Tag: duology

Dr. Manhattan faces Rorschach in a snowy standoff outside Veidt’s complex

Watchmen Chapter II

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

You don’t understand. You all think I’m trapped in here with you, but you’re all trapped in here with me.

Rorschach vs Dr. Manhattan. Who wins?

This marks my fourth experience with this story. My first full grasp of the real villain, tho.

I’m 19 when Zack Snyder’s Watchmen (2009) hits theaters. My dad is 53. We go together.

Experience #1) Watchmen: The Theatrical Cut (2009) [162 minutes]

Neither of us knows there’s a graphic novel. I’m just excited for R-rated superheroes. We don’t know what to expect.

He drives, buys our tickets and stays awake the whole runtime. Noteworthy.

We don’t discuss much afterward. It shook us. Neither can say we loved it. Dad doesn’t dislike it – he just can’t explain what there is to like.

I can’t say I enjoy it either.

I don’t understand why it’s so dark, or why nothing feels satisfying. Who has powers? How do we intuit such details as the story unfolds?

Years later, I read the graphic novel.

Experience #2: Watchmen (Moore & Gibbons 1986) [414 pages]

A 10-star book. Still sad, but less bleak. Beams of sunshine peek through. It’s an intricate character study which raises philosophical questions and challenges moral ambiguity.

Provides a unique meditation on the topic of sexual violence. How memory transforms thru time. Events reframe across retellings.

Only one character actually has a “super power.”

Soon after reading, I rewatch Snyder’s version with a friend.

Experience #3: Watchmen: The Director’s Cut (2009) [186 minutes]

Suddenly, the inspired magnificence illuminates.

The truth: Watchmen is rich and powerful, demands revisiting.

Don’t expect love on first watch, especially without context. The story is tragic, philosophically heavy. The world has concrete rules, but not obvious parameters. Dr. Manhattan informs Laurie of something she’ll soon admit – and then appears surprised when she does. How’s that work?

I still wonder. That alone justifies this animated duology. Watchmen’s material warrants a full return.

A key difference between the graphic novel and Snyder’s film lies in the ending, a change that irks purists.

But Snyder’s entitled to artistic license. His film is nothing if not reverent. Much of Watchmen (2009) recreates the source material frame-by-frame, panel-by-panel. Capturing the stillness of the graphic novel with uncanny precision. Each cinematic composition is a living comic panel, frozen in tone, mood and arrangement. It’s a historic achievement in adaptation.

Most fan criticism stems from Snyder’s refusal to depict the novel’s original conclusion.

The animated version does. We see the squid. Watch it land.

Experience #4) Watchmen Chapters I & II (2024) [84 & 89 mins]

The animated two parter can be considered a product of its live action predecessor; a further grounding of the narrative in realism. Brute savagery and elaborate fight choreography are de-emphasized for the sake of more intimate character interactions.

A more tender form of the story is revealed. Favoring relationship fodder like the mutual respect between Dan & Rorschach. Less intrigue, perhaps, than the graphic novel. But a much clearer telling is the result.

A Dr. Manhattan one can more easily sympathize with. His personal agenda, use of subterfuge and potentially sinister intents are distanced from the spotlight. This Jon’s more dutiful puppet.

Nite Owl & Silk Spectre II

Between halves, the narrative focus shifts – from Blake and Osterman to Dreiberg and Juspeczyk. Here, richer traces of redemption emerge.

They form the emotional core of Chapter II. The film even inverts their relationship: it’s Nite Owl who is found bare-butt, musing. He’s the one who struggles in bed.

Another inversion of traditional gender roles: Laurie’s apathy toward the escalating situation – her avoidance – suggests a certain cowardly carelessness. Dan, on the other hand, can’t run or hide.

His intuition tells him they’re nearing a point of no return. His body won’t cooperate with basic self-interest. Unlike Jon, Dan’s identity is rooted in being an individual within a collaborative community.

Midair Intercourse

Only after rescuing civilians from a burning building do Dan and Laurie consummate their connection – hovering in Archie, Nite Owl’s airship. Remote. Removed. Secluded from all else. An impossible act to witness.

Sometime after, Dr. Manhattan phases back to Earth mid-flight, entering Archie directly from Mars. That would require near-omniscience – yet he’s clearly unaware of Laurie’s current location, thoughts or behavior. He isn’t monitoring her. Jon only sees what he wants to. He burrows into quantum abstraction to avoid the harsher duty of self-governance.

Laurie, meanwhile, is searching for the missing piece to her jigsaw memory. She’s never been the most sympathetic character – nobody feels bad for Superman’s girlfriend – but here, her pathos becomes clear. She makes the courageous decision to speak to Jon on Mars. Her intentions are noble, unromantic.

She frames it as a mission for the people of Earth. That’s how she puts it to Dan – just before seemingly abandoning him. But she’s also attempting to take agency of the situation. Instead of being forced or commanded to go to Mars, she chooses to go.

I do wonder how events progress differently if she insists Jon speak with her on respectful terms. At a pre-arranged time & place (on Earth) the following day.

Patrick Wilson

A modern treasure. His impact on the animated Dan is tangible. One moment – just a single word, “No” – echoes his original performance. It hits with the same emotion and beauty.

An ironic mirror of Jon’s single-word protest, “Don’t,” from Chapter I. Do not instead of No. A command, not a lament.

Adrian Veidt

Few panels from the graphic novel depict him with any level of insecurity.

Chapter II contains his most human depiction. Maybe the most effective execution of Veidt yet. I finally understand the origin of his arctic fortress. His lynx. The squid.

Adrian’s finest moment is a final exchange with Jon.

He asks a question.

Without answering, Jon turns away and phases off planet.

That silence – that is the only moment Jon behaves virtuously.

Unintended Evil

In Chapter I, we watch Jon’s disaffection, his inertia, his refusal to act unless moved by another hand. He speaks his objections only after it’s far too late. Vietnam is just a smaller-scale version of Earth’s fate.

Jon is, in fact – unintentionally – the greatest villain in Watchmen. He is discord. Unfeeling and detached. Never acting, only reacting. In only the manner he sees fit.

The animated version brings that most clearly to the forefront. Tho it sands away a more sinister edge, his lack of empirical wisdom is laid bare.

Rorschach, by contrast, represents order. Reason and decency. Even when he quarrels with Dan, he is the first to apologize for speaking in a manner offensive to a friend.

He is the most morally committed. Dan and Rorschach represent two forms of virtue – human compassion versus brutal clarity. Theirs is the slightest of divergences. Antagonism at its pettiest.

When events become so twisted our most heroic heroes fall to superficial squabbling; it is Rorschach who rises above.

If nothing else, Watchmen Chapters I & II illuminate this arc quite clearly. While delivering a simpler, more practical edition of the narrative. For the first time, Rorschach’s quiet victory shines out from the story’s core.

★★★★★ ★★★★★

TLDR? Check IMDb or Letterboxd for briefer thoughts.

Dr. Manhattan stands under studio lights, glowing blue in a black suit from Watchmen Chapter I review (2024)

Watchmen: Chapter I

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

As artistic as comic book fiction gets.

Needless Delineation?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The Hobbit.
Sometimes proven IP gets split into multiple films. Not to preserve the material – but to double profits. That’s the studio’s prerogative. Our job is to judge the result.

Splitting The Deathly Hallows wasn’t immoral – both parts worked. Everybody won.
But The Hobbit trilogy? Despicable.

This dynamic doesn’t apply to the animated Watchmen duology.

The Comedian

What’s the joke, exactly?

This version explores the philosophical meanderings of Edward Blake—the Comedian. He’s central in every adaptation, but here, Chapter I sparks a desire to catalogue his contradictions.
And what’s most upsetting? The Comedian never actually tells a joke. Fans already know this – but the animated version emphasizes it. There’s no levity in Blake’s life. None.

A glimpse of warmth flickers when he chats with Laurie – only for a violent interruption to turn it grotesque. His good intentions are thrown back at him with cruel intensity.
He is both pitiful and pitiable. His virtue ambiguous. His chaos deliberate. Yet he fights for the righteous cause his whole life.

Meeting the riot with an extreme but effective form of riot suppression. There is dignity in his quickness to act in a practical manner. While others are shocked into moral obscurity, Blake dives into re-establishing order.
So – do we consider him noble? Or monstrous?

Just finished Chapter I and found myself completely engaged – ready to fire up Chapter II.

Can fans of the graphic novel or the live-action film really keep avoiding this version?
Has DC altered the narrative enough to justify a third artistic portrayal?

The answer, between films: yes.

It mostly sticks to what’s known – major beats and themes return. The Comedian’s final fight is less detailed than in other tellings. Crucial details, casually sloughed off. Yet somehow, the narrative still works.

The Black Freighter

The audience still gets a fair dose of The Black Freighter – the dread-fueled comic-within-a-comic. I actually liked it more this time. Usually, I consider it Watchmen’s weakest element.
It’s fantasy so bleak no real person would ever want to read it. The Old Man and the Sea – but with ghosts and corpses. No majestic tuna in that ocean.

Small differences stand out. The floating elephant platform, Gunga Diner – does it house a familiar character? Or is it just stylistic filler?

Veidt’s handling of the assassination attempt is also presented differently. In the comic, the sequence carries an unsettling ambiguity – an extra layer of chaos tied to positioning and reaction. The animated version streamlines the moment. The result is a cleaner, arguably more grounded portrayal. The tension remains, but it’s stripped of interpretive baggage.

Which is better? Probably the original. But can’t we just enjoy both? It’s a subtle maneuvering, yet it somehow improves the experience for fans and newcomers alike.

This version brings Blake’s existential crisis to the center. The viewer becomes hyper-aware of his internal torment. But what does it all add up to?

Dr. Manhattan

A.K.A Jon Osterman. Why won’t Jon stop Ed in Vietnam? Wrong question.
Manhattan witnesses the buildup – watches the woman confront Blake, slash his face and escalate toward tragedy. But he stays silent. He ignores every moment where deescalation remains possible. Then, finally, he mutters a weak: “Don’t.” That’s not effort.

This speaks volumes. Manhattan will wield his godhood to serve government aims, but when faced with small-scale human violence – even against someone he may call a friend – he disengages. His refusal to act isn’t apathy. It’s detachment. He no longer believes it’s his place to intervene. His words replace his will.

Jon Osterman – Dr. Manhattan – is both the most pitiful and most pitiable character in Watchmen. He could intervene. He could change everything. But he’s surrendered that part of himself. What’s left is a man who speaks without acting, who observes without judgment. A ghost in god’s clothing.

Why won’t Jon protect Ed in Vietnam? Right question.

Naturally, Chapter I ends on Mars. But then comes the weakest moment in the film – a two-minute tease of Chapter II. Entirely unnecessary. Spoils too much. Skip if you can.

Because Watchmen Chapter I is already teetering on the edge of greatness.
Here’s hoping Chapter II dares to depart even further.

★★★ ★★★ ★★★

Far briefer analyses here on IMDb and Letterboxd.

Read Justice League x RWBY for a DC animation two-parter which does NOT work.

Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum at a spring break party in 22 Jump Street (2014)

22 Jump Street

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

In the cinematic vernacular, there isn’t a term for a complete narrative comprised of two parts.

The best online suggestions include duology (my personal favorite), diptych and dyad.

An official word is necessary for the purposes of film discussion. There are a lot of Terminator spinoffs but the first two movies (directed by James Cameron) can be referenced as one entity.

The initial pair of Back to the Futures and Godfathers can also be discussed as duologies.

To provide a different and confounding example, Ace Ventura is one of the funniest comedies of all time. One couldn’t possibly differentiate between Pet Detective and When Nature Calls because they’re equally hilarious. But the plot threads of the two yarns don’t interweave into one gilded narrative lanyard.

My long-winded point is: When we give ‘duology’ the communal stamp of approval, let’s nail down the difference between a ‘series’ (the Ace Ventura’s) and a ‘collection’ (the Godfather‘s).

In the history of the laugh genre, the top three follow-ups are Rush Hour 2, Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me and Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls.

But 22 Jump Street is the best comedic sequel of all time.

And it’s all about balance. No fooling. Yin, yang – all that.

Out of three big summer comedies, this buys the pie. (‘Takes the cake’ implies self-indulgent thievery.)

Since The Hangover franchise pumped out dastardly sequels, a fatigue has developed amongst the American audience. Most moviegoers (including yours truly) can’t tolerate recycled narratives.

This movie does a twisted inversion of exactly that. So the self-referential jokes are palpable.

Two sets of twins make appearances and that just begins the list of ‘2’ jokes.

There’s quite a bit to admire here. The trailer doesn’t spoil any of the actual plot. Sure, Jonah Hill gets a mouthful of squid-ink but it occurs early on.

Neighbors releases earlier this summer, and several hearty laughs (specifically ‘the airbag scene’) are spoiled because of the trailer. A Million Ways to Die in the West spoils most of the quality jokes via previews.

Other filmmakers can learn something from the marketing department’s careful use of footage.

Call-backs are a basic comedic staple. So thorough is 22’s self-awareness that cutaways, bits of scenery, metaphorical discussions of production difficulties and the early credits sequence are dedicated to calling-back.

A quick digression regarding the credits sequence. It’s a montage combining original scenes, animation, cover art and comments on the state of brand endorsement and merchandising. It’s both a critical jab at the film industry and a salute to modern cinema. There are multiple cameos from actors like Seth Rogen, who never appear in the movie until this lengthy sequence.

This is where the filmmakers go ‘above and beyond.’ Any form of credits sequence is a gift to the viewer, and although they’re becoming more prevalent, there’s a reason most movies lack an Easter Egg: Unnecessary work. Oftentimes they’re merely add-ons and don’t contribute much to the overall experience.

But this one’s different. In a way, it signifies the filmmakers’ understanding of the industry. And it puts a satisfying cap on the comedic series.

It calls attention to all future forms of potential revenue through Jump Street spin-offs, thereby implying an end to the franchise.

It’s probably best the collection remain a fantastic duology.

Each time the plot encounters a cinematic cliché; it’s referenced by the characters mid-scene and oftentimes recapitulated through call-backs. For instance Nick Offerman returns as Deputy Chief Hardy and lectures the protagonists about repeating narratives.

Schmidt and Jenko ingest Rice Krispy treats lined with ‘Wyfy,’ the newest intoxicant amongst college students.

The use of split screen in this movie is amazing, and the side-by-side depiction of a ‘good trip’ versus a ‘bad trip’ is right on the money, and hilarious.

A similar scene takes place in A Million Ways to Die in the West, but is far inferior.

The creative editing alone is worthy of applause.

A couple notes on the acting.

Ice Cube’s rock-solid. He plays Captain Dickson and delivers a hilarious performance as a supporting player.

Jonah Hill is a talented individual. He’s credited as a contributor to the writing, stars as Schmidt and is a driving force behind the film’s production. Hill appears earlier this year in The Lego Movie as the voice of Lego Green Lantern.

22 Jump Street comes from the guys who made The Lego Movie. So it’s no surprise that Lego Superman, voiced by Channing Tatum, banters with Green Lantern.

This choice along with the credits sequence (and the reveal from The Lego Movie) exemplifies sharp writing. These creative ideas are wildly admirable. We can use more compassionate filmmaking like this.

Tatum co-leads alongside Hill as Jenko, the more physically capable of the duo. That Channing fellow is one of our finest movie stars working today. In the past year he cameos in Don Jon and This is the End, and plays a leading role in Side Effects. He campaigns for the role of Gambit in the X-Men franchise, and eventually lands it.

Now he’s Gambit in the next feature, and starring in his own film. I can’t wait for both.

There’s action, hilarious car chase antics and plenty of satire to go around.

22 Jump Street proves to be more than just a satisfying sequel.

The only question remains:

Will D&D2 be better?

★★★★★ ★★★★★

Briefer thoughts on IMDb & Letterboxd.