Of all the things Moore’s Watchmen says about such broad topics as fascism, celebrity, and violence, I have always been most interested in what the graphic novel does not say, or rather, what it indirectly suggests through it’s impeccable characterization and imagery. On the surface, Watchmen, while not shy to less-than-subtle political critique, largely functions as a meta picture of comic books. It tackles the implications of overpowered God’s living among us, and more than anything, reveals that their presence would likely change things for the worst. And while undoubtedly portrayed as God’s by some stretched out meaning of the word, Moore’s cast of “hero’s” are often portrayed as more human than those without masks.
What remains the story’s most impressive accomplishment is also one of the story’s most revealing in term’s of developing the character of Rorschach. I am of course referring to the chapter “Fearful Symmetry,” which is almost exactly, you guessed it, symmetrical, not only in it’s paneling and art, but in it’s themes, characterizations, and dialogue. It is nothing short of brilliant. Now while it isn’t until later on that the whole of Rorscach’s life story is unveiled, this chapter tells us a lot more about the character than one would expect. Most significantly, of course, is that we find out that the alter ego of Rorscach is a recurring “doomer” spotted in the background of countless iconic scenes. It’s this really powerful moment, where we find out that the “terror of the underworld” is a short, unstable loner. It re-contextualizes every scene this man was in, because we know who he becomes when story “isn’t” focused on him as a part of the background.
What really draws me to this, besides the intricate details laced throughout the story that subtly point to Rorscach’s identity, is the events that unfold at the end of the comic. Rorscach is set-up to make it look as if he killed Jacobi, AKA, Moloc, a now retired supervillain. Rorscach, up until this point, is pretty impeccable in his investigation. He walks away from crime scenes and violent altercations with little regard for his safety, he isn’t afraid of asking “the big questions,” he is unrelentingly brutal in his techniques of interrogation, and he is putting together the pieces of a massive conspiracy pretty effectively, at least by comparison of his former coworkers, who all suspect Rorscach is behaving as per usual with his paranoia. Rorscach likes to think himself the only one who can spot what’s going on, behind all the corruption and lies of society, but that is his major flaw. His insular philosophical mindset doesn’t reflect the real world, and it often leads to him completely disregarding his allegedly unwavering sense of justice.
The “hero,” of the story, the badass detective who talks in a gravelly voice and sees the world for what it is, he is incredibly unstable and consistently espouses reactionary ideas despite claiming he knows the truth, the only path forward for humanity. This man bent on bringing justice to the world, cannot seem to stand humanity at all, and thinks them as inherently vile creatures. He has “lived in the shadows,” his whole life, and from his own perspective, has been surrounded by the dark side of humanity so much so, that he projects his worldview onto his “objective” image of the world, and humans as a whole. His truth is linked to his desire of getting people to stop behaving “filthily” and it’s pretty clear this is driven by bias and personal experiences, that later get touched on. But it is this sort of twisting of the notion of protagonist that I want to focus on here.
If the term “superhero” is at once linked with the idea of a “God” and “humanity,” in Moore’s world, this last page of the chapter is what tells us that. After feeling like he is getting closer to uncovering the details of the Comedian’s murder, Rorschach walks right into a trap. The second he realizes his misstep, we see his inner monologue shift. He isn’t so certain anymore, and he immediately defaults to insulting his own intellect andcgetting angry at himself not being careful enough. For the duration of the police raid, his image as an unstoppable force is torn to shreds. This is shown with really careful jutaposition. First, Rorschach does, to his credit, hold his own initially. He is more skilled using makeshift weaponry than the majority of heavil-armed police squad sent to place him under arrest. He makes a flamethrower out of a can of hairspray, literally materializing things that were not there before, as a literal God would. He takes down the police one by one, and has the advantage over them as he lurks in the shadows, until he needs to escape.
After plunging two or three stories to the street in an attempt to escape Jacobi’s apartment building, Rorschach shows his first signs of vulnerability. His image as a “god” is challenged. He refuses to believe that he, the objectivist, the only true form of justice in an unjust world, is in pain. He is so enraged by his failure to spot the set-up, that during a time he should be recovering from his injury, he is retroactively tracing his missteps. His ego is getting in the way, and this is clearly a human issue. God’s are allegedly perfect, but Rorschach, like everyone else, sometimes doesn’t see what’s right in front of him. And unlike a god, Rorshach is not impervious to fall damage. The police are as surprised by his human shortcomings as he is; they too expected the image of Rorshach to live up to his mythos.
The next section of panels shows Rorschach’s iconic mask, which is also key here; when an officer kicks it, the shifting black ink, which always moves in a symmetrical pattern, sort of scatters, and upon this disruption, it no longer looks perfectly symmetrical, which is of course to say, Rorschach is no longer maintaining the image of fear that he is known for, he is broken. And while the focus of my post here is not the “underlying queerness” of Rorschach’s character (a claim which I think is pretty well substantiated), I cannot help but pay attention to the fact that this raid on Rorschach is essentially a “queer beating.” There is a sense of gratification from the officers beating him, as if they’re getting more out of stopping the masked vigilante than merely putting an end to his career.
Finally, the officers remark about Rorschach’s height, his smell, and his overall un-recognizability. These things are not noticeable, though, on their own, but only in direct contrast to the methods by which Rorschach covers them up. These cops point out the smell, because it is the covering up of a smell that draws their attention. Similarly, they point out that he is a “runt,” not because they see him as short, but because they see him covering his height up with the lift’s he is wearing. The cops would likely not have pointed out that Rorschach was a nobody underneath his mask, if his reputation as the “terror of the underworld” didn’t surpass the reality of his identity. It is in the “covering up” of his humanity, that Rorschach fail’s to become anything more than human. His attempt to surpass humanity, as this objective specter who just lingers in the background, spectating and pontificating on the state of humanity, is largely revealed to be a farce. And it is no accident that Rorschach see’s it the other way around; he believes that Walter is his alter-ego and that the mask he wears is his true face.
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