In the realm of contemporary popular art, few media may claim such relevance and understanding of mass culture than the cinema. From political discourses in films such as Argo (Affleck, 2012) and The Hurt Locker (Bigelow, 2009), to philosophical inquiry in films such as Her (Jonze, 2013) and Children of Men (Cuaron, 2007), the filmic medium has never failed to be an avenue for human questions that deal with the most intimate nature of our species. In this regard, James McTeigue’s 2006 film V for Vendetta – as well as the graphic novel of the same name that it is based on – is one of the more notable instances of filmic inquiry into political and philosophical discourse. As a cinematic enterprise, V for Vendetta was met with polarized reviews when it first came out in theaters. The film, based on the eponymous graphic novel by famed writer Alan Moore, drawn by David Lloyd, was praised for the acting (in particular that of Natalie Portman) as well as the plot. However, a more interesting discourse lies buried underneath the filmic techniques that McTeigue uses in its elaboration of Moore’s story. From the standpoint of political philosophy, the film is essentially an argument against two extremes of government – anarchism and fascism. In so doing, V for Vendetta raises questions about the middle ground by which current democratic society leans towards. Through the film’s visual iconography, the film thus provides mainstream cinema audiences with an effective introduction to the symbolic vocabulary of postmodern anarchism (Sage).
The plot of V for Vendetta follows a fairly straightforward trajectory. The background of the overall story, however, is quite complex. In 2027, the United Kingdom is ruled by a police state under the fascist Norsefire party. Oppression is widespread. Concentration camps are reserved for people that the government has deemed second-class citizens, among which are members of the LGBT community, Muslims, immigrants, and political dissidents. At the heart of the film is Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman), a media professional that works for the state-run television network. When she is rescued by a freedom fighter known only as V (Hugo Weaving), she begins to become disillusioned with the party system, and she eventually becomes a close associate of V. V, meanwhile, plots to destroy the House of Parliament in an effort to destabilize the Norsefire government. He gives the party a year to prepare for the attack – essentially the story time of the whole film. Within that time, V manages to stage Evey’s kidnapping, apparently at the hands of the Norsefire secret police. As a result, Evey overcomes her fears and moves from a moderate political viewpoint, to one that is extremely leftist. When V’s ultimatum expires on the eve of Guy Fawkes Night, it is, ultimately, Evey who sends a train laden with explosives into the heart of Parliament.
V for Vendetta offers a clever, insightful look at the rise of fascism. The fascist 'Norsefire' party takes advantage of the power vacuum which occurs as the liberal British state collapses in the aftermath of the nuclear war. Of course, this is what the contemporary corporate media often mistake for anarchy: social and political chaos, resulting from the sudden absence of an effective repressive state. There is a strong libertarian theme in V, and this is an important part of Moore’s late Cold War political critique: Moore finds Soviet-style state communism just as repugnant as the conservative Anglo-American capitalism with which it conspires to destroy the world.
Even in the opening scenes of the film, the political heart of the plot is immediately apparent. Taking a cue from Nazi Germany, the fictional Norsefire party is a political party with an evidently fascist slant. “Strength through unity; unity through faith” is its motto, propagated throughout the United Kingdom by an insidious mass media, and followed by all citizens for fear of government persecution. This fear is evident in the opening scene where Evey is nearly raped by the aptly-named “Fingermen” – the Norsefire secret police. As Brian L. Ott observes:
“In watching Evey terrorized, quite literally at the “hands” of government, the audience participates in her fear, a fear that is infused with disgust and revulsion by close-up shots of one Fingerman’s black-stained teeth and the unbuckling and dropping of his pants” (Ott, 2010).
Fear, too, from the fascist state, is what prompted Evey’s boss, Gordon Deitrich, to hide his homosexuality from the government. When she enters his house for help, he reveals to her a collection of materials deemed prohibited by the government. He also reveals that he conceals his homosexuality by assuming the identity of the ultra-conservative and ultra-loyalist mass media host seen throughout the film. Ultimately, however, it is his lack of fear that leads to his downfall. When he airs an episode on his program that is highly satirical of the Norsefire government, and of High Chancellor Adam Sutler (John Hurt) in particular, he is arrested by the Fingermen that same night, never to be seen again.
V is acutely aware of the power of fear in the operation of fascism. This quality is what gives him a particularly potent brand of justice-seeking. When V, having destroyed the Old Bailey, addresses the citizens of London, he states his belief that justice will continue to be elusive without genuine political freedom and with the Norsefire party governing the United Kingdom. He says to them:
“Fear got the best of you. And in your panic you turned to the now High Chancellor Adam Sutler. He promised you order and he promised you peace. And all he demanded in return was your silent obedient consent. Last night I started to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country what it has forgotten”.
Fear is, indeed, the fuel to the fascist fire. Consequently, the freedom from it is the secret to revolution. In the film, this is personified in Evey, who is transformed from a passive, apathetic citizen fearful of the repercussions of anti-government sentiment, into a freedom fighter in her own right. In the transformative scene when she is incarcerated in a secluded cell (apparently by the government, but is later revealed to be an elaborate set-up by V), she begins her ordeal as fragile and fearful. McTeigue emphasizes this by using shots of her grimacing as her long locks are shaved off, shouting in pain as she is bathed in hot water, and weeping with discomfort at the various torture sessions arranged for her. When, however, she finds an emotional biography written by a lesbian actress who had previously occupied her cell, she realizes that there is nothing left to fear. When V, disguised as a guard sent to take her to her execution, addresses her for the last time, the conversation goes:
V: “It’s time.”Evey: “I’m ready.”V: “Look, all they want is one little piece of information. Just give them something, anything.”E: “Thank you, but I’d rather die behind the chemical sheds.”V: “Then you have no fear anymore. You’re completely free.”
The film thus equates the lack of fear with freedom. Evey’s imprisonment is the transformative epoch that eliminates her refusal to revolt. Initially, she is understandably distraught at V’s machinations. However, she realizes her transformation from an apathetic citizen, into a full-fledged revolutionary, very much like V. V is dangerous because he is not a person but an idea. More precisely, V is a subversive system of signification. To state the problem in structuralist terms, V is a free floating signifier, the kind which refuses to become permanently attached to any signified. This is especially interesting, since in the classic structuralist model, the linguistic sign, was meant to be arbitrary, but the visual symbol was not (Call, 2008).
V for Vendetta may thus be seen as a political discourse on the usage of fear by fascist states. The political philosophy of Norsefire is centered on fear. By using the media, the party spreads fear and panic in order to instill authority over its citizens. As V notes:
“But in the end the true genius of the plan was the fear. Fear became the ultimate tool of this government, and through it our politician was elected into the positon of High Chancellor”.
Works Cited
Ott, Brian L. “The Visceral Politics of V for Vendetta: On Political Affect in Cinema”. Critical Studies in Media Communication 27(1), March 2010, pp. 39-54. Print.
Sage, James. “V for Vendetta and Political Philosophy: A Critique of Thomas Hobbes”. Unpublished article.
Call, L. (2008) “A is for Anarchy, V is for Vendetta: Images of Guy Fawkes and the Creation of Postmodern Anarchism” Anarchist Studies 16 (2). Print.
