There's no mistaking the political statement in V for Vendetta, in which the hero is also a terrorist.
By Steve Persall
Published March 16, 2006
Published March 16, 2006
V for Vendetta is the boldest political statement against the Bush
administration since the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Even Michael Moore
wouldn't prescribe bombing government facilities as a cure for dubious
leadership. A futuristic setting in England doesn't disguise the film's
rabid intent.
James McTeigue's movie will be branded as
irresponsible, even dangerous, by some viewers, although if the past in
any indication, the ones who don't see it will yowl loudest. All those
knee-jerk critics need to know is that the film's hero is a terrorist.
V
for Vendetta audaciously proposes that one man's terrorist is another
man's freedom fighter, and the difference between good and evil is
mostly semantic.
The film is based on a graphic novel written by
Alan Moore and illustrated by David Lloyd; the book was released in 1989
to protest the political atmosphere of the Margaret Thatcher years.
The
plot has been reworked to post-9/11 sensibilities by Andy and Larry
Wachowski, who wrote their first draft before The Matrix made them
famous. Alan Moore has distanced himself from the production; an adapted
dud such as The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen can make an author skittish.
Or
perhaps he guessed a firestorm lay ahead and didn't want to answer for
other authors' ideas. The Wachowski brothers are notoriously reclusive,
making this a cut-and-run protest of sorts. V for Vendetta will reignite
those claims of disconnect between the film industry and the real world
that George Clooney eloquently doused at the recent Academy Awards.
The
movie begins with a flashback to 1605 when Guy Fawkes unsuccessfully
conspired to blow up Parliament, and was captured and executed.
"Remember, remember, the fifth of November,'' the poem begins. But
people have forgotten by 2019 when a mysterious figure wearing a cape
and eerie Fawkes mask plots an explosive reminder.
Hugo Weaving
"Agent Smith'' in the Matrix trilogy wears the mask throughout the film,
yet his elocution of the Wachowskis' rich, rebellious dialogue creates a
fuller character than expected.
He calls himself V, explained
with delirious alliteration to Evey (Natalie Portman), whom he rescues
from a trio of lecherous government goons. V takes Evey to a rooftop to
witness his masterpiece, blowing up the Old Bailey courthouse on Nov. 5,
2019, to protest a totalitarian regime. She becomes his accomplice,
both pursued by grim inspector Finch (Stephen Rea). V vows to complete
Fawkes' mission and blow up Parliament on Nov. 5, 2020.
The
screenplay stacks the cards in V's favor, with vaguely familiar polemics
about strength, unity and faith in God spouted by blustery Chancellor
Sutler (John Hurt) and a TV commentator ranting like Bill O'Reilly.
Color-coded curfews keep dissent down; the media is a spin-control tool;
and a Ministry of Objectionable Materials hides books, works of art,
even a jukebox from citizens. Possessing a copy of the Koran is reason
for execution, lumping Muslims into the same undesirable group with
homosexuals and anyone who disagrees.
"The security of this nation depends upon complete and total compliance,'' Sutler says, and we're urged to hiss.
Such
words speak much louder than violent actions in V for Vendetta. This is
a film about ideas, not entirely popular ones, that could topple a
government faster than bombs if enough people took them to heart. The
finale of McTeigue's movie, when V's vendetta spreads to the masses, is
so revolutionary that I wondered how this movie ever got made, much less
distributed by a major studio (in this case, Warner Bros.).
Does
it endorse terrorism? Not as much as it decries politicians using fear
to rule. More semantics. The future, the film loudly declares, is now.
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