After what feels like a lifetime of hype, discourse, and snark, Watchmen has finally debuted on HBO with the pilot episode, “It’s Summer, and We’re Running Out of Ice.” A quick note about how I’ll be reviewing the series: because I’m also doing a podcast with Zach about each episode, I’m going to try to not repeat too much of what I say on the podcast, and go a bit deeper into a few sections. But, of course, there will be some overlap, especially as the time between recording and writing widens. Oh, and lots and lots of spoilers to follow.
1. Cold (Blooded) Open
While “Watchmen” originally dealt with a lot of social issues at the time, Watchmen is a far more political show than I expected. The show is very much about race, and it tells the audience that from the very beginning. The show opens with a flashback to the Tulsa Massacre of 1921, and the scene is incredibly tough to watch from a variety of angles.
The sequence begins with a young boy watching a serial of Bass Reeves, the Black Marshall of Oklahoma who, upon first glance, I thought was the Minutemen hero Hooded Justice. When the riot/massacre begins in earnest, director Nicole Kassell pulls no punches. The scene is impossibly violent and harrowing, and doesn’t let up at all. The boy at the heart of the first scene who, spoiler alert, we encounter later in the episode, essentially gets the Superman and/or Moses origin story, sent off for his own good. Though, unlike either, his escape doesn’t lead to a land of milk and honey (or Milk and Hanoi, like Angela’s bakery).
This also is very reminiscent of the 2nd and 3rd season premieres of The Leftovers, where seemingly unconnected stories, at least in plot, if not in tone, open the seasons.
2. Cal and Angela
There are a lot of interesting relationships on this show, but to me, the most rewarding is Cal and Angela. Angela is a fucking badass, and Cal doesn’t seem threatened or bothered by that. His calm is disarming at first, because who would be that cool if someone handed you a gun and was told how/when to use it? But his trust of Angela isn’t ever questioned, which is a really nice decision on the part of writer Damon Lindelof. He just presents them as a team, and never looks back.
3. World building
This episode is impressively deceptive about how much information it is dumping on you at any time. No one really gives a “catching you up” scene, though a lot of information is dumped on the viewers, especially when Angela is giving her presentation at Topher’s school. But a combination of background images and clever writing lets the show get a lot of information out quickly, even if it isn’t necessarily super important in the moment. Dropping language like “Redfordations,” aka reparations President Robert Redford instituted, gives the viewer an instant ‘in’ into the culture without taking them on a long, circuitous conversation. Lindelof is really good at doling information out over time, and this episode gives you just enough.
It also brings a fair amount of the comic onto the screen, whether it is video of Dr. Manhattan building sandcastles on Mars, or an Archimedes-like flying ship used by the police. The world is given just enough hints of the classic “Watchmen” world to feel connected, but it isn’t beating you over the head with stuff all the time. Again, the show gives you just enough to recognize that, yes, this is the same world, but not enough to make you roll your eyes.
4. Checking in at the castle, part 1: a horseshoe?
The fourth thought each week is going to be checking on on Adrian Veidt, in his castle residence. This is the most surreal aspect of the show, and also the one where we aren’t given the benefit of context. In this episode, we see that Veidt is riding around on a horse, writing a play, and having “For he’s a jolly good fellow!” sung to him on his ‘anniversary.’ The anniversary of the squid attack? The anniversary of his arrival to the castle? Did Veidt eventually marry, and this is his wedding anniversary?
Continued belowRegardless, the cake he is given on his anniversary is vaguely squid-like, and he is handed not a knife by Mr. Phillips, but rather a horseshoe to cut the cake with. It’s such an odd moment, and one that is sort of dismissed without too much fanfare. At the end of the scene, we hear the name of the play he’s writing: The Watchmaker’s Son. This is an obvious reference to Jon Ostermann, aka Dr. Manhattan. For the character in the comic who wanted to move the world forward, it is interesting that Veidt is the one character really looking backwards so far.
5. Rogers and Hammerstein should’ve given it away
Back in March of 1999, I played bass guitar in the pit band for the Cresskill High School Principle Players’ production of Oklahoma! I should have recognized that the title of this episode comes from “Poor Jud is Daid,” a song that is sung by Curly (the protagonist that Chief Judd Crawford portrayed in his high school production) to try to get Jud, his romantic rival, to hang himself. Yeah, it’s fuckin’ bleak.
But Judd is one of the most important characters of this episode, and he’s gone at the end of it. This is very similar to LOST, Lindelof’s most famous series, and how they killed off the pilot of the plane in the pilot episode, and was also found in a tree. His death is absolutely mysterious, even though it appears clear what happened: the old man in the wheelchair appears to have hung him. He does ask earlier in the episode, “do you think I can lift 200 lbs?” The answer appears to be yes.
Since this show is so mysterious, each week I’m going to ask three big questions to wrap up each review.
1. If Veidt planned/faked the squid attack, why is it still raining squids? Is this the government trying to continue the lie? Did Veidt set up a random timer for this, to keep the lie alive? Did Veidt fuck something up, and actually open an inter-dimensional rift?
2. Is Looking Glass on the up and up? On one hand, he’s a cop trying to suss out the 7th Kavalry, but on the other, he is so Rorschach-esque that it’s hard to see him as anything but an agent of chaos at times.
3. Will we get an explanation for the connection between the 7th Kavalry and Rorschach? Obviously, people often take the wrong lessons from the people they supposedly admire and, as Lindelof said in the press junket, Walter Kovacs would likely be horrified with what he would be seeing done in his visage. Will there ever be a stronger connection made between the two mask wearers?
