On March 6th 2009 stage two of the maturation process for the comic-book movie will come into force. Watchmen will be released into UK cinemas following the settlement of the legal battle between Warner Bros. and 20th Century Fox over who ‘owns’ the movie. Stage one was of course put into action last year by the money spinning behemoth ‘The Dark Knight’.
Directed by the nice chap who brought us the almost lethal dose of testosterone that was ‘300’, Zack Snyder, Watchmen promises to pick up the baton passed on at a Usain Bolt-like pace by its fellow DC Comics creation and run hell for leather. It would be unfair though to suggest that Watchmen may live up to The Dark Knight as it, like most things, does not have the pulling power of Gotham’s favourite son. It does, however, have the substance needed to carry the genre further into adulthood.
The graphic novel on which the movie is based includes lots of naughty swears, violence, rape, full-frontal nudity, sex (the kinky, costumed type mind) and of course murder. With the movie striding towards us bearing an R rating emblazoned on its muscular, hairy chest, we can gather that Zack Snyder has, as promised, stuck very close to the original source material and not pulled any punches for the sake of box office returns.
So what of this source material? Many may not have even heard of Watchmen, let alone salivated over its imminent arrival. For those people the movie trailer, which can easily be found on the internet, will give you a good indication about the kind of quality source material screenplay writers David Hayter and Alex Tse were blessed with when it says: ‘The most celebrated graphic novel of all time’. It is something else.
The creation of Brits Alan Moore (writer) and Dave Gibbons (illustrator), Watchmen was first published in 1986 and is set in an alternate 1985 that sees political tension between the US and Russia escalating since the introduction of a certain blue doctor (see below).
The characters that play out the story are what make it so spectacular. Alan Moore apparently wanted to use existing DC Comics characters to portray his story in Watchmen, meaning Bats and Supes could have been using all their might to stop World War 3 from beginning as the doomsday clock counted down. Luckily for us all though DC were not keen on the idea and Moore was forced to create his very own fresh batch of crime fighters. Here is a brief summary of what they are about:
Rorschach (Walter Kovacs)
A psychopathic vigilante who refused to throw in the towel when the US
Government said all masked crusaders had to in 1977. He wears a white mask with patterns on it similar to that of a Rorschach test, hence the name. It is because of Walter Kovacs that you will never trust gingers again (that’s if you did before).
The Comedian (Edward Blake)
Don’t let the name fool you, he doesn’t joke about. He is the member of the group with the loosest morals and uses big guns as well as a bigger ego to deploy them. It is the Rorschach-lead investigation into his death that sparks the unravelling of the story.
Nite Owl (Dan Dreiberg)
The sensible one. He has cool gadgets, which include a flying owl-ship, and a suit more akin to the usual DC superhero attire, i.e. mask, cape, etc. He retired from vigilante work when the government said so and has developed a bit of a gut since then. Dan Dreiberg is in fact Nite Owl mark II, as he took over the reins from Hollis Mason when he grew too long in the tooth.
Silk Spectre (Laurie Juspeczyk)
If ‘sex sells’ Silk Spectre will have Watchmen stimulating the economy as much it will the lecherous fanboys. She is the attraction for the Nuts readers, but don’t let that put you off, she doesn’t shy away from her duty. It is also her complicated relationships with her fellow crime fighters that prevent them all from being filed among the also-rans populating most half-hearted comic-book adaptations. Laurie Juspeczyk, like Dan Dreiberg, is another second edition of the same hero, having been pretty much forced into taking over the role from and by her retired mum, Sally Jupiter.
Dr. Manhattan (Jon Osterman)
The only ‘superhero’ of the bunch, in that he is the only one with ‘powers’. Imagine if Superman didn’t give a flying eff about the fate of the human race, purely because he was too intelligent to waste his time thinking of such infantile things; then you will have an idea of what this chap is all about. He can multiply himself, appear wherever he wants (including Mars) whenever he wants, lift anything, create and destroy objects at will and grow to sizes which would make the proposed Angel of the South look like a miniature pony. Some might say he also has a distinctive look, being completely blue and bald.
Ozymandias (Adrian Veidt)
The most intelligent human in the world. He uses his crime fighting image as a vehicle for his vast business empire. If Bill Gates, Stephen Hawking and [insert favoured hard man] fused together like the girls on those Lynx adverts, Adrian Veidt would emerge from the smoke smiling wryly back at you.
They are the heroes and they are the villains. Each has a dark side to their personality, whether it be murderous, adulterous or ignorant, neither of the above are what you would expect a hero to be, having grown used to the merry Marvel marching band.
The title of the book is a reference to the quote by Roman poet Juvenal, ‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?’, which roughly translates as ‘Who watches the watchmen?’ and appears as graffiti throughout the disgruntled New York streets. It rouses ideas of the abuse of power which no other comic book movie has questioned when looking solely at the heroes within it, such dilemmas are reserved almost exclusively for the megalomaniac ‘baddies’.
Watchmen the movie will not be a literal translation of Watchmen the graphic novel. The ending has been altered. This may be a very good thing as the ending to the graphic novel is a little weak and far-fetched, but who is to say that the new ending has not been fetched from farther? Only time will tell. And with the doomsday clock counting down to March 6th the question answered by the title of this blog must be asked:
Who should watch the Watchmen?
Thursday 12 February 2009
Tuesday 10 February 2009
Shine a light
The Villa are good now. The day Blues fans have been dreading is finally upon us as the claret and blue side of the West Midlands readies itself for years of competing at the very top of the best league in the world.
Some may say that Aston Villa deserve nothing less than to be rubbing shoulders with the big boys and forcing that ‘Big Four’ to jump up a digit, or alternatively get rid of some dead wood. After all, Aston Villa do have a prestigious history that extends far beyond that of Manchester United, Liverpool and Chelsea, being one of the 12 teams that started the first division back in 1888. If you believe Wikipedia (which you shouldn’t) it was actually Villa’s director William McGregor who founded the league.
So yes, Villa do have a prestigious history, one that many ‘new-money’ teams aspire to buy, to which many fans revel in reminding them of the impossibility of such a feat.
However, football has to be played in the here-and-now, not in yesteryear; in this quality Villa have previously lacked lustre. Sure Villa won the league cup twice in the 1990s and reached the F.A. Cup in 2000, but for a team of Villa’s credibility, such achievements leave a lot to be desired. And the Villa fans have done a lot of desiring, relying heavily on the aforementioned history whenever a Bluenose would pipe up about the huge defeats Birmingham City incurred upon their fierce rivals when the former arrived in England’s top flight.
But the days of Enckelman-slips seem like a distant memory when we glance at the Premier League table today. Villa sit very pretty in third, two points ahead of Chelsea and only five from that illustrious number one spot.
As a West Ham fan that grew up in Birmingham, it breaks my heart to see Villa doing so well. The club is a shining beacon of light to the rest of the glutinous trophy-hungry toy ships of billionaires mingling around them. Even my beloved West Ham should take a leaf, no, a few chapters, out of Villa’s book. But that is what hurts so much. I had to turn up to school and face the ridicule of my tactless peers when the ‘mighty’ Irons succumbed to relegation in 2003. When this happened I hung tight to the fact that Villa were mind numbingly boring; firing out mid-table after mid-table finish. I defended West Ham with the fact that at least relegation is heart wrenching enough to provide us masochistic Hammers fans with the entertainment that is our life-blood. However, this defence will no longer hold up if Sheffield United get their way and we are dumped into the Championship again because, as I said before, Villa are good now. Not only this, but Villa will get better and better. Randy Learner, Martin O’Neill et al have laid foundations which will ensure Aston Villa have a future in the top four, three, two or even one of the Premier League.
Villa do everything right; they buy English players, don’t pay through the nose for them, play attractive football, invest in their already stellar youth system, give money to charity, and generally show the Liverpools, Tottenhams and Manchester Cities of this world that they really should be ashamed of themselves. They do things so well that I could easily fall in love with Aston Villa. But the Villa fans that made me cry about going to school when West Ham lost to Stockport years ago have guaranteed that will never happen. There is also a great deal of Villa fans who will show zero humility in this golden age they have entered.
So, I will carry on hating Villa fans with a shameless glint of envy in my eye as I see them crawl out of the woodwork to promptly hop on the fastest bandwagon in the West. But I will gladly embrace those who have been waiting for this moment in time for years, and who will enjoy every minute of it with proud modesty.
Up the Villa…until you play the Irons.
Some may say that Aston Villa deserve nothing less than to be rubbing shoulders with the big boys and forcing that ‘Big Four’ to jump up a digit, or alternatively get rid of some dead wood. After all, Aston Villa do have a prestigious history that extends far beyond that of Manchester United, Liverpool and Chelsea, being one of the 12 teams that started the first division back in 1888. If you believe Wikipedia (which you shouldn’t) it was actually Villa’s director William McGregor who founded the league.
So yes, Villa do have a prestigious history, one that many ‘new-money’ teams aspire to buy, to which many fans revel in reminding them of the impossibility of such a feat.
However, football has to be played in the here-and-now, not in yesteryear; in this quality Villa have previously lacked lustre. Sure Villa won the league cup twice in the 1990s and reached the F.A. Cup in 2000, but for a team of Villa’s credibility, such achievements leave a lot to be desired. And the Villa fans have done a lot of desiring, relying heavily on the aforementioned history whenever a Bluenose would pipe up about the huge defeats Birmingham City incurred upon their fierce rivals when the former arrived in England’s top flight.
But the days of Enckelman-slips seem like a distant memory when we glance at the Premier League table today. Villa sit very pretty in third, two points ahead of Chelsea and only five from that illustrious number one spot.
As a West Ham fan that grew up in Birmingham, it breaks my heart to see Villa doing so well. The club is a shining beacon of light to the rest of the glutinous trophy-hungry toy ships of billionaires mingling around them. Even my beloved West Ham should take a leaf, no, a few chapters, out of Villa’s book. But that is what hurts so much. I had to turn up to school and face the ridicule of my tactless peers when the ‘mighty’ Irons succumbed to relegation in 2003. When this happened I hung tight to the fact that Villa were mind numbingly boring; firing out mid-table after mid-table finish. I defended West Ham with the fact that at least relegation is heart wrenching enough to provide us masochistic Hammers fans with the entertainment that is our life-blood. However, this defence will no longer hold up if Sheffield United get their way and we are dumped into the Championship again because, as I said before, Villa are good now. Not only this, but Villa will get better and better. Randy Learner, Martin O’Neill et al have laid foundations which will ensure Aston Villa have a future in the top four, three, two or even one of the Premier League.
Villa do everything right; they buy English players, don’t pay through the nose for them, play attractive football, invest in their already stellar youth system, give money to charity, and generally show the Liverpools, Tottenhams and Manchester Cities of this world that they really should be ashamed of themselves. They do things so well that I could easily fall in love with Aston Villa. But the Villa fans that made me cry about going to school when West Ham lost to Stockport years ago have guaranteed that will never happen. There is also a great deal of Villa fans who will show zero humility in this golden age they have entered.
So, I will carry on hating Villa fans with a shameless glint of envy in my eye as I see them crawl out of the woodwork to promptly hop on the fastest bandwagon in the West. But I will gladly embrace those who have been waiting for this moment in time for years, and who will enjoy every minute of it with proud modesty.
Up the Villa…until you play the Irons.
Thursday 5 February 2009
Won't somebody think of the children?
January. A month of depression. It’s so cold that the hands of the worker bees are unable to rub together the few pennies they have remaining after the ‘festive’ period. Is there a glimmer of light amongst this incessantly grey sky?
There used to be, but it has been snuffed out by the childish behaviour of bored entrepreneurs.
I am talking of the January transfer window.
As Christmas crept up on us, adopting the most camp woolly hat and stripy jumper combo in an attempt to pull off a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing look, the January transfer window gave many something to occupy their thoughts other than impending debt. The appeal is obvious; every human being likes gossip. Women enjoy gossiping about people they know, people they don’t, people that are yet to exist and/ or people whose existence has come to an end. They do this on a regular basis. Whereas men stand back with upturned noses thinking ‘Bloody women, always gossiping’, as they take a big, manly gulp of their big, manly beer. However, when that beer comes to rest, briefly, beside the beer mat that it should be on, the men will say “Have you heard about [insert football team] being linked with [insert unlikely signing]?”. That is man-gossip (or ‘Mossip’ as I prefer to call it in accordance with my word-fusing fad).
Mossip is everywhere, and January is mossip’s goldilocks zone – everything is just right. It's dark, we’re poor, cold, fat dealing with the anti-climax of Christmas and New Year (that we really should have come to expect by now) and annoyed because of all of the above. What better way to treat your depression than by absorbing rumours and regurgitating them to feed your obsession in some kind of gossip shaped bulimia. There is no better way of fuelling your habit than by perching yourself in front of the budgie’s mirror that is Sky Sport’s News.
Sky Sports News is free and when you watch it in your house you can either have the heating on or go for the environmentally, and wallet, friendly option of immersing yourself in a duvet-cocoon (ducoon?). Once tucked away like a caterpillar you will not be able to get to the kitchen without becoming cold again, thereby ruling out the possibility of piling on the pounds through the consumption of unhealthy foods. Plus, as that bloke who used to be on Blue Peter reels off the same transfer rumours for the 18th time that day you will be thinking ‘Santa who?’ and ‘Auld Lang what?’. The January transfer window is the cure for the post-festive blues.
At least it used to be.
The puerile actions of supposedly savvy gents have tarnished the transfer window so much that we are left with the white-out reserved for unsuccessful businesses. These participants have made themselves look like awful clowns. Here (in no particular order) is a quick breakdown of the transfer-related idiocies we laughed at nervously in January:
1. Craig ‘Let me go to your most hated rivals’ Bellamy.
2. How much Manchester City paid for Nigel de Jong.
3. How many times Manchester City tried to buy Roque Santa Cruz.
4. Manchester City then being unable to justify spending £25million on Roque Santa Cruz.
5. The Kaka saga.
6. Manchester City.
7. AC Milan’s attempted theft of the jewel in the MLS tiara.
8. Charles Insomnia.
9. How much Wigan paid for ‘Charlie’.
10. Harry Redknapp’s explicit shopping list.
11. Tottenham buying back Jermain Defoe.
12. Tottenham buying back Pascal Chimbonda.
13. Tottenham buying back Robbie Keane.
14. Tottenham.
15. Liverpool selling Robbie Keane.
16. How much Liverpool sold Robbie Keane for.
17. Liverpool.
18. Andrei Arshavin’s light switch transfer to Arsenal.
19. Julien Faubert’s loan to Real Madrid.
20. Carlton Cole being linked with Juventus.
The 20 points above are not to be taken lightly; they display in HD quality the beginning of the end for football. Although people now ask “What team do you support?” they will soon be saying “Whose transfers are you interested in?”. The real ‘game’ is being played in offices by juvenile business-folk who have absolutely no interest in the magic happening on the turf every week. They are purely interested in results, and results are not what count in football; what is done with the football is what really counts, results should be seen as a mere by-product of such talent. The tremendous skill possessed by the likes of Kaka is glossed over by the astronomical figures welded to their names as a way of proliferating ticket and shirt sales in an attempt to boost profits. The Premier League is Football Manager for billionaires.
Ironically, the child-like actions of few have taken the fun out of the transfer window for everyone. It brings to mind when you play-fight with a sibling, only for a responsible adult to shout “It’ll all end in tears!”.
Even stranger is the way that this immaturity has forced the transfer window into becoming a carbon copy of the ultimate O.A.P. trap – bingo. The wealthy teams assume the role of the callers; hollering random, huge numbers to the financially challenged in the hope they will shout “House!” and hold up their star-player so he can be checked and then exchanged for vast sums of money.
Even when played by the mature population Bingo is the most ridiculous version of gambling to have been created by mankind; however, when played by the less-mature it becomes a poor joke in the repertoire of unfunny clowns.
When children can't play nice, they shouldn't be allowed to play at all. Shut the window.
There used to be, but it has been snuffed out by the childish behaviour of bored entrepreneurs.
I am talking of the January transfer window.
As Christmas crept up on us, adopting the most camp woolly hat and stripy jumper combo in an attempt to pull off a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing look, the January transfer window gave many something to occupy their thoughts other than impending debt. The appeal is obvious; every human being likes gossip. Women enjoy gossiping about people they know, people they don’t, people that are yet to exist and/ or people whose existence has come to an end. They do this on a regular basis. Whereas men stand back with upturned noses thinking ‘Bloody women, always gossiping’, as they take a big, manly gulp of their big, manly beer. However, when that beer comes to rest, briefly, beside the beer mat that it should be on, the men will say “Have you heard about [insert football team] being linked with [insert unlikely signing]?”. That is man-gossip (or ‘Mossip’ as I prefer to call it in accordance with my word-fusing fad).
Mossip is everywhere, and January is mossip’s goldilocks zone – everything is just right. It's dark, we’re poor, cold, fat dealing with the anti-climax of Christmas and New Year (that we really should have come to expect by now) and annoyed because of all of the above. What better way to treat your depression than by absorbing rumours and regurgitating them to feed your obsession in some kind of gossip shaped bulimia. There is no better way of fuelling your habit than by perching yourself in front of the budgie’s mirror that is Sky Sport’s News.
Sky Sports News is free and when you watch it in your house you can either have the heating on or go for the environmentally, and wallet, friendly option of immersing yourself in a duvet-cocoon (ducoon?). Once tucked away like a caterpillar you will not be able to get to the kitchen without becoming cold again, thereby ruling out the possibility of piling on the pounds through the consumption of unhealthy foods. Plus, as that bloke who used to be on Blue Peter reels off the same transfer rumours for the 18th time that day you will be thinking ‘Santa who?’ and ‘Auld Lang what?’. The January transfer window is the cure for the post-festive blues.
At least it used to be.
The puerile actions of supposedly savvy gents have tarnished the transfer window so much that we are left with the white-out reserved for unsuccessful businesses. These participants have made themselves look like awful clowns. Here (in no particular order) is a quick breakdown of the transfer-related idiocies we laughed at nervously in January:
1. Craig ‘Let me go to your most hated rivals’ Bellamy.
2. How much Manchester City paid for Nigel de Jong.
3. How many times Manchester City tried to buy Roque Santa Cruz.
4. Manchester City then being unable to justify spending £25million on Roque Santa Cruz.
5. The Kaka saga.
6. Manchester City.
7. AC Milan’s attempted theft of the jewel in the MLS tiara.
8. Charles Insomnia.
9. How much Wigan paid for ‘Charlie’.
10. Harry Redknapp’s explicit shopping list.
11. Tottenham buying back Jermain Defoe.
12. Tottenham buying back Pascal Chimbonda.
13. Tottenham buying back Robbie Keane.
14. Tottenham.
15. Liverpool selling Robbie Keane.
16. How much Liverpool sold Robbie Keane for.
17. Liverpool.
18. Andrei Arshavin’s light switch transfer to Arsenal.
19. Julien Faubert’s loan to Real Madrid.
20. Carlton Cole being linked with Juventus.
The 20 points above are not to be taken lightly; they display in HD quality the beginning of the end for football. Although people now ask “What team do you support?” they will soon be saying “Whose transfers are you interested in?”. The real ‘game’ is being played in offices by juvenile business-folk who have absolutely no interest in the magic happening on the turf every week. They are purely interested in results, and results are not what count in football; what is done with the football is what really counts, results should be seen as a mere by-product of such talent. The tremendous skill possessed by the likes of Kaka is glossed over by the astronomical figures welded to their names as a way of proliferating ticket and shirt sales in an attempt to boost profits. The Premier League is Football Manager for billionaires.
Ironically, the child-like actions of few have taken the fun out of the transfer window for everyone. It brings to mind when you play-fight with a sibling, only for a responsible adult to shout “It’ll all end in tears!”.
Even stranger is the way that this immaturity has forced the transfer window into becoming a carbon copy of the ultimate O.A.P. trap – bingo. The wealthy teams assume the role of the callers; hollering random, huge numbers to the financially challenged in the hope they will shout “House!” and hold up their star-player so he can be checked and then exchanged for vast sums of money.
Even when played by the mature population Bingo is the most ridiculous version of gambling to have been created by mankind; however, when played by the less-mature it becomes a poor joke in the repertoire of unfunny clowns.
When children can't play nice, they shouldn't be allowed to play at all. Shut the window.
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