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Alan Moore, author of "Watchmen," reinvented the comic book

By Christopher Borrelli and Robert K. Elder | Tribune reporters

March 7, 2009

Over the past 30 years, author Alan Moore has almost single-handedly reinvented the comic book, transforming its language, broadening its scope and deepening its intellect. So, naturally, Hollywood has been poaching his stories for years, the most egregious being the 2003 loud and dumb adaptation of his otherwise highly literate "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."

There also have been films based on his works, such as "Constantine," "From Hell" and a glossy but tonally faithful version of "V for Vendetta"; both last year's "The Dark Knight" and Tim Burton's original " Batman" owe a debt to Moore's "Batman: The Killing Joke."

This weekend, however, we get director Zack Snyder's sprawling adaptation of " Watchmen," Moore's most celebrated creation. Initially a 12-issue series with artist Dave Gibbons, the collected volume has become one of the most acclaimed graphic novels ever, hailed by Time magazine as one of the best 100 novels of the 20th Century. It's about aging superheroes, nuclear politics and social engineering.

That said, Moore has sworn off movie profits inspired by his books; he recently told the Los Angeles Times that he is opposed to movies based on his work. About "Watchmen" he said, "I will be spitting venom all over it for months to come." As with most of his comics, Moore has insisted "Watchmen" is "inherently unfilmable," heresy in this time of inevitable big-screen adaptation.

But he's right.

Comics are comics, period, with a language and tradition of their own. They are unique and separate from other art forms, not merely a series of detailed storyboards waiting to be translated into a film. Just as great literature is no promise of a great movie, great comic books don't automatically make better comic-book movies. Ask Frank Miller, Moore's American counterpart, whose Batman tale "The Dark Knight Returns" was released around the same time as "Watchmen" and became just as much of a classic. Though Hollywood has been good to Miller, with faithful adaptations of "300" and "Sin City," Miller's own directorial take on artist Will Eisner's creation, " The Spirit," released a few months ago, was not only unfaithful, but also murderous to the original.

With Moore, the text matters. The page matters. The context matters.

At his best, Moore is a deconstructionist, ideally suited to an age when we're so familiar with the history and spandex and capes that mark the superhero form that we prefer to go straight to the deconstruction. Moore tears apart iconic scenarios and cliches to rebuild and rework, as he did with "Top 10," a 1999-2001 comic-book series about super cops in a city where everyone from the prostitutes to the hot dog vendors are super, and therefore, no one is. Likewise, "Tom Strong," another millennial series, was a thinly veiled work of " Superman" criticism, about a strong man tone deaf to his actions, told in the earnest voice of early comics.

Not that Moore is squarely rooted in superhero boots. "From Hell," his Jack the Ripper opus, created from 19991 to 1996, is impossible to digest fully on a first reading. It is a doorstop of a black-and-white narrative and not the mystery you expect; it is less curious about the identity of the killer than the why and how of his acts. A signature of Moore's work is how attuned it is to the paranoia peeking from behind the most upstanding facade, and how it treats the most monstrous.

But there's also a British cheekiness about Moore, 54, who claims to be a recluse. There's a playful fussiness to him that, at worst, comes off like a teenage affectation—the muddled philosophical arguments driving the story of muddled anarchists in "V for Vendetta," for instance. He is also a cultural treasure chest, spilling over with connections that mash up a century of literature to create something new that honors the old.

"The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen," which finds Mina Harker (of Bram Stoker's "Dracula") teaming up with the Invisible Man and Captain Nemo, has nods to contemporary relevance, detours into Orwellian London, but never forgets the simple exhilaration of a Victorian adventure.

The quintessential Moore, of course, remains "Watchmen," about which much ink has been spilled and no less than three new books have been released that are tied to the film adaptation: "Watchmen: The Art of the Film" and "Watchmen: The Official Film Companion" by Peter Aperlo plus "Watchmen: Portraits" by Clay Enos, a coffee-table book of portraits shot of every major and minor character. We suggest sticking with the original "Watchmen" collection, recently released for the first time as a hardcover. First issued in 1987, the series remains very much of its time—a Cold War superhero tale that resonates most strongly in its original medium, reminding us always of the history of the comic book and unmasking the form while simultaneously expanding it.

cborrelli@tribune.com, relder@tribune.com

5 Alan Moore classics

"Swamp Thing Vol. I: Saga of the Swamp Thing." U. S. audiences' mainstream introduction to the British iconoclast. A B-list character from the DC Comics' universe—essentially, a walking vegetable—gets a fascinating, horrifying and mystical makeover.

"Across the Universe: The DC Universe Stories of Alan Moore." A collection of shorter pieces, including the superb Superman story "Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?"

"Batman: The Killing Joke." A twisted Joker tale. Both surprisingly moving and intensely inquisitive about the nature of madness.

"Alan Moore: Wild Worlds." Noteworthy for "The Big Chill," a story about superbeings trying to survive the last hours of the end of time.

Miracleman #1." Moore's take on Captain Marvel (released as "Marvelman" in the U.K.), pondering the dark consequences of creating superheroes.

—Christopher Borrelli, Robert K. Elder