The end credits to V For Vendetta reveal one glaring omission:
Based on the Graphic Novel by David Lloyd.
While Mr. Lloyd did indeed draw the fantastically lurid panels of one of the most infamous works of the Eighties “graphic novel” boom, his was only one of the minds behind it. Where the hell is Alan Moore's credit?

Sadly, it seems Mr. Moore has the peculiar habit of demanding that his name be removed from any further film adaptation of his works. Basically, he feels that the adaptations thus far has been completely atrocious, and that any further attempts will simply fail like their predecessors. While I can only partially agree with his sentiments (League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, or LXG as Fox so hiply coined it, was virtually unwatchable), I can still sympathize with the man's frustrations. Moore, for those unfamiliar with his work, is certainly more prosaic than many other comic writers out there. Pages of his books are practically swimming in text-boxes full of descriptions, narrations, character thoughts, and dialogue. There are very few “bams” or “pows” to be found in them, let alone two-page actions shots or speed lines. These truly are graphic novels, folks.

Which leads to the inherent problem with adapting his work: how can you directly translate V For Vendetta, his nearly 400-page opus, into a slim two-hour film?

Answer: You can't.

What you can do, and The Wachowski Brothers did, is trim away most of Moore's wordier pieces, leaving behind the spirit of the film to be rebuilt with some scraps of the original work to glue together a new monster for cinematic consumption. The tune may be changed, but the song remains essentially the same.

...and I'll be damned, it works.

The plot remains fairly faithful to the comic: Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman) is saved from a brutal rape by the enigmatic V (Hugo Weaving), a Guy Fawkes-masked revolutionary with a bone to pick with the fascist government that rules over a futuristic Britain with an iron fist. Starting on November 5th (the anniversary of Guy Fawkes' attempt to blow up Parliament), V begins his systematic breakdown of the government, assassinating key figures, destroying monuments, and overtaking the heavily-censored airwaves in order to spark an uprising in the people of England. All the while, Evey finds herself more and more drawn to V, and the ideals he represents.

To give away more would be criminal, as the joy of V For Vendetta is in its myriad twists and turns. However, despite following the comic plot rather closely, there is certainly heavy abridging that needed to happen in order to make it work. Sadly, this leads to many of Moore's delightfully fleshy characters being omitted or trimmed down into more two-dimensional versions. Some of the more subtle nuances that were in the original book are missing as well. The off-hand reference that Beethoven's Fifth, played during one of V's murders, itself at times spells out the letter V in Morse code, or the more poetic fates of V's victims are lost in translation. However, there are other scenes, such as the death of Dr. Surridge, or the reading of her damning journal, that were astoundingly spot-on. Again, the Wachowski Brothers deserve credit for keeping the movie fairly accurate in tone and themes, even if they did have to chisel down the story to make it work in a two hour frame.

Who deserves the most credit, however, is Hugo Weaving. Despite spending the entire movie behind a mask, his performance as V was a knockout, especially his exceptionally silly letter-V alliterative monologue. Natalie Portman, on the other hand, seemed strongest when she had no dialogue, as her reacting skills were admirable (she really did seem traumatized in the much-hyped head shaving scene), but when she spoke, letting out one of the most uncomfortable British accents I've heard, the illusion was sadly shattered. Direction by James McTeigue, whose previous credits include assistant director duties on everything from Street Fighter (snicker) to The Matrix Trilogy, was certainly better than I expected. Certain scenes, again, looked practically storyboarded from the comic page, and he certainly had the talents to frame more calm scenes with the subtlety that other action directors like Michael Bay sorely lack.

Comparing the movie V For Vendetta to the graphic novel is a bit unfair in the end. Compared to the beautiful poetry of Moore's writing, the celluloid version comes across almost like a dirty limerick. However, dirty limericks can certainly be witty and fun, and the movie is just that. While the flesh may have been stripped from its bones, the soul is still there, and that's what matters most.