V for Vendetta

Set in your basic fascist near-future (the British version), this big-budget sci-fi thingie stars Weaving (The Matrix’s Agent Smith) as V, an insurgent bomber waging a solo war against the jingoistic, homophobic dictatorship. Clad in a permanent Guy Fawkes costume, V rescues pretty young Evey (Portman) from a secret policeman intent on rape, then makes her watch as he blows up London’s Old Bailey courthouse. Since Evey now knows too much, he’s obliged to confine her in his posh subterranean lair for the duration.

Driven nuts by V’s endless pseudo-Shakespearian blather, Evey escapes and takes refuge with her closeted gay boss (Fry). Meanwhile a dogged but decent police detective (Rea) hunts both V and Evey, but finds instead your garden-variety conspiracy-leading-to-the-highest-levels-of-government.

Adapted from Alan Moore’s graphic novel by the Wachow-ski brothers, Vendetta does for revolutionary politics what the Matrix franchise did for philosophy, which is to say that a depressing number of rubes will probably mistake it for a work of substance. (The film’s real lesson is that infinite resources are a freedom fighter’s best friend, especially when you have to send fancy masks and capes to the entire populace of England. By courier.)

Granted, Vendetta has production values out the wazoo and contains some fine explosions, knife fights, etc. But it’s also slow, talky and easily 40 minutes too long.—Cliff Doerksen