[Author's note: This is a very long post (for me at least, but not necessarily Mr. Elbows). I have been working on this for the last six months, reworking things here and there. Frankly, a few points in this post are quite preachy. I don't know how else to say those things, but since the movie Watchmen is coming out tomorrow, I guess we are just going to have to live with it. Apologies to any I might offend. This is meant as my opinion and not an attack on something you love/admire. Writing this has been an arduous experience for me. While I know most who read this won't be judging my writing style, but the content and opinion I share, I still wanted this to come out as perfect as possible. I have not achieved that to my satisfaction. Please look beyond that in your judgment. Special thanks to my friend Melissa for editing assistance (on all but the last paragraph - if I did something wrong in that, it's my fault) and AoD for formatting assistance as well as for providing me a digital copy of the graphic novel to read.]
that takes another point of view on this issue. I recommend it to everyone.]
Graphic - depicted in a realistic or vivid manner
Novel - a fictitious prose narrative of considerable length and complexity
Graphic Novel - a novel whose narrative is related through a combination of text and art
A Beginning
I was first introduced to graphic novels back when I was a preteen. My family was staying at my aunt's home. I was in my older cousin's room and was bored. So I began to go through his stuff. For a ten-year-old, I hit the jackpot. There, in the bottom drawer, was a collection of what I thought were Conan the Barbarian comics. I thumbed through them and noticed that they weren't quite like the Archie and GI Joe comics my parents let me get. The drawings were fantastic and so realistic. I could see the outline of boobs on the female characters. Boobs. Real Boobs! Not just indiscriminate lumps under a long sleeved shirt. A ten year olds heaven. And the dialogue was stuff I had never read before. I spent the next few hours going over each page, taking in every detail of the drawings. I skipped over most of the text as I found it boring or confusing. (I think I just didn't know the back story.) I just loved watching Conan attack countless evil things during his quest. It left an indelible mark on my memory; now, some 20 years later, I still remember lying on my cousin's water-bed that afternoon.
An Introduction
The first time I actually was told about graphic novels was about five years ago by AoD. He told me I should borrow his copy of
Midnight Nation by J. Michael Straczinsky. I did so. At the time I found it mildly interesting. The art was good, but the story was somewhat lacking. It had nothing to drag me in other than the occasional scantily dressed woman. But the one thing I remember most was how dark it was. There was nothing uplifting about it. I don't honestly remember the point of the story. What I do remember is the darkness. Perhaps that is what the author intended. Perhaps not. To be fair, that wouldn't have been the first time I missed the point of story. But I learned nothing from it.
A Re-Introduction
And most recently my friend Jon Madsen and AoD encouraged me to read
The Watchmen by Alan Moore. I knew going in to it that it was going to be very explicit. But after conversations with both friends I decided to "make the attempt" and judge for myself.
If I were to critique the art work I would have to say that it was nothing special. It got the point across, yes, but I found it rather drab. The story was compelling at first. It was a mystery with "superheroes" as the main characters. I was growing more and more excited as it continued on. But then I slowly started to realize just how graphic this thing was. I won't take the time to detail any of the vivid things. Suffice it to say that I had to check and make sure all the blood I saw was actually only a part of the comic and that I had not dipped my laptop in to a vat of blood. Or accidentally browsed to a soft core "art" website.
Probably what disturbed me the most was how the story ends. Perhaps I have grown accustomed to the happy ending, but it was just dismal. I could find no great point or meaning in the conclusion that was worth holding up for praise or adoration. If I had, I might not be writing this. It seemed to me to just be gruesomeness for its own sake. To be fair, there may be some point that I have missed. I suppose if I squint just right it can be taken as a tale of what happens when people choose to not stop injustices. Please enlighten me if I have missed the point. I am not sure it will change my mind, though.
The Soapbox
Now I am sure that there might be those who are reading this who will disagree with me. You might say that I missed the point entirely. You may very well be right. My powers of deduction and analysis are keen but by no means perfect. So let's work under the assumption that I am wrong and there is some greater meaning the author and illustrator were trying to impart. If there is some overarching point or purpose, then why choose to display or present it with vulgarity, nudity, and violence? Why would you glorify the ugly things of the world to make a point?
You might now argue that the world we live in is not happy, kind, or safe. I agree. But ought we not want to lift ourselves above our more base characteristics? Darkness and unhappiness as a medium can be useful tools as long as there is a point. But to portray them in such a blatant and scintillating way smacks the face of the
13th Article of Faith. I offer three examples to add strength to my position.
Example 1: College Soccer
It did not serve to raise the level of conversation. All it did was shock and offend. Nothing was gained.
I have played soccer my entire life. I love it so much that I often watch the Spanish language television station just so I can see it played. Well, it turns out that I was pretty good in high school (big fish/small pond syndrome), so I decided to play college soccer. I joined the team and soon became a starter. I was well liked by all the guys. They knew my standards and what I believed. I thought that I could be a positive effect on them. I may have been. But they had the more powerful effect on me. At the time I lived at home with my parents. It was not until dinner one evening that I found out how strong their effect on me was. My parents and I were sitting conversing about something when I made what I considered a fairly tame and innocent comment. The table went silent. Both my mother and father stared back at me with open mouths. I stared back and quizzically asked "What?" My father responded with something I shall never forget: "Bud, do you know what you just said?" I didn't.
It turns out that I had used a rather colorful, yet unnecessary, adjective to describe something. I had just sworn in front of my parents. Anyone who grows up on a farm is going to hear the odd curse word; sadly I had used a more "regular" one. Certainly not dinner-table-conversation vocabulary. It may have fit quite well on a soccer field but not in my parents' house. It did not serve to raise the level of conversation. All it did was shock and offend. Nothing was gained.
Example 2: The Family Guy
Doing something in the name of humor is no excuse for debasement, and some things should never become the subject of humor.
I love humor. I see nothing wrong with making myself the butt of a joke to get someone to laugh. Laughing just often feels good. And it can certainly be a good workout, at least a good workout for most couch-potatoes. This naturally carries over in to television. I love to watch funny shows.
I have a friend who used to watch a show called
Family Guy (a highly ironic title to be sure, IMO). Knowing that my tastes coincide so closely with his, he told me I should watch it because it contained such good writing and because I would laugh my head off. So I did. The couple of episodes I saw were quite funny. I indeed laughed because of how good the writing was. But I had to stop. It was unbelievably crude. Nothing was safe or sacred. Doing something in the name of humor is no excuse for debasement, and some things should never become the subject of humor.
Example 3: Hot Rod-ing with Jen
...the real problem was that when I realized it, I did nothing to change the situation.
My sister Jen crashed with me a few months ago while waiting for her train home. I decided to show her one of the funniest films I have ever watched:
Hot Rod. I greatly enjoyed the look of puzzlement and exasperation as she watched this completely farcical movie. Then the jokes began to turn progressively ruder. I had never noticed before how bad it actually was. I always knew it was colorful, but it didn't seem to be "that bad." It wasn't until I had to sit uncomfortably with my sister through several risque lines of dialogue that I realized how bad it was. She never said anything, but I know she was uncomfortable with them. But because I found it entertaining, I didn't think twice about it. While I should have chosen a better movie from the start, the real problem was that when I realized it, I did nothing to change the situation.
A Conclusion
While under many definitions,
The Watchmen can be considered entertaining (a highly subjective word); I know that several of you who are reading this find it to be so. That doesn't necessarily make it worthwhile entertainment. I know that to some of you this may not adequately explain my position. I wish I had another 6 months to more eloquently portray it. I guess the point of all of this is just my way of encouraging you to reach for something cleaner; better; higher. Many of us have those dark areas in our lives that we just don't want to let go of yet. I understand that; for me it is Metallica. But just because you have shades of grey in your life, that does not mean that you should embrace the darkness. Strive for the uplifting. I do not believe that
The Watchmen graphic novel rises to the level of worthwhile entertainment. But as with all things, judge for yourself.
