Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face.
Nearly ten years ago, as midnight approached on May 18, 1999, I was sitting eight bodies from the front of the line outside theatre one at the Fairview Mall Cineplex. Having waited sixteen years for this, the Gen-X apotheosis, I’d purchased tickets for the first three screenings and booked the next day off work to recover. Midnight came, we scrambled to our seats… and all my hope and excitement was rewarded with this:
Watchmen comes out this Friday. I’m going to see it and there’s a good chance you will, too. All I ask – all I beg of you – is that you read the book before you see the movie. At best, the film will be an entertaining but still watered down version of the graphic novel. At worst, it will be another League of Extraordinary Gentlemen – a debacle so worthless nobody would ever dream of seeking out the source material for further punishment.
I bought Jamie a copy two years ago and he still hasn’t cracked the spine. That was around the same time I wrote this:
“Zack Snyder's next project is the long-awaited adaptation of Watchmen, the greatest comic ever written and the only comic on Time's list of the 100 best novels of the last century. I love that book more than Jamie loves complaining and I await the movie with the dread and longing of a man about to be reunited with the high school sweetheart he never stopped loving. She's changed, to be sure, but for better or worse? Will he even recognize her?”
Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.
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