In a fairer world, Watchmen would be heralded as the one of (if not the) finest superhero movies ever made. Yet we (or at least I) simply must appreciate the miracle that it ever got made in the first place. Based on Alan Moore’s legendary graphic novel, the adaptation was never going to please everyone. Fans would complain about changes; the dim-witted, narrative complexity; the restless, length and pacing; the uptight, Manhattan’s big blue wang making them feel all squidgy inside.

But for the rest (an admitted minority), Watchmen is a treat, the Godfather of superhero flicks in length, density and atmosphere. Set in a world where America won Vietnam and Richard Nixon is still president, a group of outlawed heroes lives under an ongoing cold war that threatens global nuclear annihilation at any moment. Traipsing through timelines and POVs, director Zack Snyder (Man of Steel) chronicles the fall of the fascist Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), the loneliness of sad-sack Nite Owl (Patrick Wilson), the madness of Ozymandias (Matthew Goode), the objectification of Silk Spectres I and II (Carla Gugino and Malin Akerman, respectively) and the messianic aloofness of Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup), a naked, 7-foot-tall CGI blue god who counts as the only true superhero (and who beat the blue CGI characters from Avatar to the punch by a good four months).

Running through all storylines is Rorschach (Jackie Earle Haley), the maniacal heart of both iterations. A merciless dispenser of justice, Rorschach is both Batman and Joker, a psychotic vigilante unbound by moral compromise. In a movie of terrific performances, Haley is the standout (seriously, where’s his Oscar?), driving everything relentlessly forward as he investigates the death of the Comedian in the shadow of Armageddon.

Yes, there are quibbles. Gugino’s old-age makeup is atrocious. Neither Spectre is really given anything to do other than exist for the gratification of others (a problem shared with the novel). The music is too on-the-nose. The owlship sex scene does raise titters (even if it copies Moore’s work beat for beat). And yes, I miss the squid-alien monstrosity of the original finale.

Yet what remains is extraordinary (particularly in the four-hour cut, which expands much of the backstory and incorporates Moore’s comic-within-a-comic, Tales of the Black Freighter, in animated form). It’s refreshingly adult. The action is clean and vigorous. It’s morally ambiguous in a way The Dark Knight only wished it could be. There are images of absolute beauty. It’s broad and epic, yet intimate when it needs to be.

Finally, unlike many films, Watchmen gets better with each viewing. There’s a lot to catch. As much as I love The Dark Knight, the benchmark of modern superhero films, Watchmen is better. —Corey Redekop

Buy it at Amazon.

I often play a mental game, connecting unconnected films through themes, style, etc. and pretending they exist in the same cinematic universe. Example: Outland, sharing a composer, costume designer, concept artist and probably more than a few grips with Alien always has seemed to exist in the same world as Ridley Scott’s film. Perhaps the Weyland-Yutani Corporation owns Outland’s Con-Am 27 mining operation. (I’m also sure Wey-Yu has a hand in Blade Runner‘s corporate world, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find its logo stenciled on equipment scattered about the base of Moon, either.)

Outland has no xenomorphs running about, but it does have Sean Connery kicking ass on the surface of Jupiter’s third moon, Io, so it ain’t a total loss. Actually, it is a great deal of fun, and while it’s often dismissed as being High Noon in space, why is that a bad thing? After all, Alien is Halloween in space, really.

Connery delivers one of his best performances, 007 or otherwise, as a planet-weary marshal policing a mining community on the ass-end of space. Trying to stop the shipments of a drug that increases worker performance and causes insanity (writer/director Peter Hyams’ script is weirdly prescient of America’s ongoing meth crisis), he finds little help from anyone, loses his family, and soon finds himself counting down the hours until hit men arrive to take him out.

It’s not terribly original, and there are quibbles to be found in its inaccuracies concerning science, gravity, technology, et al. But it also has terrific visual design, clean action, Young Frankenstein‘s Peter Boyle, marvelous miniatures and practical effects from the golden age of such, and a wonderful supporting turn by Francis Sternhagen (The Mist) as the local Bones McCoy, reminding us of her many talents outside of being Cliff Clavin’s mother on TV’s Cheers.

Speaking of Cliff Clavin: If you, like me, are not a fan of the character and/or John Ratzenberger, you’ll find immense gratification in Outland’s first five minutes, when the actor’s head explodes in the vacuum of space. Again, not scientifically accurate, but satisfying and splatterific. —Corey Redekop

Buy it at Amazon.