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Snyder’s adaptation, like the comic,  begins with the murder of controversial vigilante The Comedian. A scene only a couple of panels long in the book extrapolated to a full on action frenzy to start the plot with a bang. Its more The Matrix than the Hitchcock evoked in the original. This probably wasn’t a wise move, getting uninitiated audience members psyched for an action film. In reality its more a kind of kitch, cyber-punk superhero sci-fi whodunnit, with lots of heavy dialogue punctuated by bouts of nasty violence. More encouraging is the title sequence, a wonderful piece of work that vies for the films high-point. The montage, sound tracked to Bob Dylan, elegantly establishes Moore’s then contemporary America of costumed vigilantes, imminent nuclear war and the long shadow cast by Dr Manhattan; a near-omnipotent big, blue and impressively naked super being who’s involvement turned the tide of the Vietnam war in favour of Uncle Sam.

The cast is generally strong, with show stealer’s in the forms of Wilson’s likeable over-the-hill Night Owl and Haley’s growling night terror Rorschach. Crudup’s Dr Manhatten is also a success, underpinning the characters coldly analytical introspection with a thread of humane melancholy.

Snyder’s problem is in the way he frames scenes, the self-concious direction and overt stylization saps atmosphere and obliterates forward momentum (an aside: the scenes in the political bunker are the films nadir, in a very po-faced film Nixon and his ridiculous prosthetic nose evoke a farce that makes Kubrick’s Strangelove feel historical record). That was Nolan’s triumph with his Batman films, they felt real, every scene felt part of an established universe, Gotham’s political and economical troubles bubbling below the surface of every scene. Here, such constant turmoil is rarely realised.

The soundtrack is routinely superb. The most memorable scenes are when Snyder simply lets the visuals and the music do the talking. It is only at these times that Watchmen seems to find its identity and the whole thing begins to gel. The same cannot be said for the action; Moore and Gibbon’s violence felt raw, necessary and uncompromising. In the film, as arms snap and heads are cleaved, (often in cgi-aided slow motion) the tone is stylized and exploitative, it regularly detracts from the reality of the piece.

This film then is also a product of contradiction. A very visual adaptation of an extremely literary work. It adheres tentatively to the source material and Snyder never seems entirely comfortable directing scenes that don’t involve a lot of CG and people maiming each other in slow motion. The result is pacing that is clunky and unfocussed, yet visually often exhilarating and the way Gibbon’s (who also contributed to the production) artwork is recreated on screen produces many moments that will delight hardcore fans. In other areas the script needlessly fiddles with key scenes from the book, often to unsubtle and reductive effect. The film soars when screenwriters Hayter and Tse dare to forge their own path, both in the aforementioned title sequence and the manufacturing of a new ending that cleverly repositions Manhattan as the plots central strand and wraps things up in a rather satisfying way.

At over 160 minutes the film feels flabby and the story clunkily abridged, like a greatest hits album with perhaps a few too many duff covers. That said its a miracle it got made at all, unwieldy but often impressively so and some of its set pieces capture a certain sparkle, a tingle of Moore and Gibbons genius.

There’s true craft here and the kind of daring rarely seen in mainstream cinema. But then that feeling of contradiction is back. The film doesn’t progress, it lumbers. For every moment a success there is another that under closer inspection crumbles tragically. Such boldness deserves reward and as an experience I’m temped to award a higher mark. But this is a film review and a brief scan along the list of failed attempts to bring it to screen by other visionaries that fell along the way (big love, Mr Greengrass) its difficult to shake the impression that with Snyder we had to make do with a regrettably middle of the road end product.

I don’t have the heart to call it a failure, nor the optimism to label it a triumph. Thankfully a story as timeless as this bears retelling. Until then I leave you with a very solid and well earned…

3 stars (out of 5)