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![]() V., v. angry The Brothers W. roar back with "V for Vendetta"
The movies have changed in the past couple of decades, but what
frightens me more in my line of work is how movie reviewing has become a
different game, one that seems to have shifted to how a writer can put
the reader and potential viewer in their place and discourage any
disagreement with the Olympian voice before you.
Longtime New Yorker editor William Shawn supposedly said that a good
review offers voice and viewpoint but also enough information that you
would feel like you'd learned enough about the movie to feel comfortable
participating in a dinner-table conversation about the work at hand.
While working to digest "V from Vendetta" from a distance of only
twelve hours or so, I pick up the august David Denby's review in the
March 20 issue of the New Yorker: "`V for Vendetta,' a dunderheaded pop
fantasia that celebrates terrorism and destruction, is perhaps the
ultimate example of how a project with modest origins becomes a media
monster." Do you want to see a movie after reading a lead like that? Do
you want to finish the review or change the subject over drinks?
Turn on cable TV: on MSNBC, the president of the censorious,
archconservative Family Research Council named Tony Perkins says that
Wisconsin Senator Russell Feingold's call for the censure of President
Bush for openly admitting to breaking laws against spying on American
citizens is "borderline treasonous behavior." The two forms of
discourse--Denby's and the cable-typical Perkins'--seem the same:
hectoring, browbeating, superior rants. If you support this movie, as
filmmaker Eugene Jarecki told me of Denby's review of his film, "Why We
Fight," "the way Mr. Denby would see the world, you're either with
him or you're with the terrorists."
"V for Vendetta" is a discursive, morally ambiguous provocation
filled with calls to political resistance, adapted by the Wachowski
brothers from the 1981 graphic novel written by Alan Moore (who now
removes his name from all derivative works he doesn't control); the
Chicago-bred Wachowskis produce but their "Matrix" assistant director
James McTeigue directs. In 2020 London, after several hundred thousand
die from apparent bio-terrorism, and a combination of plagues and civil
war wreck the U.S., U.K. power has been consolidated in the military at
the hands of an isolated leader with pupils Belladonna-wide (John Hurt).
Propaganda is dispensed via television, largely through the government
network's shill who looks like Christopher Hitchens and brays like Bill
O'Reilly. A man, known as V (Hugo Weaving, bobbing behind an unchanging
mask), brutally scarred in the experiments years earlier, bombs
historical targets in the now-drab, locked-down London, encouraging the
citizenry to react. Rescuing Evie (Natalie Portman), a young woman whose
parents were political activists, from the government, V enlists her in
his violent cause.
"This is for your protection" is a refrain, as if the populace were
being told "Thank you for cowering" for their "silent, obedient
consent." The script is dense with terse parodies of authoritarian
mollycoddle, kitted out in London's most familiar typeface, Gill Sans.
The script also talks about "truncheons used in lieu of conversation,"
as if anticipating the rancor that "V for Vendetta" has already met.
Can movies make metaphor of dangerous subjects? May they, please? Is art
the province of social criticism? Can pop burst the edicts of aging
panjandrums? Only a couple weeks back, the equally hidebound David
Thomson was suggesting that "Good Night, and Good Luck" was worthless
for daring to suggest parallels between the 1950s and today, but having
the "courage" to come out and be bluntly didactic. Can the old white
men make up their minds?
The mullah-like line of reasoning insists that investigating the
psychology of terror via art is to be disdained, castigated, belittled.
("Artists use lies to tell the truth" is another blunt refrain in
"V.") It's the line of the foils in the movie, ensconced reprobates,
adepts at a practiced sort of piety too familiar in twenty-first-century
affairs. Yes, "V for Vendetta" alludes to crimes outside the confines
of fiction, to the boundless reaches of human mischief, and its
terrorist protagonist's invocation that the fictional dystopia "needs
more than a building right now--It needs hope" could readily be
deciphered as a "defense" of 9/11. Other allusions suggest that
governments often perpetrate atrocities against their own citizenry,
while "the sanctity of information is paramount in these times."
(Plus, among the cross-hatching of reference, there's a Benny Hill
homage; a viscous battle of murderous dispatch done up with knives and
splatter like Takeshi Kitano's in his "Zatoichi"; a paraphrase of Emma
Goldman's scorn toward any "revolution" that disallows dancing; and at
one sweet, odd moment of uplift, V is lost in swoon before a jukebox to
Cat Power's cover of Lou Reed's "I Found A Reason").
It's only a movie, it's only a movie, it's a popcorn flick,
right? Movies are an escape from terrible realities, yes? Please advise.
Filmmakers and artists of all stripes are patiently awaiting your
instruction before proceeding. "V for Vendetta" opens Friday.
Also by Ray Pride Ten Going on Forty
Viva Africa
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Union Label
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Why "Why We Fight"
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Lonesome Crackhead
Humanism's face
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Suddenly Sundance
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