Untitled

For the purpose of briefly contextualizing my excitement and/or the relevance of the seemingly arbitrary invocation of the term “watcher,” in the Marvel Comics universe, the Watchers are noted as being one of the oldest species in existence. Their sole purpose for being is to observe and cultivate all knowledge across the known multiverse and they have a strict “isolationist” policy meaning they are prohibited from interfering with the events they compile. In short, they are passive archivists, bound by cosmic “law” to not intervene in the affairs of mortals. This policy was implemented after the Watchers made an attempt, in good faith, to bestow the knowledge of the multiverse onto a race of beings called the Prosilicans. However, the knowledge that they were endowed with led to the creation of nuclear weapons with ended in a catastrophic conflict. The Watchers were subsequently blamed for the giving the Proscilicans knowledge they were not yet prepared to handle, and enacted their stringent policy of no intervention.  Despite this though, the recurring Watcher character name Uatu consistently interferes with the superhero adventures of Hulk and the Fantastic Four on several occasions, aiding even in the destruction of their enemies at some points. At one point, Uatu is put on trial, where it is revealed that the Watcher has broken his non-intervention pact hundreds of times throughout the multiverses history. Here, it is also revealed that the Watchers are bound to their policy of non-intervention by a force known as Fulcrum, to which there are consequences for disobeying. Oddly enough, though, the other Watchers have themselves interfered in the events of other civilizations' in the Marvel universe, most notably in the face of apocalypse or world-ending events. Basically, the contingencies on which they can break their own law are determined by them, in specific instances where they deem their intervention necessary to continue being, well, Watchers. I think this is essentially the idea that in order to watch the universe, there needs to first be a universe to watch. Now, here’s Diaz’s first use of the of the term “parigüayo:” “Sophomore year Oscar found himself weighing in at a whopping 245 (260 when he was depressed, which was often) and it had become clear to everybody, especially his family, that he’d become the neighborhood parigüayo.* Had none of the Higher Powers of your typical Dominican male, couldn’t have pulled a girl if his life depended on it. Couldn’t play sports for shit, or dominoes, was beyond uncoordinated, threw a ball like a girl. Had no knack for music or business or dance, no hustle, no rap, no G. And most damning of all: no looks. He wore his semikink hair in a Puerto Rican afro, rocked enormous Section 8 glasses—his “anti-pussy devices,” Al and Miggs, his only friends, called them—sported an unappealing trace of mustache on his upper lip and possessed a pair of close-set eyes that made him look somewhat retarded. The Eyes of Mingus. (A comparison he made himself one day going through his mother’s record collection; she was the only old-school dominicana he knew who had dated a moreno until Oscar’s father put an end to that particular chapter of the All-African World Party.) You have the same eyes as your abuelo, his Nena Inca had told him on one of his visits to the DR, which should have been some comfort—who doesn’t like resembling an ancestor?—except this particular ancestor had ended his days in prison.” (Diaz, 35-6)

And the definition, again by Diaz: 

“The pejorative parigüayo, Watchers agree, is a corruption of the English neologism “party watcher.” The word came into common usage during the First American Occupation of the DR, which ran from 1916 to 1924. (You didn’t know we were occupied twice in the twentieth century? Don’t worry, when you have kids they won’t know the U.S. occupied Iraq either.) During the First Occupation it was reported that members of the American Occupying Forces would often attend Dominican parties but instead of joining in the fun the Outlanders would simply stand at the edge of dances and watch. Which of course must have seemed like the craziest thing in the world. Who goes to a party to watch? Thereafter, the Marines were parigüayos—a word that in contemporary usage describes anybody who stands outside and watches while other people scoop up the girls. The kid who don’t dance, who ain’t got game, who lets people clown him — he’s the parigüayo. If you looked in the Dictionary of Dominican Things, the entry for parigüayo would include a wood carving of Oscar. It is a name that would haunt him for the rest of his life and that would lead him to another Watcher, the one who lamps on the Blue Side of the Moon.” (Diaz 423)

Dr. Manhattan, himself, talks about his transformation as a sort of “death and rebirth,” because he marks this event as the sort of turning point in his life, the moment when his newfound relationship to external and internal sensations, and to life and death drove a wedge between his experiences (consciousness) and his humanity (material manifestation). Jon’s initial fascination with watchmaking is very revealing in terms of who he would ‘become” as Manhattan, of what a person like him would make of himself when endowed with the abilities of a god. 

Throughout Chapter IV, there is a recurring image of a black sheet of velvet which has cogs laid out across its surface, and the image is intercut between other temporally nonlinear story panels. The image is meant to draw a resemblance between the stars (as components of a larger “mechanized” universe) that dot the chapter’s background and the watch’s cogs (as components of a literal machine). Watches often have a peculiarly significant bearing on Manhattan’s fate, as each step that he identifies as having led to him being locked in the intrinsic field generator is connected to his fascination with repairing watches. The aforementioned image of the cogs first appears on the chapter's second page, and follows after a panel of Dr. Manhattan fondly recalling his father, formerly a watchmaker, who "admired the sky for its precision.” 

Manhattan says this while he himself is found gazing up at the stars on the surface of Mars, trying to find a “name [for] the force the put them in motion” (IV, 2). This nameless force is to the stars what Manhattan is in relation to the “cogs” of the watches he fixes; he sets them in motion, and transforms them from atomized “parts” into an interconnected system. The chapter’s title, “Watchmaker” is fittingly juxtaposed with Manhattan pondering what is behind the creation and existence of the universe, almost “answering,” his question; whatever “force” is behind the “setting in motion of the stars,” likely resembles him, as he is the closest thing to a legitimate deity, or god, in the story.

This sequence of combined images of and narration by Dr. Manhattan relates the character to his father, and uncovers the reasons for Manhattan’s fixation on “finer details,” on the way in which individual components interact and bring greatly complex “things” (i.e from the vast universe to finely tuned watches) into existence. To Manhattan, there is no discrepancy between the atomized components of a “thing,” and the “thing” itself which is made up of those components, because that “thing’s” existence is contingent on the interrelationship of it’s components, the relationship is direct, and therefore Manhattan views things in their totality, he sees the “bigger picture” as it were.

The next time this image of the cogs appears is on the following page, when Manhattan recalls the very moment in which his dreams were crushed by his father. A 16 year old Jon Osterman sits, fidgeting with a watch he is projected to fix. However, after hearing of the invention of atomic bomb following it’s “successful” deployment on Hiroshima, Jon’s father insists his son pursue sciences in atomic energy and forgo the family trade of watchmaking. 

His father then dumps the pieces of the watch he was working on over their balcony, the final twist of the knife, so to speak. As the cogs fall, the following panel jumps to 15 minutes into Manhattan’s future on Mars, where he watches as a meteor shower grazes the atmosphere of the red planet. This again draws similarities between the meteorites (shooting stars as they are often misidentified), celestial bodies that interact with one another to form of the whole of the universe, and cogs, which are obviously components of a watch. With what we know of Manhattan’s characterization up to this point in the story, we can see how his particular fascination with the intricate beauty of minutia has lended itself to his development.

At the end of the previous chapter, Manhattan is abruptly confronted with accusations that his atomic structure may be linked to the cancer found in Moloc, Janey Slater, among others who have found themselves “entangled” in Manhattan’s life. Here, after an interrogative bombardment on the part of the press, Manhattan is faced with a unique of vulnerability; he is overwhelmed, and for once he doesn't have an immediate, off-hand solution. Nothing that he can “materialize” out of thin air will be of any use to his current predicament. His omnipotence is made useless, and he breaks down because of his lack of foresight and readiness. More interesting, though, and more telling of his exact character, is his response.

After his meltdown he first undresses from his suit, which was more or less a "human costume" for the sake of his on-air appearance. He then teleports to Gila Flats, New Mexico, to revisit where he first met Janey, as the invocation of her name surely put the rest of his life in perspective and had him waxing philosophically about his past. He grabs an old photograph of the two of them before teleporting to Mars, where he reminisces on Janey and their relationship, the first time he was introduced to her, when he touched her hand at the moment she bought him a drink. Notice in his retrospective that he remembers the particular details of the situation that consolidate the image of his memory. This is reflective of how a watchmaker makes their living; looking at the whole of the watch will tell you little in terms to what need’s to be fixed, or what exactly has broken. You must put into perspective the exact mechanisms that allow the watch to function, or in this case which prevents the watch from functioning. 

When he grows tired of looking at the photo, his attention shifts to the stars, where he ponders their existence and remarks that they are merely "old photographs" of what they once were; by the time their light reaches us, they are gone and forgotten about by the void of the universe. Notice how throughout this sequence, while he appears to have a photographic memory that picks up on every detail, he actually has a tendency to focus in on things he personally fines "fascinating," or what he regards as simply beautiful. This is a defining characteristic of Manhattan, I would contest, as it essentially results in his “undoing,” or his detachment from humanity, keeping him distanced from the human experience. 

Manhattan is caught up with and sort of “stuck on” the necessary components of the “things” (i.e., cogs as they relate to watches, the physical beauty of his former and contemporary lovers, old photographs of his personal favorite memories, etc.) constitute his world. In his moments of awestruck wonder and analysis, he often ends up looking at the world around him for so long, that he is only able to see past it. In trying to understand the exact function and nature of larger “things,” he ends up missing the entire “point.” This reveals the flaw of Manhattan’s “godliness,” that cannot merely "be" or exist as an all-powerful, all-seeing, and all-being figure, and it has clearly contributed to his now broken and depressive mindset. It his not despite his “extra-normal” perception and senses that Manhattan is no longer able to find pleasure in his favorite activities, but is, ironically enough, because of these superpowers. His abilities work insofar as they provide him an unparalleled opportunity to get closer to the stars than any human could ever dream of, however this power does not, still, allow for him to fully understand their essential nature or origin or overall place in the universe as a whole; he fails to see past the "bigger picture,” even as a god.

Dr. Manhattan, in the same vein of a traditionalist, Judeo-Christian interpretation of God, has shaped the world (and as a consequence, forged the path of humanity) in his image. His “creations” are reflective of how he, an omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent being, operates in a world composed of crude matter. The radical progress in scientific, political, and social developments that America has made as a result of the arrival of Dr. Manhattan are in many ways aesthetic: new and shiny. They are upgraded models of American lifestyles and traditions: the roasted, four-legged chicken, spotted in the first chapter, the futuristic-looking cars, as well as the airships that dot the background of many of the story's panels, all of these progressive technological steps "forward" contribute to society perhaps feeling comforted, and safe; even Manhattan, especially as a means of preventing the escalation of nuclear war with the Soviet Union, is a sort of pillar of security and protection. 

However, these inventions reflect Manhattan's detachment from the true needs of humanity, which very obviously transcend the likes of material indulgences. In the midst of a Cold War, Manhattan's otherworldly might and power have produced what are essentially bandaids, comparatively speaking. In this way, these benchmarks of progress that have cemented themselves into the alternate history of Moore's Watchmen also mirror Dr. Manhattan's relationships, and his troubles with commitment, intimacy, attachment, and sociability, 

Manhattan's inadequate solutions to the ails of man are similar to his failure to reciprocate intimacy with Laurie Jupiter in the beginning of Chapter III, when he is seen sort of "cloning" himself to tend to Laurie while he is meanwhile duplicitously working on one of his many science experiments in the next room over. In both these instances, Manhattan creates a sort of distraction, one that he is able to imagine from the limited perspective of an at once out of touch and omnipotent being, one that will aesthetically please the American people and/or Laurie, but one that also fails to get to the root of the issues eating away at them. 

With Laurie, Manhattan assumes, two being better than one in his mind, that his partner won't mind his mental absence from them engaging in intimacy. Manhattan's intervention in society in general. as well as his interpersonal relationships with others, have worked merely to cover up the blemishes of the more deeply rooted issues by means of fast and fancy cars, genetically modified chickens, and kinky threesomes with clones. These inventions and gestures function as extensions of and, in many ways, metaphors for Dr. Manhattan’s mode of being; their inadequacy in terms of accurately diagnosing and treating the problems humanity is faced with prove that image of Manhattan as a Nietzschean ubermensch that society at large has come to associate him with is ill-conceived.

Speaking more on Dr. Manhattan as being perceived by the public as the "Superman," the character largely exists as a symbol of the best a man can be, a sort of “upgrade” from the prototypical model of “a man.” This indicates that he still possesses and is affected by the same woes and shortcomings that effect humans. This is reflected in his tendency, even prior to Osterman's transformation into Manhattan, to neglect his significant others and prioritize his scientific endeavors and pet projects over their needs. In this sense, we can determine he may not necessarily meet the qualifications for being a god, but an extraordinary man endowed with the ability of a god, and more importantly, left with the particularly human faculties to wield and process these abilities. Manhattan's "powers" certainly give him extra-human senses, such as his heightened perception of time and his teleportation abilities, but even these powers get in Manhattan's own way, and cause him to lose sight of the what’s important to his life and to humanity as a whole. 

This is evident from the very introduction of the character of Dr. Manhattan in the first chapter, where he is  boasted, before we even have a chance of seeing him, as the "indestructible man" by Rorscach. In his establishing panel, Manhattan is shown towering over Rorschach at the foreground of the image, yet in all his might and intimidation, he is distracted, tinkering with an unnamed piece of equipment in his lab, likely where he's been for quite some time prior to this introduction. This panel juxtaposes Manhattan's persona and image as a "God," with his cold detachment from humanity and subtly demonstrates how his God-like intellect, perception, and senses prevent him from seeing the importance of that which is happening right in front of him. Dr. Manhattan is, even in the immediate aftermath of a suspicious murder, a crisis, more concerned with the events occuring on a microscopic level, or dismantling, assessing, and reconstructing some futuristic piece of technology beyond any other character’s understanding; he won't even stop to heed his old friend's warning. 

It is, in addition, no accident that the story ends with Jon teleporting Rorschach in response to Laurie's complaint that he is "upsetting" her. Manhattan's response to her comparatively minor annoyance is performing the miracle of teleporting Rorschach away, outside the facilities. This moment works to show Manhattan can do whatever he chooses, it shows that he is all powerful insofar as he can relocate people to his choosing, can shape-shift, and telekinetically dismantle machinery, but it's more a matter of what personally concerns him, what seems pressing by his own metrics. It should alarm us that Manhattan doesn't see the difference between a living and a dead body, and that he is yet so depended upon in this alternate American timeline.

Finally, an aspect of Dr. Manhattan’s origin (and character as whole) I find most curious is that in the process of “rebuilding” of himself, he had to have had some understanding of what components would be necessary for him to “come into being” again, but in this process he was somehow “unable” to reconfigure himself as fully human. His origin story reveals him as having always possessed a genius level intellect, however, emotionally he has always been absent and distanced. Even before his omniscience allegedly “soiled” his relationship to the material realm and to life itself, he never had a barometer for complex emotional interactions. During the time leading up to his transformation he was a 30 year-old man who was clearly not prepared to be apart of a serious relationship with Janey. He was still mentally absent from her needs as his significant other. Even in that moment of “intimacy” with Laurie, he is constantly trying and failing to please her. This allows us to imagine what would happen if “God” was there to answer every one of our prayers. It would still, as Watchmen notes, leave us unsatisfied, because there are no real satisfying answers, even for a god.

Of all the things Moore’s Watchmen says about such broad topics as fascism, celebrity, and violence, I have always been most interested in what the graphic novel does not say, or rather, what it indirectly suggests through it’s impeccable characterization and imagery. On the surface, Watchmen, while not shy to less-than-subtle political critique, largely functions as a meta picture of comic books. It tackles the implications of overpowered God’s living among us, and more than anything, reveals that their presence would likely change things for the worst. And while undoubtedly portrayed as God’s by some stretched out meaning of the word, Moore’s cast of “hero’s” are often portrayed as more human than those without masks.  What remains the story’s most impressive accomplishment is also one of the story’s most revealing in term’s of developing the character of Rorschach. I am of course referring to the chapter “Fearful Symmetry,” which is almost exactly, you guessed it, symmetrical, not only in it’s paneling and art, but in it’s themes, characterizations, and dialogue. It is nothing short of brilliant. Now while it isn’t until later on that the whole of Rorscach’s life story is unveiled, this chapter tells us a lot more about the character than one would expect. Most significantly, of course, is that we find out that the alter ego of Rorscach is a recurring “doomer” spotted in the background of countless iconic scenes. It’s this really powerful moment, where we find out that the “terror of the underworld” is a short, unstable loner. It re-contextualizes every scene this man was in, because we know who he becomes when story “isn’t” focused on him as a part of the background. What really draws me to this, besides the intricate details laced throughout the story that subtly point to Rorscach’s identity, is the events that unfold at the end of the comic. Rorscach is set-up to make it look as if he killed Jacobi, AKA, Moloc, a now retired supervillain. Rorscach, up until this point, is pretty impeccable in his investigation. He walks away from crime scenes and violent altercations with little regard for his safety, he isn’t afraid of asking “the big questions,” he is unrelentingly brutal in his techniques of interrogation, and he is putting together the pieces of a massive conspiracy pretty effectively, at least by comparison of his former coworkers, who all suspect Rorscach is behaving as per usual with his paranoia. Rorscach likes to think himself the only one who can spot what’s going on, behind all the corruption and lies of society, but that is his major flaw. His insular philosophical mindset doesn’t reflect the real world, and it often leads to him completely disregarding his allegedly unwavering sense of justice.  The “hero,” of the story, the badass detective who talks in a gravelly voice and sees the world for what it is, he is incredibly unstable and consistently espouses reactionary ideas despite claiming he knows the truth, the only path forward for humanity. This man bent on bringing justice to the world, cannot seem to stand humanity at all, and thinks them as inherently vile creatures. He has “lived in the shadows,” his whole life, and from his own perspective, has been surrounded by the dark side of humanity so much so, that he projects his worldview onto his “objective” image of the world, and humans as a whole. His truth is linked to his desire of getting people to stop behaving “filthily” and it’s pretty clear this is driven by bias and personal experiences, that later get touched on. But it is this sort of twisting of the notion of protagonist that I want to focus on here.  If the term “superhero” is at once linked with the idea of a “God” and “humanity,” in Moore’s world, this last page of the chapter is what tells us that. After feeling like he is getting closer to uncovering the details of the Comedian’s murder, Rorschach walks right into a trap. The second he realizes his misstep, we see his inner monologue shift. He isn’t so certain anymore, and he immediately defaults to insulting his own intellect andcgetting angry at himself not being careful enough. For the duration of the police raid, his image as an unstoppable force is torn to shreds. This is shown with really careful jutaposition. First, Rorschach does, to his credit, hold his own initially. He is more skilled using makeshift weaponry than the majority of heavil-armed police squad sent to place him under arrest. He makes a flamethrower out of a can of hairspray, literally materializing things that were not there before, as a literal God would. He takes down the police one by one, and has the advantage over them as he lurks in the shadows, until he needs to escape. 

After plunging two or three stories to the street in an attempt to escape Jacobi’s apartment building, Rorschach shows his first signs of vulnerability. His image as a “god” is challenged. He refuses to believe that he, the objectivist, the only true form of justice in an unjust world, is in pain. He is so enraged by his failure to spot the set-up, that during a time he should be recovering from his injury, he is retroactively tracing his missteps. His ego is getting in the way, and this is clearly a human issue. God’s are allegedly perfect, but Rorschach, like everyone else, sometimes doesn’t see what’s right in front of him. And unlike a god, Rorshach is not impervious to fall damage. The police are as surprised by his human shortcomings as he is; they too expected the image of Rorshach to live up to his mythos.

The next section of panels shows Rorschach’s iconic mask, which is also key here; when an officer kicks it, the shifting black ink, which always moves in a symmetrical pattern, sort of scatters, and upon this disruption, it no longer looks perfectly symmetrical, which is of course to say, Rorschach is no longer maintaining the image of fear that he is known for, he is broken. And while the focus of my post here is not the “underlying queerness” of  Rorschach’s character (a claim which I think is pretty well substantiated), I cannot help but pay attention to the fact that this raid on Rorschach is essentially a “queer beating.” There is a sense of gratification from the officers beating him, as if they’re getting more out of stopping the masked vigilante than merely putting an end to his career. 

1.) First Roll (one roll with a 4-sided die): 1

Second Roll (one roll with a 25-sided die): 16 

Third Roll (one roll with a 5-sided die): 3 (this will correspond with a passage from "Wilde_Scripts_Maintext.”)

2.) Blank Comic Observations: Tonal Pivot - Without dialogue, the robot’s intentions with his interaction with the dog character feels cynical from the beginning. The robot character gives away his intentions when he leans in to the dog character and you know his night will be ruined.

3.) The title, “From the point of view of feeling, the actor’s craft is the type,” still confuses me, especially with the context of the image. I don’t really know what it means by the craft being the “type.” If it means the type of feeling, then I would say it means acting is an extension of an actors emotions or feelings.

4.) I was unable to add the text to the comic but by transmitting the dialogue through text:

Title:  From the point of view of feeling, the actor’s craft is the type

Panel 1: “Not send it anywhere?

2: My dear fellow, why?

3: Have you any reason? 

4: What odd chaps you painters are! 

5: You do anything in the world to gain a reputation

6: As soon as you have one,

7: you seem to want to throw it away.

8:  It is silly of you,

9: for there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about,

10: and that is not being talked about. 

11: A portrait like this would set you far above all the young men in England, and make the old men quite jealous, if old men are ever capable of any emotion.”