TV Retrospective: "Watchmen" (2019)

Scene from Watchmen (2019)

Who really needed another take on Watchmen? The original 12-issue run became a masterpiece of the graphic novel form, and many subsequent editions have mostly failed to capture the glory. Why then did HBO feel the need to adapt the story yet again with one of the most divisive showrunners of the modern era? That is how it looks from the offset, anyways, where any chance of capturing the magic feels like a fool's errand and even in a landscape of high concept dramas, HBO tackling Alan Moore would seem difficult. Add in that this is a sequel of sorts that draws from the material but is not directly referenced, it becomes difficult to understand what makes this show worth doing in the first place. That is until you realize all of the rich subtexts that exists between Moore's version and the one composed by Damon Lindelof and crew that updates the material through 2019 prism that makes the story pop with new life and purpose. It's a story that reflects a society that's evolved from the original Watchmen, and thankfully it's one of the best, most groundbreaking comic book adaptations in modern history.
In the 1980s, what made "Watchmen" such a beloved series was Alan Moore's ability to deconstruct the comic book in such provocative ways. Not only was it playing with the idea of antiheroes, but it questioned why anyone would want to be a hero in the first place. It mixed panels with pages-long stories that all created a world with no true narrator and presented morally grey characters trying to matter. It was also a response to the Cold War paranoia and various other social issues that plagued the culture at the time, including concern over a figure like President Nixon never managing to leave the office and the Vietnam War ending way different than expected. If anything, that version was a nihilistic take on the world and one that doesn't theoretically exist anymore.

It would be fine if Lindelof tried to just take this material and show how the Cold War is not unlike our current political climate. However, he chose to do something even bolder by updating mythology to encapsulate all of the 20th century and beyond. This means that there's room to discuss a riot that happened in Tulsa, Oklahoma decades prior, or how Robert Redford was a president without term limits. There are so many minor changes that feel practical and feel a thought-out understanding of what this world was going for. There's a rise in racial tensions, such as The Seventh Kalvary, caused by Rhorshach's journal. Adrian Veidt (Jeremy Irons) is still alive, but he's living a life trying to find an alternate place to live when the world goes kaput. Small things have been added and every frame feels indebted to some visual reference to the comics.

Most of all, it just feels like an alternate universe of ours. It's a place where the trauma of the squid attack has lead some to sport masks, such as Looking Glass (Tim Blake Nelson), in hopes of being able to project a different image to the world. Only cops can wear masks, and the challenge not to abuse power becomes apparent as they take on the Seventh Kalvary, whose mission to teleport god-powered characters like Dr. Manhattan. There's so much going on that is rich with comic-book iconography, but what Lindelof does it makes it into the adult drama that we didn't know we needed. Characters discuss how they hold themselves together as if one small action can throw them into chaos. They are vulnerable, and it's partially because of a world that has beaten them down.

By the end, Lindelof's greatest gift to the story is deconstructing the use of Hooded Justice. In an episode where Angela (Regina King) is thrown into someone else's memories, she discovers that the hero was not the white man that the history books claimed, but a black one who painted his face with hopes of fighting crime without being profiled. It's in this one move that the show begins to put everything together. Angela is the hero because she has managed to overcome so much personal oppression, such as growing up in an American-owned Vietnam where her parents died. She knows the grief. She's lived with Dr. Manhattan. Discovering that one of the most beloved heroes of Oklahoman mythology was, in fact, black opens doors to wonder what else has been covered up.

There's definitely a lot of that, but at the heart, it's about recontextualizing the past to explore how narratives change. This isn't one meant to have cool effects and whiz-bang action moments (though there's plenty). It's one that asks the hard questions through nine entertaining hours and finds the ideas of race, trauma, and power all being discussed in relation to a coup that develops underneath our noses. We see it all play out, but the general notion is to distrust Lindelof. He is, after all, a challenging and cryptic writer who wants to ask questions. When this show ends with most of them answered, it feels like a miracle. Then again, it's been pitched as a miniseries all along, and the choice to have the story be about Angela coming to terms with her power and place in Oklahoma is a rather touching and small way to bring things to a close. 

The gamble entirely paid off not because it's an homage to what "Watchmen" was, but what it could be. With an excellent score by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross that pierces through every scene with a haunting quality, it manages to make the story feel relevant and fresh for a new generation. There's even endless satire placed into the show, such as American Hero Story (a parody of the FX series American Horror Story) that is more of a jab at the 2009 film adaptation and its excessive violence and sexual brutality. There are so many small details that reflect smart creators inventing a world that is unlike anything else and knowingly winking at the world around them. It's all the more exciting because while every important question has been answered, the questions about what else is in this world remain open. It leaves one to wonder if HBO will foolishly keep going, or if this is a brief glimpse into something greater. Who knows.

Watchmen is one of HBO's greatest shows of the decade, managing to mix spectacle with the thought in a manner that pops with ingenuity and purpose. It manages to leave the viewer becoming entranced by the mystery of the world while delivering on the investment, creating moments that are rich and give the characters something to make them essential to a world that could arguably not need them. Even their extended resources (Peteypedia) has produced plenty of entertainment for those who want to see this world become just as media-diverse as the original. It's a strange little blip on the radar, but there's plenty to be thankful for its existence.