At least the Doom Patrol movie isn't likely getting made...
Wandering down Granville street, killing time before meeting up with Rheanna. Walking past the Golden Age, I pause to look at the enormous Watchmen display in their front window. It’s been weird for me, seeing bus stop ads, street posters and copies of the book for sale at the supermarket. I was 16 the first time I read Watchmen, a battered copy of the trade paperback that cost me $8. I’m 30 next week, which means that it’s been with me for almost half my life, forming my opinions and feelings on the medium. Looking through that window, seeing action figures, statues and replica props (Rorschach’s mask and grappling gun if you can believe it) the thought occurred to me: What if everything that ever meant anything to me growing up is destined to be commodified and sold off as tacky merchandise? I considered the idea for a moment, and discarded it. I don’t want to be culturally possessive, and much as I love it and have invested parts of myself in it, Watchmen doesn’t belong to me. And if the movie or the action figure or whatever gets some kid to buy the comic, well hell then, who am I to complain?
As I walked a few doors down, I looked in the window of the Urban Outfitters store. One of the mannequins in their window display was wearing a Joy Division t-shirt.
The future is a very confusing place.