assorted, vol. 2

-I’m writing this all far too aware and tempted by the fact that it would be so easy, so comfortable to tilt my head back and fall asleep. The past few days I’ve been grudgingly fighting back a cold, denying its existence, pretending that it’s just a little difficult for my body to adjust to home than anticipated. Jetlag can last four days, right? Meanwhile, it’s been nice to spend the past few days reading, sipping tea and making naptime a priority.
-I saw Watchmen the other day. I’ve actually been anxiously awaiting this movie since reading the graphic novel. Truth be told, I never read the graphic novel until well into the promotional material for the movies started flooding the public consciousness. I’ve been vaguely aware of the movie for some time now due to the accolade: the only “comic book” on Time magazine’s 100 best books list, buckets of praise from the comic universe, and general awesomeness bestowed by accredited critics and basement-confined geeks in general.
I’m not really one for comic books or graphic novels, but I am one for stories. My tolerance for superheroes and mutant powers only goes so far—it’s nice and all, but I prefer characters with shady origins and conflicting moralities. That said, reading the actual graphic novel of the Watchmen was great. There’s an actual in-depth story in there. The “comic” itself goes beyond requirements and includes newspaper articles, government documents and fictionalized autobiographies of secondary characters to shed light on events that give further depth to an already well-established storyline.
Ok, established. Watchmen the graphic novel=brilliant piece of fiction. Watchmen the movie=interesting adaption.
To get the basics out of the way, numerous filmmakers over the past decade have attempted to turn Watchmen into a movie, never mind it’s been considered impossible. The depth of the work itself requires so much attention, so much respect that to cut down on anything would ruin the subtlety of the work itself. Then again, that’s what happens when you try to adapt written material for film, true? The nuances hidden within a single written sentence are obliterated when translated to a massive movie screen, right?
But isn’t that a requirement of an adaption? The intrinsic elements are included, but the work on the whole is modified and sculpted to the new medium. Most senses of subtly are lost in adapting the graphic novel to the big screen, but the work succeeds in gaining a new vehicle: the big screen. Look at how big everything is! See how badass Rorschach looks in person! Wonder at how bleak everything looks in the everyday world as opposed to on ink and paper.
Still, at nearly three hours long, maybe the creators of the movie felt they were at the mercy of the material as opposed to co-collaborators. To hell with convention—it’s in your hands now. That’s the bit that bothered me about the movie—I don’t think the team behind the movie took as many liberties as they could have. Rather than fill in on all the bits so deliciously carried on in the movie, carry on the story, as it would best translate on the big screen. Drop unnecessary dialogue, neglect scenes that would get in the way of the film’s flow, and don’t be afraid to take liberties. It’s your movie, you interpretation. Do it that way.
(Furthermore: put some goddamn pants on Dr. Manhattan and stop using Leonard Cohen’s “Halleluiah” in every tender scene in a movie. Granted, it’s a great song—Jeff Buckley’s version is as heartbreakingly beautiful as anything else you’ll hear—but for fuck’s sake, please stop.
-On Thursday I leave for Ft. Lauderdale, and the day after I get back on the Noordam for the next seven months. In honor of everything I’ll miss while I’m gone:
-The Temple
-Java’s
-Record Archive
-My french press
-Book stores
-The jazz festival
-Not having to do passenger boat drill

-Then again, I’m going to Europe for seven months. I think I’ll live (quite well, thank you.)

Cheers.