The Squid That Wasn’t: Zack Snyder’s Bold (or Blasphemous) Rewrite of *Watchmen*
There’s something almost poetic about the way Zack Snyder defended his decision to axe the giant squid from his 2009 Watchmen adaptation. To him, it wasn’t a betrayal of Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ iconic comic—it was a streamlining, a way to keep the film’s thematic core intact without getting bogged down in what he called a ‘30-minute right turn.’ Personally, I think this is where the conversation gets fascinating. Snyder’s choice wasn’t just about pacing; it was a statement about what Watchmen truly means—and whether its essence can survive without its most bizarre, unforgettable moment.
The Squid as Symbol: What Snyder Left Behind
Let’s be clear: the squid in the comic isn’t just a monster. It’s a masterpiece of absurdity, a grotesque exclamation point on the story’s critique of power and unity. Dave Gibbons’ artwork doesn’t show the squid itself—only its aftermath, a blood-soaked New York that feels like a punch to the gut. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the squid embodies the comic’s central tension: the idea that humanity might only unite in the face of something utterly nonsensical, something that defies logic or morality.
Snyder’s film, on the other hand, replaces this chaos with a cleaner, more ‘logical’ catastrophe: the explosion of Doctor Manhattan’s reactors. From my perspective, this change isn’t just cosmetic. It shifts the focus from the absurdity of unity to the rejection of superheroes as a flawed ideal. The squid’s absence feels like a missed opportunity to challenge the audience, to force them to grapple with the story’s ugliness. Instead, the film opts for a tidier resolution—one that, in my opinion, loses some of the comic’s subversive edge.
The Pacing Argument: A Valid Excuse or a Cop-Out?
Snyder’s defense hinges on pacing. He argued that introducing the squid would require too much exposition, potentially derailing the film’s momentum. One thing that immediately stands out is how this rationale reveals his priorities: character development over narrative shock. He didn’t want to cut scenes exploring Rorschach’s nihilism or Nite Owl’s midlife crisis to make room for the squid. What this really suggests is that Snyder saw Watchmen as a character study first, a deconstruction of superhero tropes second.
But here’s where I diverge from Snyder’s logic: the squid isn’t just a plot device—it’s a thematic lynchpin. By removing it, he didn’t just save time; he altered the story’s DNA. The squid forces readers to confront the absurdity of Ozymandias’ plan, the moral bankruptcy of his ‘greater good.’ Without it, the film’s ending feels almost… respectable. And that’s a problem, because Watchmen was never meant to be respectable.
The Bigger Picture: Adapting the Unadaptable
What many people don’t realize is that adapting Watchmen was always going to involve compromise. The comic’s brilliance lies in its density, its layers of text and subtext that resist easy translation to film. Snyder’s decision to ditch the squid is just one example of a broader trend in adaptations: the tendency to smooth out rough edges, to make the unpalatable palatable.
If you take a step back and think about it, this raises a deeper question: Can a work like Watchmen ever truly be adapted? Or is it inherently bound to its medium, its panels and pages? Snyder’s film is slick, visually stunning, and often misunderstood. But in my opinion, it’s also a reminder that some stories are too wild, too unruly, to be contained in two and a half hours of screen time.
The Squid’s Legacy: What We Lost and What We Gained
Here’s a detail that I find especially interesting: despite the backlash, Snyder’s Watchmen tested well with fans. This suggests that while purists mourned the squid’s absence, many viewers were willing to accept his reinterpretation. This raises a provocative idea: maybe Watchmen’s themes are flexible enough to survive even radical changes.
But personally, I can’t shake the feeling that something essential was lost. The squid wasn’t just a monster—it was a metaphor for the chaos at the heart of the story. By replacing it with a more conventional disaster, Snyder made Watchmen more accessible, but also less daring. And in a world where superhero stories dominate the box office, daring is exactly what we need.
Final Thoughts: The Squid That Haunts Us Still
In the end, Snyder’s Watchmen is a fascinating case study in adaptation, a reminder that fidelity to the source material isn’t always about replicating every detail. But it’s also a cautionary tale about the dangers of playing it safe. The squid may be gone from the film, but it lingers in the conversation, a ghostly reminder of what could have been.
What this really suggests is that Watchmen’s legacy isn’t just about its story—it’s about the debates it sparks, the questions it forces us to ask. And in that sense, Snyder’s controversial choice may have been exactly what the story needed: a new way to keep us talking, arguing, and thinking about what it means to watch the Watchmen.
