Alan Moore’s work has a terrible track record of adaptations to screen. The one light in that entire time was Roman Polanski’s 1990 adaptation of V for Vendetta, simply called Vendetta. Of course, this is the only adaptation in which Alan Moore had express involvement in (along with David Lloyd, both of them spent several days on set), only to battle with Polanski over what he excised. Moore has said he never watched the final product, which is a shame.   Despite Moore’s recent remarks that Nic Roeg would have been the only director who could have done it justice, it’s the only adaptation of his work that really understood the intent of the original text. In fact, it might contend for one of Polanski’s most personal works.

The film, shot in some of the same sets used for Michael Radford’s film of 1984 (something Moore was excited by) and abandoned homes in Wolverhampton, is quite visually stark. The bombing sequences in London were done with miniatures, and aside from some of the death scenes, are the only special effects in the film. It’s a very minimalist film, taking place mostly in conversations. The superhero aspects are almost entirely gone.

Polanski was quite brutal with his edits of the comic, only three or four scenes surviving from the original work – the key sequences being the Valerie story and V’s death. Almost everything else is from new cloth, only the characters remaining. Polanski wisely cast almost entirely British unknowns and theater actors in V. The only “stars” appearing are Johanna ter Steege as Evey (who filmed this back to back with Altman’s Vincent and Theo, apparently delaying the first ten days of shooting) and Frank Langella as Adam Susan. The titular character of V was played by a mime, with Polanski doing an uncredited turn as the character’s disembodied voice. Steege’s role here was reportedly what got Kubrick’s attention for his unfilmed The Aryan Papers, and it’s hard not to see what he saw in her. Her performance is arresting and powerful, matching the intensity of Lloyd’s images.

The concentration camp sequences of the novel may have been too familiar for Polanski, all of the sequences involving V’s origin have been left out. The camps are only alluded to in conversation, and yet the film is clearly about the aftermath of a level of atrocity that can’t be filmed the way it demands. The sequence with the priest has also been left out, and both of these choices have been heavily read into by Polanski’s critics. Rumor has it that Moore thought the priest’s death was essential, and it has been said it was in the shooting script and scrapped on the day.

Considering the the story makes a hero out of what is essentially a serial killer and a terrorist, Polanski doesn’t necessarily fall down on the side of V, even though at the time reviews all blatantly claimed that he identified as the character. Roger Ebert even went as far as saying that Polanski was excusing V’s actions because he was a survivor of horror, heavily intimating that he was pleading for defense. Tone-wise Polanski wisely, plays the film as a politicized thriller, sticking close the philosophy of the original. The anarchic ideals V speaks about are held close by Polanski, who films it using the same nightmare logic that drifts through Rosemary’s Baby and moreso the Tenant. The twisted, nasty sequence with the dolls recalls the scene with the mummy staring out from the bathroom, with the actor playing Prothero sitting frozen with fear as he watches the impossible happen.

Polanski’s bravest choice may have been how he stages the Valerie sequence as a dream, with Steege playing the sequence out herself. After the opening ten minutes spent with Evey, every moment after V first appears takes on the feel of a fever dream. Polanski has a gift for making his images hallucinatory without ever veering into surrealism. His films always make a kind of uneasy sense without ever feeling druggy. Ennio Morricone’s score is the only flat-out failed aspect of the film, the most lackluster of his post-Untouchables scores. Wisely all of the films most important moments are played out in silence.

The final, sick moments after V’s death are the most intense of the film. After an hour and a half in which Evey never smiles, Steege cracks one of the most terrifying grins ever captured to film. Polanski understands the scene could be played for horror as much as it could be heroic. It’s stunning that anyone could view Polanski as sympathetic, because this scene is so ambiguous. When I watch it, it’s like a monster being born. The few moments after it, of Evey in the V costume on the loudspeaker are perfucntory. The smile is the real climax.

I always preferred Polanski’s horror films.

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(Ok, that’s the last one of these. I’m done. Real column will be up later this week.)