politics

Imagine, if you will, a large room, completely dark. The room is crowded with people, most of whom you can’t see. Only those next to you can you see dimly. You don’t know what others are doing, thinking, or what they look like.

However, a flashlight comes on and you can see a person, and also hear what he is saying.

Let’s say he’s ranting about something. There is a murmur in the darkened crowd, and suddenly six other flashlights pop on. The people highlighted now chat about that rant. No one in your area. But you can see all the others and hear them talking about it.

Then a strong murmur sweeps the crowd and seventeen new flashlights pop on, the people responding to the first flashlit rant. Sometimes, you notice, they try and correct the rant, sometimes the person rants about the rant, and occasionally a spotlighted man or woman will talk about how this rant is felt through the entire room.

But you don’t know what everyone else is thinking about the rant. And even more importantly, you don’t know if they would have been thinking about the rant had the first person not been flashlit. Why was that person flashlit in the first place? Hmmm. Maybe those with flashlights enjoy the reaction of the crowd, or they may be paid by someone to flashlight on a regular basis, and sometimes those with flashlights are concerned about other people with flashlights getting more attention.

This is Media.

I work for the media, and I know that my flashlight is used to highlight something I want people to know or talk about. To keep my job, I have to have things to light up. To move up the career ladder, I must highlight things that will get people talking–and even to flashlight more people talking about what I talked about–to create the bigger murmur. I can either join the chorus of voices, lead the chorus of voices, or attempt to highlight something else–and wrest the focus, the murmur of the crowd, the other flashlights, on a topic I want to highlight.

Recent articles on Sarah Palin forget one thing–they turned the flashlight on her. Her Facebook page is one of a billion Facebook pages; her opinion is one of a billion opinions. She has no more sway if we don’t flashlight her. We would never have known about her Facebook page, except that someone with a flashlight wanted to get the crowd’s attention. Media control people’s knowledge and awareness. In that darkened room, no one really is aware of my opinion without the media. My blog comment here will reach exactly 120 people over the course of my life–only because these are my friends and they don’t need a flashlight to see me. I’d be lucky if this post made it outside my close circle of friends. My opinion here couldn’t make the murmur happen–and flashlighting someone without the expectation that this will cause a murmur is a waste of batteries, it seems. Fluff stories. Feature articles to pass the time.

I hope as new technology transforms all of us into Media—with our own flashlights–that we choose carefully what to highlight–that we don’t spread the rants of bigotry, lies, distortions, and divisive arguments around the internet or TV. Let’s choose truth to highlight–even ugly truth, but we make sure it is truth first.

As flashlighters in a darkened room, we are responsible for vetting what we highlight—we are asking the whole room to turn and look at us. We are asking the whole room to think about what we are flashlighting them to see. What we flashlight may not be indicative of the thoughts of the whole room, but it can influence people so much that other people will think they are the thoughts of everyone, might even change their minds, or it might cause them to assume that the whole world is thinking this or that. Gradually, that assumption will win over naysayers.

You can use this to the world’s detriment, or use it to sway the world for its good. Palin may cry foul over the media’s flashlighting, but she loves the light. And she knows how to manipulate it. You can END this story by turning the flashlights off of her. Ignoring someone is the fastest way to shut them up, to make them irrelevant. You can kill “news” by putting it in a vacuum. You can choose to flashlight INTELLIGENT opposition, not lies. It doesn’t help the Republicans or the naysayers to the Healthcare plan to continue spotlighting Palin’s rants. Turn off her light; let smarter voices be heard.

The media, ultimately, is responsible for the life of a bad, or good, story.

Please, for the sake of our time and sanity, stop highlighting things that tear down truth, and spotlight the truth instead. You can still get the murmur, get the crowd talking. We have to train the crowd to murmur against real injustice, murmur about the making the world better–something that makes a difference, not that makes a buck out of a murmur.

In the dark, the flashlights are the only way anyone can see. Use them well.

My title refers not to whether or not you should watch the film, but about the dilemma of the characters–to watch over others or not.

You should see the film. It’s good to understand the gritty basics of superheroes and why they do what they do, and what kinds of mortals these heroes be.

I’ve bought the book, but I haven’t done more than skim it to see how close it comes to the movie. I think the movie is faithful to the book. But for those who haven’t read the book–like me–here’s the skinny on the movie:

The movie explores a history of superheroes in America–as if they really existed. The opening credits are brilliant. All the moments of American history have as a background these groups of superheroes–mostly non-superpowered costumed vigilantes. We won Vietnam, Nixon has won a third term as President, it is 1985. We are in a cold war, but Andy Warhol is painting Night Owl not Marilyn Monroe.

Someone is killing off costumed superheroes who have retired. Since an Act of Congress, superhero groups and persons have been outlawed or disbanded. One of the superheroes has become a megamillionaire trying to create green energy; others have just retired without revealing who they were. The threat of nuclear war is ever present. One hero has superpowers, Dr. Manhattan, created in an accident (like all good heroes), and he is approaching godhood, barely concerned with humanity, but seeking to help find a way to help the world find an energy solution too. He is the reason the Russians don’t attack–they are frightened of his nuclear abilities.

These heroes have mixed pasts. They are more vigilantes, no longer asked to keep vigil. There is no strong moral code guiding them. Except for Night Owl, very few of them know what a moral code is. For Rorschach, whose mask constantly changes shape–a fascinating thing to watch–humanity is disgusting, all the baser natures breeding and leaving nothing of value. For him, he doesn’t care about humanity–they are all criminals waiting to happen. When he searches the streets to find answers to who killed the Comedian (who dies in the first few minutes of both the film and the trailer), he beats people up to get his answers.

The movie is more complex than a whodunnit. And this is what I love about the story. It will complicate your ideas of justice. And heroes. And what responsibility is taken up when you take up a costume and “crimefighting,” and what kind of person needs to have that role, and what person doesn’t need to have it.

The movie shows us heroes who want to do something to help the world, but are filled so much with their own problems that they just don’t have the teamwork, the focus–they aren’t even on the same page. You thought the Fantastic Four squabbled, but this is chaos. It’s gritty real, though, at what a “real” group of heroes would be doing–all idealism, but with their own agendas.

If you liked Dark Knight, you will enjoy Watchmen. It makes you think about vigilantism–what decisions you are allowed to make on behalf of others, and what decisions you shouldn’t make on behalf of others–even to keep them safe.

The movie is also visually stunning. The sequences on Mars, the blue Dr. Manhattan, the fighting sequences–we’ve come a long way through the Matrix and out again.

The movie isn’t perfect. I’ve never seen a worse Nixon–he looks plastic, as if he is wearing a mask himself; there are poor choices in music–Leonard Cohen singing “Hallelujah” during a sex scene; the sex scene itself seems a bit long. But these are small things in a long movie that, overall, satisfies.

It has a lot of gratuitous violence–but I think the violence says a lot about these heroes. They’ve become numb to it, to the choices they make regarding other people. The world is something to clean up and guard. Silk Sepctre II says that the law that disbanded superheroes was the best thing to ever happen to her–she never wanted to be a superhero. Her mother, the first Silk Spectre, made her. She hated the clothes. And the responsibility.

The end will keep you talking for weeks. I promise you. It is no easy ending and the movie leaves you wrestling with decisions. Go see it. Justice isn’t an easy topic. Our conversation afterwards at Tim Horton’s involved youth who tag buildings with graffiti, but it could have been anything we were upset about. To what ends does vigilantism aspire? How far would you work outside of “the law” to get “justice”? It sparks a lot of difficult conversations. I’m sure I came across like an idiot–but i tend to let myself talk to see what I might say. Cause only when I’ve said it, do I get to evaluate whether or not I believe it.

So, go see the movie and see what you start talking about afterwards.