Much of the appeal of writer Alan Moore and artist Dave Gibbons' 1986-87 comic book series Watchmen comes from its intricacy, not only in the narrative/visual approach in telling its story but also in its weaving of, at the risk of making it sound haughty, its existential philosophies. The 12-issue series (these days sold as one compiled graphic novel) features a multitude of primary characters who were costumed vigilantes -- some active, some not -- fashioned after comic book superheroes, though not really having any particular powers other than, perhaps, some advanced fight training and weaponry. They lived in an alternate version of our world -- taking place in 1985. Nixon's been elected to a fifth term mainly because of his popularity after having won the Vietnam War with the particular help of one of these "heroes," in this case, the only one of them to actually have superpowers. But now the Cold War has heated up to a boiling point, and nuclear warfare threatens the horizon.

The costumed avengers in this universe acted as avatars for a variety of political leanings and philosophical views, most of them dealing with what had become an increasingly despairing, downbeat, and violent world. Although there are a few hardened idealists, many of them are cynical, with views ranging from detached fatalism to ultra-conservative moral absolutism. The mixing of these modes of thought and the actions derived from them gave the series a philosophically epic scope which, frankly, would have been a tall order for director Zack Snyder to reproduce in a film adaptation. But he sure does try.

Snyder should at least get an "A" for effort in bringing Watchmen to the big screen. He was handicapped from the beginning, since the source is a work so heavily scrutinized by comic book fans that anything less than pure fidelity would've been considered blasphemy. I don't believe in this as a strict measure of value for any film adaptation, but fans need not worry much here - so much of the words and visuals are verbatim from the comics that it almost becomes its own straitjacket (the villain's method for the master plan is the only "major" change). But Snyder actually does get room for self-expression -- stylistically, it's all him; and thematically, he takes the tapestry of philosophies and is able to distill these elements mainly to the film's most iconic idea. Simply put: the universe is one big joke.

This approach seems appropriate, since the character whom much of the overall story revolves around is a guy called "The Comedian" (Jeffrey Dean Morgan). Dispatched in the first scene -- his smiley face badge stained with blood is practically Watchmen's logo -- his murder forms the prime mystery and his past actions haunt the ex-members of the Watchmen, a costumed-hero group disbanded after Nixon outlawed their brand of vigilante activity. This is because the  Comedian lived out his own philosophy to the hilt -- believing in an uncaring universe, he commits a variety of sins in the name of his country, eventually working for the government as a violent enforcer agent. His idea was to have a good laugh in the face of bleak evil, including his own -- after all, there's really no such thing as cosmic punishment -- but perhaps he suffered from being at least a little conscious about how he acted.

Snyder had to compact a sprawling comic series into a 2 hour 40 minute movie -- not an easy task -- but somehow he manages, and as a result, the events and characters within the story tend to highlight the views of the Comedian. He's the first character you get to know -- via flashbacks -- and his name and symbol are also invoked as the story starts to wrap up. After his nihilistic ideology establishes the movie's dark tone, it gets reflected by the godlike Dr. Manhattan's (Billy Crudup) belief that life is meaningless, the intelligent Ozymandias's (Matthew Goode) capitalistic opportunism, and the psychotic Rorschach's (Jackie Earle Haley) agenda to brutally punish criminals; then countered by moral consciences of a pair of costumed hero successors, Nite Owl II (Patrick Wilson) and Silk Spectre II (Malin Ackerman).

That's a lot of characters to keep track of, and frankly the story beats occur in such quick succession -- there's just so much to cram in -- that the traditional build-up of mystery suspense is somewhat sacrificed. But what stands out are the ironies in the events that occur and the reactions the characters have -- twists in the sense that nothing comforting or expected happens, thus emphasizing further this notion about life being  some kind of endless cruel joke, where no one but ourselves can laugh at, or appreciate ironically, the senselessness of everything that happens.

Snyder, though, can't help injecting  his sense of showiness into what should otherwise have been a blackly satiric take on comic book superhero ethics (i.e., they can save the world, but if the world isn't worth saving, why should they care?). The costumes of his heroes are a bit too nice, the visuals lean toward glossy (even as it's depicting noir-style grit), the gruesome violence is self-consciously emphasized, and the action is enhanced with exciting fight choreography and occasional speed-ramping. Snyder can be faulted, then, for not matching his visual style to the material's themes and tones; but then, perhaps he should not be denigrated for also trying to cater to his entertainment instincts in this case. Watchmen comes across as consistently interesting to look at, and for having such a downer concept it does make concessions to creating some awe and fun. These aren't terrible crimes except, perhaps, to the purest of purists -- and in some cases his touches are quite pleasing (the opening credits were particularly striking).

So, after 300, Snyder has delivered yet another reverent tableau, but at least one with a healthy dose of cynicism to counteract its conscientious beautifying. Plus, you can really feel the sincerity and challenge of his endeavor, which is appreciable. The result? A  movie fascinating to watch while asking us to contemplate moral relativity, the futility of life, the politics that bloom from human agression, the value of kidding ourselves, and other heady concepts you might fully expect to find in not just another comic book movie.

(Released by Warner Bros. Pictures and rated "R" for strong graphic violence, sexuality, nudity and language.)

Review also posted at www.windowtothemovies.com