Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons' Watchmen - Page 4

And neither can Moore, which is apparent from his handling of the Dr. Manhattan/Laurie Juspeczyk relationship. Now, Manhattan is a nihilist through most of this story, in that he places no more value on one thing than another. We are told that his affection for Laurie constitutes his only tether to this plane--although he actually exists in all times, in all places, and "the work" that he talks about doing in the present never seems to amount to anything, so it's debatable how "tethered" he actually is... One thing is certain--every once in a while, he remembers how miraculous it can be for someone else to buy you a beer. "Someone" can buy themselves a beer, but it's nothing without that "else". And you'd better believe in that--or else. But Manhattan does forget, and he wanders off, like Coverdale, in The Blithedale Romance, to savour the "moral sillabub" of his past associations. Of course, Laurie recalls him to his senses (such as they are), and he remains cognizant of the miracle of other people just long enough to play his questionable role in the maintenance of Veidt's temporary "reign of peace". But he forgets all over again when he finds Laurie has moved on with her life. She is no less miraculous in another person's arms. That's the joke. But Manhattan takes himself so seriously he might as well be the Comedian for chrissakes, and he disappears from the narrative, intent upon creating "miracles" of his own (a ridiculous plan, and a sad descent into autism--by definition, you can't create miracles... they've got to take you by surprise)...

Rorschach Quest


With the character of Dr. Manhattan, Alan Moore pushed superheroic transcendence beyond even space and time (I wonder if David Lynch was thinking of Watchmen when he created the scene in Lost Highway in which Robert Blake hands Bill Pullman the cell phone and a voice at the other end of the line--also Blake's--says "I'm at your house"... probably not--but you never know!) Many reviewers have preceded me in noting the complex strategy of doubling and differentiation in this work, so I won't do any more of that--but I do want to establish that if Manhattan is the superhero concept blown up to impossible dimensions, Rorschach is his opposite number: the moral imagination boiled down to its' fetid essence.

In the past few months, I've hammered away at the idea that superheroes are liberated from "power relationships"--but I never wished to imply that they lose their ability to relate as a consequence! Quite the reverse, in fact. According to Foucault--all relationships are power relationships. For me, the very term is an oxymoron. A moral relationship presupposes equality. Power not only abhors a vacuum, it creates one... Take Peter Parker, for instance. When we first meet him he's an ostracized nerd--a nonentity. In more realistic fiction, this type of character only has two options open to him: either he continues to endure social oppression, or he becomes a "somebody" by "standing up for himself", thus altering the power dynamic in his community. In the actual event--he does neither, thanks to the spider bite. Throughout Ditko's run, at least, Parker remains the same bookish nerd he's always been. And yet, his newfound indifference to the power structure that so determined his life before his "conversion experience" enables him to develop actual relationships with other characters... His "adventures in morality", as Spider-Man, ground him.

Article Author: David Fiore

Visit David Fiore's author page — David Fiore's Blog