V For Vendetta

In an alterative time line, Britain has become a totalitarian fascist state. A state-controlled media spews out news stories based on fear at a cowed population. Between panicked headlines, a secret police force makes potential dissenters disappear. Suddenly, V, a masked freedom fighter blows up the Old Bailey and demands that the people take to the streets.
Adapted from Alan Moore’s graphic novel by the brothers Wachowski, V For Vendetta is a heavily flawed affair. Much of the action is confined to office spaces, where Stephen Rea, a lone decent cop, attempts to investigate V’s origins. A crucial beauty and the beast subplot, involving Hugo Weaving’s antihero and Natalie Portman, simply doesn’t work. And realms of dialogue are frequently exchanged with little accompaniment in terms of onscreen action.
That said, this is fascinating, challenging cinema. The Wachowski’s, last seen weighing down screenplays with a brief history of all philosophical thought, have retained the lefty, anti-Thatcher discontent of their source while embellishing with any number of radical, post-9/11 treaties.
As the government branded terrorist takes to the airwaves to urge people to take to the streets, one is reasonably inclined to take the call to arms literally. That can only be a good thing, can’t it?