The Director’s Cut (aka ‘The still not done yet version’)

Having never read the Watchmen graphic novel by writer Alan Moore (V for Vendetta) and illustrator Dave Gibbons, nor being familiar with anything concerning the ex-superhero characters integrated into an alternate world in which America’s Cold War with Russia (and Nixon still President), there was an anticipation of seeing an ‘epic’ comic tale brought to life.

Epic, in this case, is less reflective of the large character arcs – spanning the forties to the mid-eighties – and visual scale, because what’s unique about this live-action attempt to dramatize the novel is the sheer length and depth of Zack Snyder’s film, and screenwriters David Hayter and Alex Tse to adapt as much of the novel as possible.

The theatrical cut of Snyder’s film ran 162 mins., whereas this expanded version pushes the running time just over three hours, and the film will undergo a further expansion later this year, reportedly integrating a subplot branded ‘the black freighter.’

The problem with multiple film versions – or any long film based on sprawling, myth-heavy source material, for that matter – is that one is aware of levels where the director had to concede to the studio’s requests, but was given allowances in other areas.

Theatrical cuts are essentially the compromises between the director and writers’ original artistic goals, versus the studio’s desire to get as much play in theatres as possible. That’s the driest interpretation, but it’s not wholly unfair for a studio to want a film with tighter pacing, because extreme length for some audiences means boredom, and that can kill a film’s box office chances, even though a theatrical run nowadays really just functions as a promo for the inevitable multiple home video releases, so the need for a studio cut is fairly redundant if what’s being released first is a film with edits lethal to a film’s artistry.

Now, having not seen the shorter cut (which at this time isn’t available on DVD), but being familiar with multiple versions of other films (the Lord of the Rings trilogy, King Kong, Cleopatra, The Exorcist, and the list goes on), there’s an awareness that not every nuance deserves screen time, but the real question for the unfamiliar is whether Watchmen, as a movie, actually works.

The novel-to-screenplay went through a long pre-production process via two studios and multiple writers and directors that practically spanned practically twenty years before Warner Bros. settled on director Snyder, and the Hayter-Tse script. Early director Terry Gilliam’s take on the project was that it could only work as a TV mini-series, and perhaps that’s what the film should’ve been designed as, with a limited theatrical run, simply because the story in one sitting in a cinema is slow for average moviegoers expecting a snappy comic book movie.

Moore’s prose is as dour and brooding as V for Vendetta (which is a good thing), but there are two generations of superheroes and various flashback planes that probably won’t sit well with generic comic fans; it’s not that they’re confusing, but disruptive to the flow towards some collision point involving action or visual extravagances.

The first two hours are essentially painstakingly assembled backstory about the relationships between the old and new generation of superheroes, and it’s the last hour where chaos and fury starts to fill the screen.

Snyder strove to capture Gibbons’ visuals, but the slow-build towards the finale is sometimes exhausting, and a bit familiar to Moore’s The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003) and that film's finale set in an arctic environment. League’s first hour was acceptable, but around the midpoint, the entire film collapsed into an idiotic series of loud and contrived conflicts, but Watchmen is a much more whole film: the story is carefully plotted, and the conflicts leading towards the incendiary conclusion make sense.

There’s also greater care towards character development, even though only a few really manage to resonate. The weakest group include Adrian Veidt (Matthew Goode), who kind of hangs around in a few scenes before being pulled in for the finale; Dan Dreiberg (Patrick Wilson), whose relationship with Laurie Jupiter (Lain Akerman) comes off as flat; and Sally Jupiter (Carla Gugino), Laurie’s mom, whose own superhero feats are largely isolated to her involvement with The Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan, finally given a decent role since his Greys Anatomy days).

The most compelling is Rorschach, whom Jackie Earle Haley vivifies with great compassion, in spite of being trapped under a whitish mask; and ex-hero/tell-all author Hollis Mason, beautifully realized by Stephen McHattie. Even The Comedian develops beyond the opening scene, and he's dramatized as a messed up rogue whose rotten cruelty was responsible for the banning of masked superheroes; and then there's aging villain Moloch the Mystic, a character that really should’ve been given a decent flashback of his own, if not some added background.

Doctor Manhattan (Billy Crudup) is marginally affective because he’s an impossible creation: the nuclearized, naked humanoid is a blue-glowing creature with few venues to convey emotion beyond a soothing, HAL-like voice, poetic verbosity and face muscles. Crudup did what he could, but the good Doctor is largely an assimilated CGI creation, and there are moments when the blackness of the character’s eyes make it impossible to feel his inner torment; only his physical positioning provide a hint, and that’s just not enough.

What may ultimately affect the film’s success among average comic book movie fans, though, is a strange sense of déjà vu. The film’s premise – aging superheroes don their gear once more to fight a rogue hero – will recall the The Incredibles (2004); and the elaborately themed costumes will also recall lesser efforts such as Mystery Men (1999), The Specials (2000), and TV’s The Tick (2001).

The aforementioned are all comedies, and their spoofing of elements within the Watchmen world does pull one out from Snyder’s drama; it’s unlikely it’ll affect those familiar with the original graphic novel, but newbies may find an existing familiarity with genre spoofs will sometimes shatter the Watchmen’s dour mythos.

This brings forth an intriguing irony: in waiting twenty years to realize the film, the production benefitted from massive advancements in film technology, but that time span allowed the spoofing of forgotten heroes to enter mainstream pop culture, which is why some of the early directors – including Darren Aronofsky – felt some story elements were dated.

Snyder’s film does manage to bridge a few political time periods and avoid being politically dated: the Nixionian politics are Kubrikian (as well as the Dr. Strangelove War Room set); the Vietnam War flashbacks could easily refer to the Iraq War; and the existence of the Twin Towers in New York City perhaps symbolizes a kind of innocence about to be shattered.

Whether the film will evolve into a more cerebral classic on home video is to be seen, because even though repeated viewings can unearth further nuances and expand the appreciation of the graphic novel, at three hours, Watchmen is a monster that requires patience, and a near-total sublimation of superhero pop culture clichés.

That is indeed a tough sell.

© 2009 Mark R. Hasan