Never Mind The B*ll*cks

Rating: 5/10 (18 March 2006)

It's difficult to see who exactly James McTeigue's 'V For Vendetta' is aimed at. Even given that Alan Moore's complex tale has been stripped to the bone (perhaps inevitably, as otherwise we'd be looking a looong film), it's far too wordy for most action-movie audiences  and, by the same reckoning, too violent for more thoughtful patrons. There are allusions to 'America's War' in the near-past, and of how religious fundamentalism and intolerance have come to shape the dystopia represented, but these connections are astonishingly heavy handed and unsubtle. This, plus the Wachowski Brothers fondness for cod-philosophising reduces Moore's incisive wit into something more blunt and unsubtle. That said, there are a few genuinely interesting comments made about the nature of terrorism which I'm surprised survived into the final script. No wonder the Daily Mail hated it.
The biggest problem is the main character, the man known as V. In the comic book world (where masks are the norm) V's blank, unchanging gaze adds to his mystery. Here, though, his only expression is vocal, a great limitation of the talents of Hugo Weaving.
A Prologue  intended, quite clearly, for American consumption  explains a little of Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot to destroy Parliament. To some extent I can see why this is done, as very few Yanks will have heard of Fawkes, and may wonder why our hero, V, dresses in the style of this historical character. This introduction sets the plotter up as an idealist, a crusader against injustice, which taps into part of what our hero is supposed to represent  the Freedom Fighter. It's a simplistic interpretation which does rather defeat the essential message of Moore's character and book. Fawkes wanted a new order, yes, but he fought on behalf of an authority no more democratic or tolerant than the one he sought to destroy. He also wanted vengeance on those  the Protestant King James, especially  whom he felt has persecuted his Catholic brethren. The bulk of the population considered him a terrorist  which is why his defeat is celebrated each November 5th. Moore's character is complex  recognising that Idealism, Terrorism and Vengeance are all part of the same destructive impulse. In the graphic novel V quotes, on occasion, from the Rolling Stones' 'Sympathy For The Devil', which is the best indicator of what the character represents  his own personal vendetta aside, he's an Anarchist, a catalyst for sudden and bloody change.
V's 'origins' are hinted at, but by depriving us of the detail of the original source material he becomes more human, more the 'wronged man'  and, again, I can see why this was done, as audiences are expected to empathise with their hero  but it does make what he is (as opposed to who he is) less frightening. And V should be frightening. Another attempt to humanise V  the hint of romantic feeling between him and Natalie Portman's Evey  completely misfires.
There are a few equally misjudged comic moments, the worst of which  a grimace-inducing 'Benny Hill' skit (more trademarked 'British' humour for the Yanks), but there are a few changes that actually work. Stephen Fry's Dietrich is virtually unrecognisable as the character from Moore's book, Dascombe, upon which it is based  but does, as a gay man masking a liberal outlook within a totalitarian regime, serve as a potent all-too-human counterpoint to our mask-wearing 'hero'. Portman's Evey is also a million miles removed from her source-character, but her screen persona is less successful than Fry's  a shame, as she could have probably made interesting work of that more ordinary, desperate Evey. For all the many changes I'm glad to say that the touching Valerie sub-plot survives intact.
Tim Piggot-Smith enjoys a fine return thuggish form, and John Hurt overacts his wrinkly little head off as the Chancellor. Steven Rea is excellent as the dogged, sad detective Finch  probably the most loyal transfer of character from page to screen.
Visually it has it's moments, and it is very stylish  as one would expect from the Wachowski Bros and Joel Silver - but very few of them are truly cinematic  save, perhaps, for the final Tchaikovsky accompanied scenes of Parliament, which was genuinely impressive.
I was prepared to hate this film with a fiery passion, but didn't. It wasn't  to use what the scriptwriters seem to think is the only British expletive  'b*ll*cks', but it has no real excuse for not being considerably better, given that so many of the plot changes were so unnecessary. It's the best adaptation, thus far, of any Alan Moore subject  though given how bad 'League of Extraordinary Gentlemen' and 'From Hell' were, that's not saying much. That said, it is seriously flawed, and most of those flaws arise out of a basic misunderstanding of the nature of the central character.