Thomas P.M. Barnett :: Weblog

The ultimate cut of The Watchmen came out recently and we got it. Other than Star Trek, it's the only other movie that really caught my attention so far this year. I saw it twice in IMAX and then once on DVD when it came out a while ago.

I think I have seen Star Trek almost ten times already.

This ultimate cut version includes the "Black Freighter" comic within the comic as animated segments interspersed throughout the movie roughly as they were interspersed throughout the original 12 comics (later combined to make a graphic novel). It adds something, but not a whole lot to the movie, which I love more each time I watch it.

Then I find the additional bonus discs within this version (I already have the digital copy on my iPod) and come across the simply animated video version of the book, which replicates the original artwork, plus presents all the balloon text. It's read by a single narrator who does all the voices. The motion is minimal, meant to replicate the movement of your eyes over the original comic book pages. Each chapter is done up as a half-hour program, beautifully rendered. The total series runs six hours. It makes you realize what a straightforward adaptation the film was, and yet how some significant changes pop up here and there.

Watching the novel in this form is truly fascinating, especially Chapter IV: The Watchmaker. Amazingly, the crudely animated version of the original text is actually more mesmerizing than the truly poetic film version--especially in conveying Dr. Manhattan's experiencing of all time simultaneously.

So I finally get around to "reading" the original comix--or actually have them read to me (although I find I read all the balloons, just like I was reading the comic; it's just that I can actually hear the voice in my head--outside my head).

I can now see why the original comix excited people so much, and why filmmakers were drawn to the challenge. I appreciate the effort behind the film version all the more.

It's 12:12. In 56 minutes I will fall asleep. Six hours ago I put up the Christmas tree with Vonne Mei. I post this blog.

Vonne tells me tonight that my face has been subtly altered by my recent surgery. It's thinner and smoother than it has been in years, she says, making me look a lot more like I did when she met me. I am skeptical and yet cannot discount her perceptions. I think my face became increasingly subject to deep and pervasive inflammation over the past several years. I see pictures of myself from the past few months where I am shocked at how bloated my face had become and I can see what she's saying about its appearance now. It's as if reassembling myself was the first trick I learned after the surgery.

I tell Vonne I will love her always.

It's June 1982 and Vonne and I approach each other on our ten-speed bikes behind Witte Hall at the University of Wisconsin. It's 2pm on a Sunday afternoon and for the last time in my life, I experience loneliness. We circle each other in anticipation. We're meeting at this pre-arranged time to go see a movie. It will be our first date--Bladerunner.

It's late March 2004 and I'm typing one of my first blog posts after midnight from my father's hospital room in Madison WI. He will die days later. On 1 April I deliver his eulogy. Three weeks into the future I am describing him to Brian Lamb in a TV studio. The next day "The Pentagon's New Map" is published.

It's May 2026 and I'm watching my sixth child graduate from high school.

Twenty-seven years, five months, and seven days after dating Vonne for the first time, my face now suddenly resembles what it looked like in 1982--at least to her.

I tell Vonne I will love her always.

The photograph falls to the sand at my feet . . ..