The Watchmen Prequels: Allow Us To Explain
Essay
Yes, Enough Back Story, Lets Get to the Opinion Stuff
Opinion zone starts now, with some mentions about what matters to me: It doesn’t matter to me whether the new comics are good or not. It doesn’t matter whether they’re successful or not. I don’t care about whether their existence will improve or detract from the experience of reading the original Watchmen. This is not the issue of “UGH SEQUELS” that plagues internet dialogue, and it’s not about bringing back stuff from the ’80s.
Well, okay it’s a little bit about that last one. Okay, maybe it’s a lot about that last one, but in a way that is very specific to Watchmen, I promise. I do care about DC respecting the wishes of Alan Moore, but that’s only a corollary to the point of what I’m about to say.
I am of the opinion that DC Comics making prequels to Watchmen exemplifies the worst trends in the mainstream American comics industry today; the trends that, if the industry isn’t careful, are going to kill it, regardless of the influx of cash they’ll get in the short term. Well, except that there’s been lots of things that were going to kill this comics industry, and none of them have yet (let’s see it get to its 100th birthday in thirty-six years), so they’re at least trends that have been damaging it, and will continue to do so if they’re not recognized.
- An Over-reliance on Nostalgia
I know, I know I said this wasn’t about bringing back stuff from the ’80s. It’s not just about the ’80s, and it’s specifically about Watchmen. Bear with me.
The makers of the Watchmen movie ran into this problem hard when they started writing the screenplay: Watchmen, much like V for Vendetta, is supremely a product of its time and place. (See many of the arguments about racebending Akira.) The fact is, it’s not the ’80s anymore. We’re not habitually horrified by the prospect of total nuclear war and we’re not looking for “the Reds” under every stone. But these are prequels. Which means we’re dipping even further back into the history well and attempting to tell a story that’s in any way relevant to modern times.
The reason why we like superhero stories set in bygone political eras is because we can look back at them with the eyes of nostalgia and say “Wow, things were so black and white, then.” It is fundamentally easier to write stories for a setting whose details have been softened by time, but it is also fundamentally less risky, and, unless the creators work very hard, less likely to present the reader with ideas that make them think hard. And at it’s core, Watchmen was intended to make fans of superhero comics think hard about the behavior they were metaphorically endorsing, the kind of people to whom that behavior would seem attractive, and what that behavior might do to a person’s psyche. It was intended to grab the phrase “but it’s just comics” by the collar and slam it up against a wall.
And lets be clear, I’m not even the biggest fan of Watchmen, or Alan Moore! My personal dislike for some of his favorite literary themes and his text/word ratios balances against my grudging respect for his richly deserved status as a titan of comics history. I’ve never been a huge fan of stories written to have few to zero characters meant to be likeable, under which category Watchment squarely falls. But I also share Alan Moore’s disgusted amazement with those who read the book and take it as an honest hero narrative.
Actual conversation I’ve had with a young dude in a comic shop, shortly before Watchmen hit theaters:
“Hey, Susana, who’s your favorite Watchman?”
“Uh, I dunno. The Comedian.”
“What?! But the Comedian’s a murderer!”
“They’re. All. Murderers. I like the Comedian because even if he’s open about loving murder and shooting his pregnant mistresses in the face, he, unlike everyone else in the book, doesn’t pretend that brutalizing or murdering someone for the “right” reasons makes it better. It just means that people will tolerate you doing it and maybe even pay you.”
But I digress. The Watchmen sequels, set forty to fifty years ago, go hand in hand with an industry reliance on characters and themes that must be “made” relevant, instead of being relevant, characters that must be “rebooted for a modern audience.” Where in some places this process can streamline a character to one that is relevant for any era; more often it loses the original impact they had without a suitable thematic replacement.
- A Reliance on Licenses Rather Than New Ideas
Let it not be said that DC Comics is handing Watchmen spinoffs to just some schmucks. Teams that include Brian Azzarello, Darwyn Cooke, Adam Hughes, Amanda Conner, and Andy and Joe Kubert on their credits are nothing to sneeze at. It almost makes one wonder why DC couldn’t just pay these artists to work on their own original ideas. Haha, except the almost part.
The answer is, of course, that DC and Marvel are not actually in the business of being creative innovators in the comics marketplace. They’re in the business of acquiring licenses to various ideas, and then hiring artists to work on those ideas, some of which are going on eighty years old, instead of their own.
I say this as a woman who wears Batman shoes to work, and reads before bed by the light of a bat-signal shaped lamp from Kids Pottery Barn: what is wrong with new ideas in addition to the old? The downside is you get some comics that are canceled on their eighth issue (much like the six comics based on established characters that are the first cancellations of the New 52). The upside is you might find another Watchmen.
But DC and Marvel are not going to get that that new (spiritual) Watchmen (they’re making a new literal Watchmen anyway), unless they both make a serious commitment to creator rights, the likes of which Alan Moore was denied.
- The Alienation of Artists With Original Ideas
Because as a young writer with aspirations of writing comics, superhero comics, there is nothing about DC and Marvel’s track record on creator rights that makes me want to give them a single idea that I consider to be valuable or unique. Ok, setting aside the hubris of insisting I have original ideas, look… there are innovative writers and artists out there, even if they’re not me. And if they are smart, and savvy, and interested into holding on to their ideas so they can mold them in the way they, as artists, believe is right, they’re going to make a lot of the same decisions. There are simply too many ways for comics people to produce their work these days. Between smaller publishers that respect creator owned work and the internet, heck even mainstream book publishers are putting out graphic novels these days!
DC and Marvel aren’t going to get new ideas unless they’re willing to value the people who created them, and eventually, give or take decades, they might get to a point where, see my first point, they don’t have artists who are capable of making their characters relevant to a modern audience. It’s not impossible to write a modern Superman or Thor story that communicates the value of that character to a wide audience and not just the folks who are already obsessed with them. But it’s hard. It’s a challenge. One I’d enjoy taking up, especially if it meant some industry support for my original ideas later. That is clearly not in the cards, judging by all the high-profile creators I’ve watched leave DC to make their own original works.
These factors are only going to contribute more to the stagnation of the comics market as time goes on. Call it a product of the digital age, call the regular conflict when a new generation of readers clashes against the older elite of the industry they patronize, call it a temporary trend or phase. But I don’t think it is.
I care about the value of new ideas for DC and Marvel. I am a woman who wears Batman shoes to work, and reads before bed by the light of a bat-signal shaped lamp from Kids Pottery Barn, and I care because I like reading more Batman comics.
Picture from the ever relevant Saturday Morning Watchmen.
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