seemingly can – as he says – "turn the walls (of the IFS) to glass." Perhaps he is curious as to Ozymandias' next steps, and he is willing to expose himself to a cataclysmic conclusion in order to learn Ozymandias' true end game.
 
Perhaps Ozymandias also employs tachyon interference devices within Karnak, as well, continuing Dr. Manhattan's inability to retain full mental control and focus. After all, Dr. Manhattan could have floated – rather than take the stairway – up into the IFS chamber.
 
Perhaps his reaction is another example of his growing disconnect from humanity, which reminds of the scene – following the Dr. Manhattan-powered U.S. victory over the Vietcong – where the Comedian is confronted by a Vietnamese woman he impregnated. She wants to know what he is going to do about their baby. The Comedian wants nothing to do with the situation, talks down to her, and tries to dismiss her. She has none of it, breaks a beer bottle, and slashes the Comedian's face. He draws his gun and takes aim as if she is just another member of the Vietcong.

"Blake, don't. BLAKE! She was pregnant . . . and you gunned her down." – Dr. Manhattan.

"That's right. And you know what? You WATCHED me. You could've turned the gun into steam, the bullets into mercury, the bottle into goddamn snowflakes. But you didn't, didja'? You really don't give a damn about human beings. You're driftin' outta' touch, Doc. God help us all. MEDIC!" – the Comedian.

Ozymandias – after seemingly succeeding in obliterating Dr. Manhattan – reappears at the top of the staircase within Karnak's main chamber, to the shock of Nite Owl, Rorschach, and Silk Spectre (who decides to dispense with the awesome, collective show of hand-to-hand combat in favor of a point-blank gunshot at their longtime teammate-turned-enemy).

Ozymandias – to everyone's surprise – goes tumbling down the staircase, sliding to a limp-bodied halt. Their surprise is shattered as Ozymandias reveals he caught the bullet with a well-padded glove, as he suddenly side-thrust-kicks Silk Spectre several feet up the staircase where she sustains a brutal landing.

In one of the best, most painfully dismissive lines of super hero film history – following Nite Owl's threat to kill Ozymandias if Silk Spectre has been severely hurt by him – the always aloof, deadpan Ozymandias says, "Grow up, Dan. My new world demands less obvious heroism. Your schoolboy heroics are redundant. What have they achieved? Failing to prevent Earth's salvation is your only triumph."

The Media Magnate – as an aside and in that moment – felt as helpless as Nite Owl looked in his part of the failed 3-on-1 bid to take down Ozymandias. One might argue the Comedian – many years older than Nite Owl with similar-to-superior fighting skills – at least put up a real fight to begin the film. Still, Ozymandias toyed with the attack-minded Comedian like a cat with a ball of yarn in the process of easily bloodying him before single-handedly (yes, with a SINGLE hand) raising him off the ground – "light as a feather, stiff as a board" style – and mercifully (?) tossing him through a plate-glass window to his height-accelerated, bean juice-covered death.

This tone-setting scene – for those familiar with the original fiction – would appear to indirectly reference "The Veidt Method," a concept of body-and-mind development practiced by Ozymandias (and publicly advertised by Adrian Veidt) as THE way to achieve and maintain one's peak mental and physical skills.

The Veidt Method would seemingly be one of only two unadvertised-by-Snyder reasons for Ozymandias' lightning fast, Remo Williams-like reflexes and superior physical strength, with the other reason being that Ozymandias' genetic experimentation may not have been exclusive to the creation of his pet lynx.

Nonetheless, just when Nite Owl, Rorschach, and Silk Spectre potentially begin to loose hope in their collective ability to topple Ozymandias, a familiar voice booms from above. Both heroes and villain alike suddenly look up to see a towering, monster movie-sized Dr. Manhattan staring down at them through the no-longer-so-massive-looking skylight in the facility's ceiling. His hand – like a wrecking ball with bad intensions – smashes through it and barely misses a diving Ozymandias.

 
 
 
"Reassembling myself is the first trick I learned. I didn't kill Osterman," says Dr. Manhattan as he returns to normal size and approaches his team member-turned-adversary.
 
"Did you really think it would kill me? . . . I have walked across the surface of the sun. I have witnessed events so tiny and so fast they can hardly be said to have occurred at all. But you, Adrian, you're just a man. The world's smartest man poses no more threat to me than does it's smartest termite." – Dr. Manhattan.
 
 
As another brief aside, this scene faintly reminds The Media Magnate of one of the final (powerful) scenes from "Bladerunner," involving Rutger Hauer's replicant "Roy Batty" and Harrison Ford's "Rick Deckard."
 
 
"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhδuser Gate. All those . . . moments will be lost, in time, like tears, in rain. Time to die." – Roy Batty to Deckard, after sparing him from an equally deadly fate.
 
Ozymandias – nonetheless and seemingly seconds away from oblivion – is holding up a handheld device to which an unimpressed Dr. Manhattan responds: "What's that? Another ultimate weapon?"

"Yes, you could say that," says Ozymandias, who manages an uneasy grin (knowing he has been similarly spared) as he presses a button on what proves to be a TV remote. The bank of televisions he had previously been watching suddenly attract everyone's attention with footage of President Nixon confirming the inconceivable news, and that – like the rest of the developed world – he has been fooled into believing Dr. Manhattan is to blame. It is in this moment that moviegoers come to truly realize the tremendous potency of the tachyon interference, or recognize the astonishing naοvetι of a god-like being – who is expected to know better – in Dr. Manhattan. He would seemingly never allow anyone or entity – friend, foe, or friend-turned-foe – to successfully replicate his powers.

The world's smartest termite – indeed – 'wins' the day . . . insidiously sparing humanity from paying the ultimate price at a still-terrible cost.
 
Ozymandias has degenerated himself from being the most brilliant human on Earth to a person terminally desperate to deliver the – no, his ultimate peace-brokering solution (but not a guaranteed or permanent one due to the ever-present, unrelenting human condition that has historically stunted society's ability to achieve greater harmony). He – in his madness – determines there is also no better choice than to ruin the good name of the most brilliant, powerful, capable, and docile-unless-provoked being known to humanity, encouraging the world to believe that Dr. Manhattan has murdered millions of people in a fit of rage (as an extremely convenient cover for the distributed blast from the IFS) just so the threat of nuclear war could potentially be stopped forever.

The Media Magnate sees a (very) loose connection between this result and the final scene of the "The Dark Knight" – the 2008 second leg of Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy, when Harvey Dent – rather than dying a hero – lives long enough to see himself become the villain.
 
"(Harvey Dent's) the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now (because the city can never know the truth). So we'll hunt (Batman). Because he can take it. Because he's not our hero. He's a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight."
 
 
A similar sentiment – with a twist – exists in "Watchmen," with Dr. Manhattan being set up to take the blame for the devastation wrought by Ozymandias.
 
"Babysitting a society of troglodytes pretending to be members of a civilization is not the responsibility Dr. Manhattan deserves, not the headache he needs right now. So humanity will hate him, because our trigger-happy superpowers can never know the truth. Because he can take it in order to maintain the impossible achievement of a grand lie. Because he's not our hero or one we have earned." – as would have been appropriately and privately stated by Ozymandias.

"I am tired of Earth, these people. I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives." – Dr. Manhattan.
 
It is sad that such a brilliant mind as Ozymandias' succumbed to the very brutal ironies mentioned at the top of this review. He wants to save humanity from the potential of total annihilation, taking measures that would only exist within the nuclear holocaust he seeks to prevent, and, yet, he is performing this act for a society he not-so-secretly loathes.

Consider that Ozymandias has also come to this deadly conclusion to forgive himself for failing to find a peaceful solution towards bringing humanity together. He must feel as limited and helpless as the normal, fellow human beings he despises. Then, again – even though it never appears to be part of his plan – Dr. Manhattan’s exit reasonably ensures Ozymandias will never again be or feel challenged by an equal or superior intellect / higher power . . . until Dr. Manhattan's unlikely (?) return, of course.
 
Through the irony of all ironies, Dr. Manhattan and Ozymandias deserve each other. Ozymandias uses tachyon radiation to block Dr. Manhattan’s visions of the future, and, yet, we have no way of knowing whether or not Dr. Manhattan had already seen the future before his visions were blocked. Thus, Dr. Manhattan could have, should have, but only might have stopped Ozymandias from making his devastating decision.

Dr. Manhattan could have also directly or indirectly prevented the Comedian’s death, and, by doing so, Dr. Manhattan could have also prevented his own final (?) act on Earth from being the mercy killing of Rorschach, who felt totally betrayed when the most responsible human he knew, in Ozymandias, could no longer maintain his righteous separation from the abysmal humanity both of them loathed, and in which Dr. Manhattan no longer had any interest.

Superheroes – again and regardless of how powerful – always seem to be faced with the perpetually impossible challenge of being more human than human, without becoming inhuman. The Watchmen are doomed to self-destruction from the beginning, leading to inhumanity in the end, but this is not because they did not try mightily to avoid such a result.

Some filmgoers were anticipating another “superhero film for the sake of superheroes,” and Watchmen could not be farther from that kind of experience. Other filmgoers wanted to see something that properly honored the material on display in Alan Moore’s 12-book mini-series. While Snyder took calculated risks – for a number of reasons (some filmmaker practical, some studio executive questionable, and shared implication for others) like so many directors before him and still to come – his effort was a near panel-by-panel replication of Moore's material. For those who felt Snyder's effort was still deficient or unreasonably inaccurate, “Good luck with that in a near 3-hour time span.” Still, others were looking for a healthy mix of both which left the result as firmly planted in reality as possible. Just like viewing a Rorschach, almost everyone sees something different and – in the case of Watchmen – purists and critics (unfamiliar with the original fiction) wanted to see something different.
 
The Media Magnate drank deeply of Snyder's adaptation and is eager to see how his detailed direction might measure up with other cherished comic book properties.
 
Right or wrong, good or bad, fair or unfair, cinemagoers should steel themselves for the Pandora's box that Snyder's effort may have irreversibly opened: comic book film adaptations that involve an increasingly in-depth marriage of two former foes . . . superhero wonderment and (sometimes painful) reality.