|
V for Vendetta March 26, 2006 |
||
|
Here’s a strange sort of movie paradox that you don’t see too often – a mainstream action film that asks you to root for, and believe in, a masked terrorist who blows up famous buildings as rebellion against his government. You would think such a thing would be unacceptable in these times, not five years removed from 9/11, but “V for Vendetta” relishes in its heroes terrorist plotting and execution, never apologizing, or even needing to apologize, for the uncomfortable position it puts the audience in, because, it’s all perfectly harmless. The film is blatantly non-fiction, set in a futuristic England where a dictatorship rules with a tight fist of propaganda and strong arm tactics, so any illusions that can be made to present situations are hard to come by (it would be impossible to mistake V, the terrorist hero, who wears a creepy Guy Fawkes mask as his cover, as a surrogate for Osama Bin Laden), and better yet, thinly veiled criticisms of modern administrations (particularly Bush’s America, and England in the 80’s under Thatcher) hit only the hardcore politicos looking for it, everybody else would just as much take it as an Orwellian exercise in governmental revisionist thinking, with a bent towards the Dark Side. The film may glorify rebellion, and in a way, even sentimentalize the carefully orchestrated use of explosives to make a point (the two building explosions equate to a July 4th celebration, in American terms), but note that never does the word terrorist come from anybody but the state-run propaganda machine, making it that much more easier to accept, and cheer on, an anti-establishment madman in a plastic facemask, who does his bidding in the name of vengeance, and the proletariat well being. Eisenstein, had he lived another 60 years to see it, would be proud. “V for Vendetta” is based on a series of popular Alan Moore graphic comic strips of the ‘80’s, satirical, darkly comical fantasy strips about a future that, at the time, oddly resembled that of the pits of Thatcherism, where a figurehead named Sutler (John Hurt, not coincidently the hero, Winston Smith, of the 1984 adaptation of “1984”) rules the country like Big Brother, with independent thoughts a prerequisite to the torture chamber. On the fifth of November, a man in a Guy Fawkes mask (he being the 17th century revolutionary who tried to blow up Parliament, but was caught, and promptly executed), sets out to destroy the Sutler government, first by blowing up the Old Bailey, and, a year later, by finishing the job his dead predecessor couldn’t. This masked revolutionary goes by the name V, and he’s played by Huge Weaving as the voice of reason in an unreasonable living state, a man who cherishes all of the free speech, literature, and high art that his government deems objectionable martial, and acts solely, with a vendetta against the people who turned him into a monster (there’s a back story I won’t get into), to free England of it’s hideous totalitarian rulers. He meets a girl named Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman) one night and is taken aback by her beauty, in a beauty-and-the-beast type of deal, but Evey, a waif whose revolutionary parents were murdered by Sutler’s henchmen, doesn’t at first buy V’s mission, or his strange protective mask, but he sums it up in stunningly alliterative fashion. “This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished, as the once vital voice of verisimilitude now venerates what they once vilified.” The confusing monologue goes on for a few more beats, with words like “veracity”, “verily”, and, get this, “vichyssoise”, thrown in to further play up our heroes penchant for one particular chapter in Webster’s, or to further impart a likeability upon the audience to cozy up to this obviously disturbed, smooth talking nutjob. But for every goofy, overemphasized moment of doublespeak, V makes up for it with his actions on the battlefield, wielding his knives and swords like a futuristic freak incarnation of the Count of Monte Cristo, to whom he is forever indebted. The film, directed by James McTeigue, and adapted by the Wachowski Brothers without Alan Moore’s blessing, plays a bit like “The Matrix” (McTeigue was first AD on that Sci-Fi classic), without all of the confusing computer mumbo jumbo, and because of the familiarity, not to mention the heroics of a revolution, which we’ve seen a thousand times before, the film has few new tricks to show us, but for the life of me, it’s an entertaining film, with an unusual hero that is easy to root for, despite his terrorist leanings, and fruity monologues. Weaving is great in a thankless role behind the immobile Fawkes mask (essentially, he’s convincing us with only his voice), and Portman, in a role that could have fit Keira Knightly to a tee, does fine work as the girl who slowly regains her families history of rebellion, thanks to the help of V, and one extended torture sequence that heightens the realism of the situation by shaving the pretty young actresses head cue bald. That has nothing to do with the artistic merit of the film, but it’s always nice to see an actor go the extra step for a role they believe in, like DeNiro for “Raging Bull”, Clooney for “Syriana”, and Tim Allen for “The Shaggy Dog”. All told, if you like explosions, anti-establishmentism, “1984”, bald actresses, Che Guevara, “The Matrix”, and knives, and seriously, who doesn’t, than “V for Vendetta” is right up your alley. “V for Vendetta” is playing at the Movie-Plex 59. by Adam Suraf
|