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I liked Watchmen. As a comic book-fan unacquainted with the original comic book series, it was really interesting to see the deconstruction of the superhero.
Equally interesting were the audience of pale-skinned, glasses-wearing males in the theater. Scattered in-between were the female counterparts. But in the theatre, my sister (whom I dragged to the premiere) and I were the only two females visible to us that were escort-less.
The group of three men behind us, were loud during the opening commercials. There was one ad featuring Danica Patrick, the NASCAR driver. Danica Patrick is also lucky enough to be in a future post regarding GoDaddy girls and neanderthals.
The one on seated on the end, his blue-jeaned legs spread with bony knees protruding through the top, hid behind a giant trough of popcorn.
“Damn!” he said, during one of her monologues describing her near-fatal crash.
“How does a chick that hot get into nascar?”
His friend must be a fan, or at least a casual biographer.
“Her daddy’s a driver.”
He went on to ask a new question a few minutes later.
“Is it gay to play the violin?”
The sage was unsure.
“Will you play it all the time?”
“Well there are these lessons. They’re $120 an hour. But then you have to rent the violin for forty, so it ends up being about 180 dollars.”
“Yah, that’s kind of gay.”
“Oh, I thought it could just be something I did on the side.”
“But that’s three dollars a minute. And it’s not the guitar or the drums.”
The third friend concurred.
Dr. Manhattan from the comic book series
Then only a few minutes into the 2 hour and 46 minute narrative, the first giant blue penis showed up.
Their reaction: “OH, DAMN! That thing is huge!”
It’s always been quixotic to me, the way the muscular masculine ideal has been idealized, and yet was only somewhat recently considered by the mainstream as homoerotic. I’m thinking specifically of Hancock, the scene where he points out the numerous “homos” of outfit-wearing comic book stars.
There’s a tenuous balance between being masculine and awesome, and a bit too flamboyantly masculine. Why would it not be all right to play a certain instrument, but it’s okay to pay to watch an only somewhat-clad giant vaporize Vietnamese soldiers?
On the female nudity front, there was surprisingly little. Of course, it’s almost necessary to have a sex in a movie like the Watchmen, and it was during that scene. It didn’t feel gratuitous, though in the context of sex during a fanboy flick how could it not, so I give it a thumbs up on being — if only fractionally — progressive.
