Superheros as Nazis? Also in this issue: Laurie and Bechdel

Reading Watchmen is a difficult experience for me.  On the one hand, I am relatively unmoved by the supposedly groundbreaking plot, thematic, and character moves – superheros without astonishing powers (whether supernatural or supertraining), an alternate history in which the prominent actions of masked adventurers  radically shapes how it differs from our own, the moral ambiguity of vigilanteism, superheros with seriously deranged psyches – all of this is old hat to those who grew up reading Bruce Wayne: Murderer, Marvel’s Civil War crossover event, or even J. Michael Straczynski’s run on Amazing Spider-Man.
On the other hand, despite my unshaken belief that Alan Moore is pretentious (claiming and attempting grander achievements in his work than I can actually discern), his writing and Dave Gibbons’ art are both extremely high-quality.  There is an believability to his dialogue and depth to the ideas he choses to explore which are worth considering.  Furthermore, Gibbons’ art, while certainly of its period, lasts very well compared to comparable superhero art of the 80s (and, I would argue, Miller’s style, though that’s much more subjective and they clearly had different ends).
One of the things which is brought out in Watchmen, and in most subsequent critiques of the superhero genre, is that the whole idea is fascist.  Whether it’s a rather farcical attempt to connect Nietzsche’s Ubermensch with Superman or a serious attempt at pinpointing uneasiness with the idea in general, the accusation is often taken for granted that “fascist” is an acceptable assumption (for example, the last paragraph of this review of The Dark Knight: http://wrongquestions.blogspot.com/2008/07/dark-knight.html)
According to the Oxford dictionaries, “fascism” is “an authoritarian and nationalistic right-wing system of government and social organization; extreme right-wing, authoritarian, or intolerant views or practices.”  While Rorschach certainly fits the labels of “right-wing” (though not on a party line, as his hatred of Nixon shows), and “intolerant,” he is very much against the ideas of “authoritarian” or “government organization.”  I think too many critics of the superhero idea fixate on the ideological absolutism of the heros – their conviction that their opponents are wrong and they (the heros) are right, and that they have the right/duty to deal out punishment to those who disagree with them.  However, the anti-social nature of their activities – the individualistic, shunning public recognition of their true identities seem to indicate a collapse in the analogy between fascists (or Nazis, as Watchmen repeatedly draws) and the masked adventurers.
Furthermore, Moore’s own expectations that we will be horrified, if not by the motivations, at least by the actions of Dr. Manhattan, Ozymandias, and Rorschach require one to have a certain amount of moral absolutism in itself.  Otherwise, why not accept, as Dan and Laurie do, that the only thing to do is keep living for yourself and those close to you?
Lastly, the connection of vigilanteism with the historical abuses of fascism seem like the logical fallacy of “poisoning the well.”  While certainly there is some merit to the denotative application of the term “fascism” to the attitude behind vigilante actions, I think there’s also a connotational baggage which is often intended to silence questions of the term’s use.
Laurie and Bechdel
The comic artist Alison Bechdel, who we’ll be reading later this semester, popularized a famous standard or rule for movies:
A) it includes at least two women, who B)  have at least one conversation about C)  something other than a man or men.
(found here: http://alisonbechdel.blogspot.com/2005/08/rule.html)
While Moore’s work in Watchmen might qualify due to Laurie and Sally’s conversation, his two women still tend to act as merely secondary characters for the male characters – propping up, comforting, or reacting to the male character’s actions.  Rarely do either of them act purely out of their own desires and future plans.  I believe that this passivity is what keeps me from fully engaging with Laurie as a character, despite my enjoyment of the idea and the character who she was reportedly based on, Dinah Laurel Lance, the Black Canary (most appeallingly written by Gail Simone in Birds of Prey).

5 thoughts on “Superheros as Nazis? Also in this issue: Laurie and Bechdel”

  1. The Juspeczyk women’s passivity is certainly repugnant. But, didn’t you think Sally Jupiter was trying to engage Laurie (absent) sense of duty and adventure, driving her up to the Crimebuster’s meetings and waiting outside for her? If the daughter had the dynamic personality for a superhero, her genes would have made her a purebred.

    1. I’m not convinced – it seemed to me Sally’s motives were not inspiring, but vicariously living through her daughter, who doesn’t have to quit to have a daughter of her own. Rather like high school or college football stars who become overly involved in their son or daughter’s sports, to relive their glory days.

  2. Yes, it could be a selfish motive on Sally’s part, or she could be pushing nepotism. She knows Laurie has the talent and instinct for hard work, rather than for play, which Sally herself did not always portray. Do you think Chelsea Clinton will run for office eventually?

  3. Thanks for bringing up the Bechdel Test—it’ll be fun to try to apply that to all of our readings throughout the semester.

    In response to your hesitation over “the supposedly groundbreaking plot, thematic, and character moves,” I think now is a good time to bring up Rabinowitz’s idea of “authorial audience,” which we discussed several weeks ago. You (and most of the rest of the class as well) are decidedly not the audience Moore envisioned nearly twenty-five years ago. So it’s not surprising that what was indeed groundbreaking so long ago seems tired now. The trick is to approach the text from two simultaneous perspectives: the fresh eyes a reader might have in 1986, and a more seasoned, cynical approach that comes naturally to comic book readers in 2010.

    1. I guess I just have a hope that truly great works will still have a stronger impact than Watchmen does on me today. But that is a good reminder. Thanks!

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