The film: A ramble, a rant, a hope.

So I’ve seen the film already — a little more than two weeks ago, actually, in a screening room in an office building in downtown Chicago (relatively small by cinema standards, and not lot unlike a home theater). The occasion was made to feel very exclusive and hush-hush and top secret, as if all 9 or 10 of us had just been approved for clearance to work in the Obama White House. Because I was admitted into the screening as a professional journalist, I figured I should honor the Warner Bros request not to leak a review. But now that all the pros’ opinions are hitting the ’net — and, from high praise to total pan, those reviews are as varied as the constantly shifting designs on Rorschach’s mask — I’m (finally) weighing in too.

Keep in mind, I wasn’t sitting there with a critic’s hat on, so I wasn’t taking copious notes. I’d been assigned by the Chicago Tribune to write a preview, not a review. (Although the end result isn’t quite what I’d been aiming for, my editor and I managed to get about 1,000 words into the paper — that’s a ton by today’s standards, especially at the ever-shrinking Trib — and hopefully, by citing professional astronomers and poetry professors, we presented a pretty unique angle among all the mainstream press.)

Anyway, it shouldn't surprise anyone to know that it's not as good as the book. I say that without any scorn. I’m not a purist; I fully realize that any adaptation requires change. I’m also not a fan of Zack Snyder's earlier film, “300” (although that’s because I’m not a Frank Miller fan), yet I’d spent months feeling cautiously optimistic about this movie. And were my hopes fulfilled? No. Or I should say: Not yet. Parts of it are truly transcendent ... but a couple things really blow chunks.

Remember how you saw “The Fellowship of the Ring,” and it was pretty good? And then, months later, you saw the director’s cut on DVD, and it was so much better? Instead of leaping from action sequence to action sequence, it had room for characterization, for true immersion into the land of Middle Earth, for moments that made you care all the more about the threat posed by The One Ring? Well, “Watchmen” is a lot like that.

Like Tolkien, Moore & Gibbons have created a very dense, multi-layered work filled with intricate back stories and its own particular history. Like “The Lord the of the Rings,” “Watchmen” has been profoundly influential in its genre. And both works have inspired infinite hours of study over the years (the chapter-by-chapter readings in this blog being only the latest iteration in a long line of such analyses).

While it’s clear to me that both artistic teams have great love and respect for their source material, Peter Jackson & Company had a huge advantage that Zack Snyder & Company don’t: the luxury of time. Jackson got 10-plus hours to tell his story in the cinema; Snyder gets less than three. (I’m not arguing that “Watchmen” should’ve been two or three films, just making a point.) Snyder told me that he submitted a longer cut to Warner Bros execs, who overruled him — what you’re going to see lasts for 160 minutes. (The irony is, some people will think that’s too long. Me, I’m a fan of immersive art, so I’m completely disregarding the ADD-tailored attention span of today’s pop culture.)

It’s hard to offer an honest critical analysis of an adaptation (or a theatrical revival or a cover song) when you’ve got strong preconceived notions about the original work of art. And, believe it or not, I wouldn’t say that I’ve got a deep emotional attachment to “Watchmen” — it’s not, for me, “The Wizard of Oz” or “Sweeney Todd” — but I do have a deep respect, admiration and enthusiasm for the comic book. Snyder himself realizes this is what he’s up against when the legions of fanboys (and a few fangirls) hit cinemas this weekend. As he said during our interview, “I mean, look — people who’ve read the graphic novel, they’re kind of watching it and ticking boxes as they watch it, as opposed to totally letting it go.”

So, yes, I sat there and ticked off those boxes. And if you’re still reading by now, I’m guessing you wanna know which ones got ticked and which ones didn’t. (This is your “duh! spoilers ahead!” warning. If you don’t want to know any details, stop reading now — but do come back later, after you’ve seen the film for yourself, and chime in with your thoughts.)

Aaaand here’s a quick list of what I saw ...

Rorschach’s pretty butterfly? Check.
Doctor Manhattan’s glowing blue cock? Check.
Cosplay copulation inside a hovering Owlship? Check.
Stunning visits to Mars and Antarctica? Check.
The moral conundrum of the conclusion? Check.

On the other hand:
The two Bernies and the entire newsstand scene? Nope.
The subplot/character arc of Hollis Mason? Nope.
Rorschach’s impact on his psychiatrist? Nope.
The inner workings of the New Frontiersmen office? Nope.
The giant death squid? Nope.

Actually, I can live without some of that stuff. Yeah, the squid’s gone, but that’s practically a mere Macguffin in Veidt’s plot, the substance of which remains the same. He’s still engineered a genocide, and he still did it 35 minutes ago. And (as you might’ve heard by now) the “Black Freighter” comic has been adapted into its own animated special, which will be out on DVD later in March — and, eventually, mixed back into the film in a special “ultimate cut.” (Believe me, Warner Bros is going to milk this baby with several different DVD iterations.)

But, while some of the rest of the details had to go, the story suffers for it. And — here comes my rant — they fucked up my favorite scene! And it’s the worst possible sin, really, because it’s not a substantive cut at all, just a trim of a few key seconds: the lopping off the ending of Dr. Manhattan’s epiphany on Mars. That, for me, is one of the book’s greatest moments, and certainly its most beautiful — an oasis of profound inspiration in a tale almost otherwise consumed by its bleak world view.

Here’s what happens in the movie: Laurie realizes who her father is, and the good Doc realizes that she is a miracle and thus he decides to return to Earth. But the screenplay never makes the key connection, when Laurie says, “But — if me, my birth, if that’s a thermodynamic miracle — I mean, you could say that about anybody in the world!” And Jon replies, “Yes. Anybody in the world. But the world is so full of people, so crowded with these miracles, that they become commonplace and we forget ... ”


Instead, Jon tells her that he realizes that she’s a miracle, and that’s it. Which, you know, sort of spoils the greater truth. (This scene also makes it abundantly clear that actress Malin Akerman was cast specifically because she looked damn hot in yellow-and-black spandex. Oh, and maybe because she could actually pull off those severe bangs. Those qualities are the sum total of her assets.)

To add insult to injury, there’s a worst-common-denominator moment in the screenplay during the Doc’s realization. As he builds to the miracle moment, he says to Laurie, “... until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate — Edward Blake, the Comedian — and ... ” Arrrgh! What. The. Fuck!? She knows who he’s talking about! Why would he say both names like that? It reeks of talking down to the audience. (As does the moment, somewhat earlier in the film, when Rorschach, recalling the case that turned him into a crazy vengeful psychopath, looks out the window at the two German Shepherds fighting over a large bone and slowly realizes where that bone came from. Except in the movie, they’re clearly fighting over a fleshy human leg, complete with foot still attached.)

Guess what, Snyder and Company: If somebody has been sitting through two-plus hours of your movie and can’t figure out, after all the flashbacks Laurie’s just had, that Eddie Blake = the Comedian = her father, well, I’m damn sure that they’re way too stupid or way too drunk to really enjoy it anyway. Either way, those four little explanatory words you added to Jon’s speech aren’t going to help them.

So there. That’s my rant. You might have your own, after you see it. We all have different moments that move us, and if they get tampered with in the wrong way, it leaves a really bad taste. Case in point: In “The Two Towers,” I hated it when Faramir decides to kidnap Frodo and march him to Osgiliath. Hated it. The whole sequence makes no sense ... but don’t get me started. Today, while I still grit my teeth a little during that sequence, overall I love “The Lord of the Rings.” So there’s hope for “Watchmen.”

In fact, I’m going back to see it with a group of friends Saturday, and I’m excited. We’re catching it at a sold-out screening at an Imax theater, which will be worlds away from how I saw it the first time. (I mean, those none of those other 9 or 10 people ever laughed. At all. And, come on, I know it’s grim and violent, but there are a few funny bits.)

I’m curious to find out what my reaction will be after this second viewing. Now that I already know what’s different, I can, paradoxically, approach it with a fresh palette — because I won’t be sitting there, checking off those boxes. With that mental game out of the way, I’ll be able to assess of the work before me, not the one in my head.

So I’m looking forward to seeing it huge, with a presumably enthusiastic crowd. But you know what I’m really looking forward to? The “Watchmen” movie of the future. By which I mean director’s cut which, Snyder told me, is a full half-hour longer (and might even get a theatrical release this summer). And, ultimately, the 220-minute cut, with the animated “Black Freighter” sequence is added in. At that point, I hope, it’ll be like finally watching “The Lord of the Rings” with all the extra footage added back in, when the movie finally had time to breathe.

At that point, we longtime fans of the comic book might just get the movie we hoped we’d see this weekend.