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HBO’s Watchmen Series is Chillingly Relevant

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as Dr. Manhattan in HBO’s Watchmen limited series.

Alan Moore named his 1986 comic Watchmen after a quote from the Roman poet Juvenal: Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? “Who watches the watchmen?”

When Moore and artist David Gibbons reworked some moribund characters from the defunct Charlton comics, the Reagan ’80s were in full swing in America, and Margaret Thatcher was imposing austerity in the artists’ native Britain. Three years earlier, when Moore was first pitching the story to DC, the NATO Able Archer 83 military exercise had almost led to a full-on nuclear war with the Soviet Union. The work, which would later be called “the moment comics grew up,” was suffused with apocalyptic fear and profound disillusionment. The institutions we had created to protect us were out of control and threatening to destroy human civilization. Moore’s thesis, that the comic book superheroes we loved were secretly fascist thugs, was echoed in the other big comic book hit of 1986, Frank Miller’s Batman reboot The Dark Knight Returns. But Miller celebrated violent vigilantism because it made for good comic images. Watchmen was Moore’s warning about a fascist future.

The Seventh Kavalry

When HBO tapped producer Damon Lindelof to create a sequel series to Watchmen, he cast around for a contemporary issue that would resonate as deeply as the reckless rush to nuclear war had in 1986. Moore was out of the picture — he has not endorsed any adaptation of his work since the disasters that were the The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen films. Besides, Watchmen was explicitly a comic about comics. Even though the 2009 Zack Snyder adaptation of Watchmen was successful when it strove to faithfully reproduce scenes from the comics (I cried when Dr. Manhattan went into exile on Mars), it was still blasphemy as far as Moore was concerned.

What Lindelof came up with was the persistence of racism as an organizing principle of American society. Now, nine months after its debut on HBO, Lindelof looks prescient. The Watchmen series is so much better than we ever could have hoped for. And now, for Juneteenth, HBO has made the series available for free outside their paywall.

Regina King as Sister Night

Like the original, this Watchmen features a sprawling cast of characters. The most vibrant and poignant of the bunch is Sister Night (Regina King), aka Angela Abar, a former officer in the Tulsa police department who now fights crime as a costumed vigilante. The Commissioner Gordon to her Batman is Judd Crawford (Don Johnson), the Tulsa chief of police whose suspicious suicide by hanging sets off an investigation that will expose both a deep-seated white supremacist movement in government and a plot to regain the power that created quantum superhero Dr. Manhattan (played in different stages of life by Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Zak Rothera-Oxley, and Darrell Snedeger).

Tim Blake Nelson as Looking Glass and Regina King as Sister Night

What’s most eerie about watching Lindelof’s Watchmen in 2020 is the police department’s use of masks. After the events of Watchmen (the graphic novel and the film adaptation), the superheroes who had been outlaws were accepted as adjuncts of the police.
Universal masking was adapted after an incident in which the racist terrorists The Seventh Kavalry, inspired by the posthumous writings of the Watchman Rorschach, had murdered police officers in their homes. Now that masks are de rigueur in the real world, it connects the fiction to our own apocalyptic atmosphere.

But the series’ critique of race relations in America is what really resonates in the long, hot summer of 2020. Allies emerge in unexpected places, and the villains are hiding in plain sight. Opening the series with a recreation of the Tulsa Massacre of 1921, in which white supremacist gangs destroyed an affluent black neighborhood, turned out to be a stroke of genius.

Since comic book superhero narratives have become the dominant onscreen form in the last decade, it’s a relief to see something as meaty and timely as this. I’ll fully admit that I was extremely skeptical of the endeavor — let’s just say I have not been a fan of Lindelof’s previous work — but this Watchmen is a most worthy successor to Moore’s masterpiece.

HBO’s Watchmen Series is Chillingly Relevant

Watchmen is being re-broadcast on HBO this weekend in its entirety. It is also available on HBO Max streaming service.

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Film/TV Film/TV/Etc. Blog

Us

Lupita Nyong’o turns in a performance for the ages in Us.

People don’t know how to react to Jordan Peele.

I was fortunate enough to get a preview of Us with an audience, and if you’ve ever been to a horror movie with a mostly black crowd in Memphis, you know it’s one of the greatest filmgoing experiences you can possibly have. To put it politely, people are loud and opinionated. If your movie sucks, you’re going to know about it.

Us scared the crap out of that audience, while also keeping them in stitches. When Peele really started to turn the screws, the audience reacted with a kind of scream-laugh, as if half of them were watching The Exorcist and the other half was watching Monty Python. Maybe they were both right.

Peele’s big screen directorial debut, Get Out, was an epoch-making art horror that built political allegory on a solid psychological horror foundation. Us is not overtly political — or at least, not overtly about white supremacy like Get Out. It’s tempting to call it a genre exercise, but it’s more like a genre expansion. Peele went diving deep to the subconscious to find the scariest images possible — our self image.

Nyong’o does double duty as hero and villain.

The heart of the film is a stunning performance by Lupita Nyong’o, doing double duty as both protagonist and antagonist. As Adelaide, she lays a veneer of normalcy over a deep well of trauma. We first meet Adelaide as a child (played by Madison Curry) on a tense night in 1986 at the Santa Cruz boardwalk (famously featured in The Lost Boys) with her father (Yahya Abdul Mateen II) and mother (Ann Diop). She wanders into a funhouse with the evocative name Shaman’s Vision Quest and, in the hall of mirrors, meets herself. Peele builds tension with pacing and visual composition, shooting the carnival like Hitchcock’s Strangers On A Train. He uses stillness and symmetry to unnerve.

When we meet Adelaide as a grown-up, she has a loving, if goofy, husband Gabe (Winston Duke) and two kids, Zora (Shahadi Wright) and Jason (Evan Alex). The upper-middle-class family goes to their beach house for summer vacation, and for a little while Gabe is the star of an awkward dad comedy. He drags the family back to the Santa Cruz boardwalk to hang out with his friend Josh (Tim Heidecker, louting deliciously). Adelaide, already on edge, is forced to make small talk with Josh’s wife Kitty, played by Elizabeth Moss having the time of her life swilling rosé and asking all the wrong questions. Then, after the trip has turned into the worst beach visit since Jaws, a duplicate family shows up in their driveway. Peele switches gears and a slasher dynamic takes over. He makes a feint towards torture porn before transitioning into a fast zombie scenario. Finally, with an echo of the church door shot from Prince Of Darkness, Us blossoms into full John Carpenter paranoia mode.

There is a hint of Tarantino postmodern pastiche going on here, but it’s not empty referencing. Peele isn’t showing off his knowledge, he just doesn’t give a damn about your genre expectations. He’s incredibly fluent in the cinematic languages of suspense, horror, and comedy, and he’s remixing them according to his own muse. Most importantly, Peele is not just using not just using images for visual inspiration, he grasps the meaning of the images. When he frames Nyong’o in a brightly lit doorway like John Wayne at the end of The Searchers, it means that she is leaving human society behind, probably for good. But Peele subtly reverses the shot — Ethan was leaving civilization to wander the wilderness, while Adelaide is descending into inner darkness.

Us roots itself in the subconscious from the get-go, and then weaponizes it against you. As Red, Adelaide’s scratchy-voiced doppleganger, Nyong’o is like a walking anxiety dream. She’s regret about the road not taken mixed with the call of the void and armed with a pair of cruel shears.

Ultimately, the most important artist Peele references is himself: The image from Get Out of tears streaming down a black face frozen in silent horror, unable to look away, recurs (at least) twice, with both Adelaide and Red. The pair are tethered together, doomed by forces they don’t understand to enact psychic and physical violence on each other. We cannot escape or bury the darkness in our subconscious, and even trying invites disaster. We have met the enemy, and she is Us.

Us