Watchmen and philosophy

Last night I finally got around to watching Watchmen, the 2009 film of Alan Moore's comic book. I had been looking forward to it because a few of my philosophical friends had told me that Watchmen is full of interesting philosophical perspectives.

While it's true that you could use the film as a springboard for philosophical discussions (e.g.; which character is more moral: the profoundly detached Dr. Manhattan or the psychopathically utilitarian Ozymandias?), I found myself disappointed on the philosophical front. At first I wasn't sure why, because the film does clearly present a range of philosophically interesting ideas. Today, I finally put my finger on the problem.

Philosophy isn't just ideas. Philosophy is about what we care about.

I loved the way Watchmen was shot, the central idea that people who go in for masked crime-fighting probably aren't in it for pure reasons (liberty, justice and the American dream), the action sequences (I could actually tell what was happening!) and the fabulous opening sequence with the iconic blood-spattered smiley face. What I didn't love was a single one of the characters, the world it was set in or the complexities of the story.

I found myself emotionally detached from the film the entire way through. I didn't care what happened, because the characters were uninteresting and the fictional world unbearably bleak and devoid of hope. I don't know how much of this is due to the original graphic novel, as I haven't yet read it, though I do know the film adaption of Moore's V for Vendetta doesn't commit the same sins. I don't think this is just a matter of my temperament or my particular relationship to the text. Watchmen felt as if the filmmakers were so engrossed in visual mastery and ideas that they forgot to throw in anything to make the viewer care. The world is ugly, the characters lack character. I didn't even catch most of their names, superhero or ordinary. I recall the Comedian, who dies in the first few minutes of the film, and the Silk Spectre, who retires in the opening credits. The main character (who, I discovered through Google, is actually the second Silk Spectre) was unmemorable enough that she remains in my mind 'the chick who played Tess in 27 Dresses'.

In response to this, my literature-loving self screams in protest. This is not the ideal relationship between fiction and philosophy! Fiction can, and often does, make philosophical ideas apparent, but it contributes nothing to philosophy if it doesn't first and foremost make us care. All fiction is philosophy, and films that are overt about it (like Watchmen) often do a terrible job at communicating it. (I blogged here about the relationship between fantasy fiction and philosophy, a relationship which at its best is a match made in Heaven.)

Fiction is the place where philosophy plays the heartstrings.

Philosophy is Gandalf plummeting into blackness because some things are more important than the life of a grand wizard (The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring). Philosophy is Satine and Christian struggling with the conflicts between prostitution and would-be monogamous love (Moulin Rouge). Philosophy is Guido's unshakeable conviction that life is beautiful despite the horrors of WWII (Life is Beautiful). Philosophy is the clash between giving to the poor and obeying the law (any version of Robin Hood). Philosophy is the realisation that love actually is all around (Love Actually). Philosophy is the feminism in freely choosing marriage and a domestic life (Mona Lisa Smile).

Philosophy is intrinsically bound up in what we care about, or it is nothing.

Graphic novels and 'the gang'

If you watch Australian TV, you may have noticed that Jennifer Byrne is suddenly everywhere (just this week she was a guest on both The 7pm Project and Talkin' 'Bout Your Generation). Sometimes I watch her First Tuesday Book Club, sometimes I don't. When I do, I usually find myself annoyed by the invariably literary nature of the books deemed worthy of the First Tuesday treatment, but I suppose one must make concessions for the fact that the audience of the show probably consists mostly of 'literature' readers.

A couple of weeks ago the ABC ran a special on Graphic Novels, presented by Jennifer Byrne. Why, I ask you? Why Jennifer Byrne? The woman may read a lot for her job, but this scarcely qualifies her to make informed comments on graphic novels. Her lack of grounding in the medium showed (to me, anyway), and much of the show seemed devoted to determining whether graphic novels have (or deserve) literary legitimacy. Which is somewhat beside the point. The audience that enjoys graphic novels knows that something doesn't have to meet the narrow definition of 'literature' to be good, to be worth reading, to be insightful and enjoyable and thought-provoking.

There was one part of the show I enjoyed- the part where the fabulous Eddie Campbell told it like it is. This is from the transcript:

JENNIFER BYRNE: I mean, this is part of - Sophie isn't the only one - there is talk of, finally, a focus on graphic novels as a serious form. Is it true or is it just...

EDDIE CAMPBELL: That's just what I hear. I hear that we've finally been accepted by the culture at large but at the same time, we still get... If this was true, I would be invited here... I'd be invited on shows for being an interesting personality but we still get invited everywhere as a gang.

JENNIFER BYRNE: The gang of...?

EDDIE CAMPBELL: We'll do something different this week. Get me a gang of graphic novelists.

Of course, he was right. The smugness of the First Tuesday attitude shows in the fact that graphic novels aren't considered worthy texts for the book club, and need to be presented in a separate 'special'.

You can view the special or read the transcript here.

Would the real Sherlock Holmes please stand up?

I posted here about how the book is not always better than the film, and how I enjoyed the recent Sherlock Holmes film. I've since had several friends mention to me that they were disappointed with the film, in virtue of the characters being so different from those written by Conan Doyle. 'That's fair enough,' I thought, 'You have to draw the line somewhere. You don't get to go around claiming a film is based on a book if it doesn't even use the same story or characters.'

After all, everyone knows that Sherlock Holmes was a reserved private detective who spent his time smoking a pipe whilst sitting in a wingbacked chair, the picture of civility. It's all incredibly sedate and English. Right?

Robert Downey Jr., on the other hand, plays him as:

• a detective consulted by police
• eccentric
• energetic
• alcoholic (when without work)
• brash
• a prizefighter

Imagine my surprise when I started reading the Sherlock Holmes books and found that Holmes actually is all of these things! With one exception- in the books, Holmes has a cocaine habit when out of work. We can safely assume that the cocaine was substituted with alcohol in the film for the purposes of winning the sympathy of modern audiences (at the time, cocaine use was considered a vice, but not a terrible one).

Shouldn't the Sherlock Holmes fans be praising Guy Ritchie for presenting the rich, endearing true nature of Holmes to the world? (Not to mention for turning an English cliche into a fresh adventure story?)

Never buy...

There are just some books I would simply never buy. Here's a few examples:


The book that tells you where to shop for clothes. Seriously. The only person who knows your shopping needs is you. Do a bit of research.
Instead, for inspiration: Grace Kelly Style: Fashion for Hollywood's Princess , The Sartorialist

The book with the film poster as cover art, so that film-going shoppers won't have to tax themselves too much trying to identify the book-the-film-was-based-on in the bookstore. You're smarter than that, right?

Instead: The Field Guide: The Spiderwick Chronicles: Book 1, The Lord of the Rings, Inkheart

Aren't they so much prettier?

The book you think you 'have to read' because everybody else has.
Here's a brilliant little-known: Girl in Hyacinth Blue

The cookbook without pictures. (Shudder!)
Here's some cookbooks I've had success with: Frost Bite: Everyday Food Fresh from the Freezer, Real Food: Healthy, Delicious, Easy to Prepare

The book that tells you how to be happy. I've never seen one that worked.
Try instead: Emotional Intelligence: Why it Can Matter More Than IQ, Happiness, Enough: Breaking Free from the World of More

The film of the book

One of the things I most often hear over the counter at work is that “the book is always better than the film.” Well, the customer is not always right. I beg to differ. While in the public consciousness books and films enjoy a long history of antagonism, their actual relationship is one of mutual support.

Angela Meyer, in her awesome booky blog last month, pointed out that our “generation learns everything backwards –

Team Darcy

So I saw New Moon last night. It was god-awful, though not quite as god-awful as Twilight. Unfortunately this also meant it did not provide as much amusement as Twilight did. Of course I'm talking about the film, not the book, because I refuse to (publicly) judge something I haven't read.

Anyway, I didn't get the film. I didn't understand who I was supposed to be rooting for, or why I was supposed to care what happened to any of the characters. Except maybe Jacob. Victoria was kind of cool, but I suspect I wasn't supposed to think so. I do think I finally understand all that 'Team Edward'/'Team Jacob' stuff. As I see it, this is how it stands:

JACOB
Pros: hotness; charm; charisma; allows Bella her own autonomy; funny; fun to hang out with
Cons: might accidentally scratch half her face off

EDWARD
Pros: ... Um ... (thinking really, really hard) ... No, I've got nothing.
Cons: way too pale; looks like he's about to cry all the time; no sense of humour whatsoever; makes Bella depressed; has a strong desire to eat Bella; stalks her; won't allow her to make her own life choices

OK, I suppose that makes me Team Jacob. Except that I think Jacob could do way better than Bella. I think Jacob belongs in a different film altogether. In any case, Jacob is all well and good but he ain't no Darcy. At least in Pride & Prejudice the Byronic Darcy meets his match in Lizzy (as opposed to taking over her entire life and controlling her), and I don't have to feel like an old perv for having a little crush on him.

Now, for your viewing enjoyment, a picture almost as weird and impossible to understand as the film:

Stuff White People Like on films based on books

On forthcoming films based on books:

"[T]hese announcements create a ticking time bomb where by a white person must read the book in ADVANCE of the release of the movie. This is done partly so that they can engage in the popular activity of complaining about how the movie failed to capture the essence of the book. But more importantly, once a book has been made into a movie, a white person can no longer read that book. To have read the book after the movie is one of the great crimes in white culture, and under no circumstances should you ever admit to doing this."

Read the full entry here.

Sometimes, though, the film is better. I think this is the case with The Lord of the Rings, but I know that's controversial.

Lost in Austen

I came a little late to Lost in Austen (coming late to TV shows is a deliberate habit of mine- I prefer them on recommendation and on DVD), but when I finally popped the first disc into the player and settled back with the thought 'I'll just watch one episode,' I found myself compelled to watch the next... and the next... and the last.

The show follows Amanda Price, a modern girl who inadvertently swaps places with Elizabeth Bennet, finding herself in the world of Pride & Prejudice, right at the beginning of Austen's classic story. From there, everything starts to go wrong and Amanda desperately tries to make events follow the book (most of the time, she only makes things worse).

I've never been a purist when it comes to film and TV adaptions of books (after all, what's interesting on the page is so often boring on the screen) and the series is probably best avoided by those who think the role of an adapted screenplay is to slavishly copy every detail of the original text. Pride & Prejudice is one of my absolute favourite books, but nonetheless I am unashamed to admit that I enjoyed every moment of this adaption, which works to honour the book as well as highlight the irony of modern girls daydreaming about a 'romantic' world in which most of their liberties would be removed.

Some favourite moments: Amanda's 'postmodern moment' (pictured), and the vindication of Mrs. Bennet. If you're planning on watching the series, watch out for these!

Some observations: it's interesting that the show, like many readers, seems to conflate the BBC series with the book. It has always mystified me that the literary buffs, usually so nit-picky when it comes to screen adaptions, embrace the Colin Firth version so readily. It seems that Colin Firth's Darcy is Darcy (forget Austen's Darcy who, dare I say, was somewhat different). I suspect this has something to do with the fact that many readers saw the series first. It is a bit of a shame that it seems to be a job requirement of all screen Darcys since (and probably all that will follow) that they look very much like Colin Firth.

Nevertheless, Elliot Cowan is a wonderful Darcy. If I were in Amanda Price's shoes, I'd spend less time worrying about getting the plot right and more time trying to steal Darcy.

The saga continues...

Publicity for the screen release of New Mooon is increasing, and the meta-life of Twilight is turning into as much of a saga as the actual story.

This weekend's The Australian featured a story which discusses what Twilight does to the vampire genre: "This is vampire lite. It dilutes and sanitises the vampire genre," says publisher Alison Urquhart. Journalist Emma Tom agrees, calling Twilight "the greatest vampire killer of them all."

I find it ironic that while Twilight fans are busy praising the chaste series for its depiction of a teen relationship in which sex is not essential, and while vampire lovers are criticising it for its misrepresentation of vampires, scores of readers are rushing into bookstores crying, "Give me more vampire books!"

Thus, within the space of a year the vampire genre has gone from catering to a niche market to providing for the 'mainstream', and Twilight readers have moved on to the 'real' blood-lusting, sex-driven vampire novels, anyway.