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Sunday, Nov 22, 2009
Alan Moore, the Orson Welles of comics, delivers his darkest masterpiece yet.
Oct 26, 1999 | If comic books have a "Citizen Kane," the clear choice is "Watchmen," written by Alan Moore and drawn by Dave Gibbons. Just as Orson Welles' kaleidoscopic biography of a newspaper tycoon invariably tops cinematic best-ever lists, Moore and Gibbons' apocalyptic yet intimate superhero tale commands a similar status in its medium. And as the flashbacks from Charles Foster Kane's estranged loved ones come together to form a tragic portrait on film, so do the distinct voices and aspirations of Moore's Watchmen coalesce into engrossing and credible human beings -- never mind the cowls and capes. "Watchmen" proves that a story published in "funny book" form can be as perceptive, relevant and mature as any novel, film or television series.
When DC Comics published "Watchmen's" 12 issues in the mid-1980s, comics were viewed as the bottom of the pop culture barrel, no more than adolescent fantasies of brightly-costumed characters in never-ending, rock 'em-sock 'em fight scenes. But "Watchmen" proved as far removed from standard superhero fare as "Trainspotting" is from "Reefer Madness," and gave adventurous readers a brand-new addiction. "Watchmen" and its contemporaries not only popularized the term "graphic novel," they made it a necessary distinction that set these new, deeper works apart from juvenile-sounding "comic books."
Other comics depicted alienated supermen and antiheroic vigilantes before "Watchmen," but never before had they seemed so much like people of flesh and blood, instead of ink and pulp. "Watchmen" also made the ordinary lives of street-corner bystanders as crucial as the doings of its atom-age |bermensch, and could intercut fate-of-the-world confrontations in Antarctica with quiet, awkward moments of middle-aged romance. Dr. Manhattan, the book's only "super-powered" individual, becomes so detached he grows to prefer the surface of Mars to the company of his lover or colleagues. Like Billy Pilgrim in "Slaughterhouse-Five," he perceives time from all angles, flashing backwards and forwards, from scenes of love and teamwork in his youth to his perfect isolation on Mars' airless deserts.
Welles didn't invent the landmark filmic techniques (as well as the ideas from radio and live theater) that he used in "Citizen Kane," but he gave them an electrifying new showcase. Likewise, Moore drew diverse cinematic, literary and cartooning styles together in a style unprecedented in comics. But creating an encore to an instant classic is a tricky business, and Welles never equaled "Kane." After "Watchmen," the Moore's most significant graphic novel is "From Hell," an epic autopsy of the Jack the Ripper slayings, serialized through the 1990s and now finally being published in book form by Eddie Campbell Comics.
As ambitious and affecting as anything ever rendered in pictures and word balloons, "From Hell" combines an intricate mystery, insightful social criticism and unflinching brutality capable of unnerving the most desensitized pop audience. It's publication as a book promises to give it a new lease on life. That's what happened with Art Spiegelman's Pulitzer-Prize winning "Maus," which was originally published in installments in the arty comic "Raw." "From Hell" is the only graphic novel since "Maus" to rival its ambition and historical depth.
One of the rare comic book masters who's solely a writer, Moore first made his mark in the 1980s with serials in British comic book anthologies. But he became a sensation when he took over DC Comics' "Swamp Thing." With Moore at the helm, the lurid horror title about a shambling plant man offered Hitchcockian thrills, debates about hot-button issues from gun control to incest and visual flights worthy of psychedelic rock album covers.
"Swamp Thing" shook up staid DC Comics, home of Batman and Superman, and became the first mainstream comic book to be published without the seal of the industry's self-censoring Comics Code Authority. Moore began catching up with his earlier serials, including the British dystopian tale "V For Vendetta" and the first of his revisionist hero books, "Miracleman." His work for DC culminated with the 12 issues of "Watchmen," which perfected a cinematic writing style replete with jump cuts, "tracking shots" and close attention to recurring symbols; each issue had its own equivalents to the famous "Rosebud" sled and shattered snow-globe from "Kane."
