Watchmen is one of those movies that is so thoroughly slimed with promos and recycled opinions by the time it opens, you’re already sick of it. The film industry term for this is “a saturation release,” meaning a liquid shitstorm of hype covering every surface, oozing into every crevice of the known world. We’ve endured months of this carpet-bombing: all-media ads, star interviews, fan burblings, critical frettings over nudity, sex, violence, nihilism, and Alan Moore rumbling from his bunker in England, disavowing all future film adaptations of his work and predicting that this one will suck.
So when you finally see Watchmen, if your overall reaction is, “Meh,” you don’t know whether the movie itself is to blame for the tepid reaction, or whether the tepid reaction means it must’ve been pretty good because at least you weren’t actively retching throughout. Maybe see it again in a month or so, when they’ve hosed off the sidewalks and the yammering’s died down?
Provided you have another two hours and forty-two minutes to spare in a month or so. That’s the film’s insane running time.
Maybe stick with “meh.”
March 9th, 2009 | Comments (27)
