V for Vendetta

Comic book narratives, at least of the super-hero type, make up in operatic spectacle what they lack in depth. There’s a formulaic, ritualistic quality to them, as super-heroes go through the motions of defeating their foes, in episode after episode. In recent years comic book artists and writers have mixed up the formula. Modern super heroes are afflicted with angst and self-doubt (they have issues) and are more complex. Some even die. But in the new world of the comic book narrative, heralded by some as a new literature, the pantomime, the masque, is still often there.

This is certainly the case with V for Vendetta, based on the comic book novel of the same name. This film has a highly ritualistic quality, and from an early point you sense how it is going to end. Even the main character V forecasts the ending, and some of the tension in the film (there isn’t much) comes from uncertainty as to whether things will play out as he suggests.

What is most interesting to me about this film is the parallel it establishes between contemporary America and Britain (mainly America) and the futuristic world of London in 2026 or whatever year the film takes place. The film’s world is the literal successor of the world we live in today: religious zealots who hate homosexuals and free thought take over after a horrible plague kills more than a hundred thousand people. It turns out the plague was cooked up by the dictator himself, Chancellor Adam Sutler, played by John Hurt in a one-note performance of anger and noise—he never stops shouting. He uses the plague, caused by a virus developed under his supervision, to terrorize the populace into electing him as leader. The film’s fear of religious extremism on the one hand and genetic engineering on the other is not entirely coherent, but no matter.

In V for Vendetta governments terrorize citizens into believing that they need governments to protect them (a point particularly pertinent to our present situation and the War on Terrorism). The film suggests that by blowing up Parliament and other buildings, thereby removing the government that terrorizes and oppresses, oppression and repression can be defeated. It does not suggest what fills the void after governments disappear, and in fact by celebrating the masked hero V, who admits that he is a monster, it suggests that one bad government may replace another. By having V die in one of the final scenes, the film avoids confronting this point, but the contradiction is still there.

V is another version of Batman, a superhero traumatized by a painful childhood experience. In V’s case, he suffered as a youth in a secret science laboratory, just as Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman), was traumatized by the murder of her parents by the oppressive government, and her brother’s death in the viral epidemic. Given the mask V wears, the connections to the Phantom of the Opera are obvious as well.

There is much spectacle in V for Vendetta, but it needs even more. V himself is the center of the film, but after the novelty wears off, there is not much for him to do but feel sorry for himself (he really does feel sorry for himself, and he does not act out of noble motives--he’s more intent on exacting revenge than on removing an oppressive government). He never appears without his mask. The film suggests that his face has been horribly scarred, or even that he doesn’t have a face. Because of the mask he shows no facial expression, little emotion (even in the tone of his voice), and this limits what Hugo Weaving, who plays V, can do with the character. The one time he does show emotion comes when Evey, whom he has fallen in love with, leaves him, and he throws his mask to the floor, shattering it (we still don’t see his face). At first he comes on the scene as an enigmatic, mysterious superhero, but ultimately he becomes too self-absorbed, a tiresome and one-dimensional posturer. His philosophical musings go nowhere.

I enjoyed V for Vendetta but would have liked less talking and more explosions.