It's only fitting that a new adaptation, itself a divisive concept among comic book fans, should be undertaken by Damon Lindelof, arguably the most divisive man working in television today. The creator of Lost, The Leftovers, and the recently shelved has never played it safe, and HBO's new Watchmen series is his biggest risk yet.
The original graphic novel, released as a limited-run comic series between 1986 and 1987, remains one of the most beloved and famous works in the medium. Its writer, Alan Moore, staunchly refuses to even acknowledge any adaptations of his work, demanding his name be removed from that V for Vendetta movie, Zack Snyder's own attempt at Watchmen in 2009, and now, obviously, this. Lindelof admitted to appropriating the source material against its creator's wishes in an open letter to fans last year. But it's this self-awareness that seeps into the new show's themes and makes Watchmen one of the most compelling new superhero adaptations since Moore put pen to paper.
The story, which moves to 2019-the events of Watchmen in 1985 are, here, all canon and part of the show's history-also moves to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where the police wear yellow masks to protect their identities after a widespread attack on law enforcement several years ago. Police firearm use is regulated, cell phones and the Internet are outright banned, and holograms are real. Sounds great, honestly, until members of the white nationalist group the Seventh Cavalry, who wear masks inspired by Rorschach-a popular character in the comic-start putting a major plan into motion.
To say more would be to ruin the brilliant structure this Watchmen takes up. The first hour plays almost like a police procedural, with Angela Abar (Regina King, flawless, obviously) taking on the mantle of our new main character. She's part of the Tulsa Police Force as Sister Night (yeah, some of them get to wear bespoke costumes), alongside Looking Glass (Tim Blake Nelson in a reflective silver mask), Red Scare (an overweight pragmatist with a Soviet accent) and Pirate Jenny (cool outfit; doesn't get to do much).
Abar is a perfect new face for the series. King grounds her with real vulnerability when she's dragged into a larger conspiracy than she ever thought possible, alongside scenes in which she casually squeegees off a bunch of tiny squids, which fell from the sky, from her windshield.
Right. Squids. About that.
New viewers will likely require at least some CliffsNotes on what came before, since all of the Watchmen graphic novel is, as noted, canon and history. A history in which an interdimensional squid monster suddenly appeared in New York and released a psychic blast, killing millions. A history in which Robert Redford has been president since 1992 (Nixon having previously repealed term limits). A history in which masked vigilantes have been operating outside of the law for nearly a century. But first, a real history lesson. Watchmen's first scene shows us its version of the very real Tulsa Race Riot of 1921, a shameful piece of America's past that informs most of what comes later in this brilliant, agonizing story.
As Watchmen delves deeper into its own history, it becomes something special. The show we were watching at first becomes just a patch on a giant tapestry that recontextualizes moments from the comic and far, far earlier. One particular character's story, which has been told since Watchmen's earliest days, gets an entire black-and-white episodic treatment, and not only puts the new series in a new perspective, but speaks to the major themes of the stories we tell, retell, and tell again, and how violence, anger, and pain can be sanitized as heroism if you omit enough of the story.
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