Why is it that, weeks after my initial viewing of V
for Vendetta, I'm still thinking about the
always-smiling anti-hero whose horrific acts are
equaled only by his noble character?
I suppose I could say that such an obsession is
characteristic of letting views that differ from my
own enter my weak and fragile mind. But that answer
doesn't seem to satisfy me. Because I know that many
encounters with divergent views have been real
faith-strengtheners— either by solidifying my
current view or by bringing awareness of my current
misconception.
Before I travel further into this late night
cogitation, let's catch those of you who have yet to
be introduced to this Orwellian world up to speed. V
for Vendetta (rated R for strong violence and some
language) is based on the acclaimed graphic novel by
Alan Moore (though he's gone to great lengths to make
sure his name isn't attached to the project).
The story is set in London in the not-too-distant
future, where a totalitarian government controls its
citizens with an iron fist—all in the name of
protecting their liberties.
The character known as "V" decides that
he will play Robin Hood (if Robin Hood were to wear a
Guy Fawkes mask, and have heavy explosives and
impressive ninja skills), and that he will bring the
power back to the common people. In this pursuit of
liberation, he finds and liberates Evey, a regular
citizen being hassled by a group of frisky-fingered
policemen.
V takes Evey under his wing and works to gain her
trust in the fight against oppression. Obviously, this
story from the early ‘80s is a great opportunity for
someone to make comparisons with the current political
climate in America, and screenwriters/ producers Andy
and Larry Wachowsky (of Matrix fame) seem to take
advantage of that. Countless film critics have harped
on this aspect.
What intrigues me about V? I'd say his
self-perception. His good intentions. His dementia.
His inability to be dismissed as "just another
bad guy." V intrigues me, because V is the kind
of person I was sent into this world to meet. Christ
said it best to the Pharisees when he stated, "It
is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the
sick." (Matthew 9:12) V is definitely one sick
puppy.
And perhaps what echoes most after the film's end
is the collective cry of my Christian brethren who
feel morally obligated to warn against this
Hollywood-propelled attack on your sensibilities, or
the previous attack on your sensibilities, or the
sensibility-attack that is sure to come tomorrow.
I'm all for being informed prior to a questionable
experience, but is it healthy for a child of an
omniscient deity to live his or her life in paranoia,
coiled to strike those whose ideals are decidedly
different from our own? Is our battle against flesh
and blood? Are we called to avoid the world, Jerusalem
and all Judea and Samaria? Was the Son of God called
into the world to condemn the world?
If Christians are called to complete separation,
how are the tortured souls outside of our quarantined
quarters expected to not take the measures taken by V
(whose "Christian" government was anything
but)? Yes, God can touch those souls without the aid
of His children, but is that not a sign of laziness on
our part—of a complacency that attempts to cover our
own stagnancy?
These are questions I ask myself as I ponder the
three-dimensionality of V.
I've often scratched my head as to why I'm so
obsessed with homelessness—as to why I dream of
visiting insane asylums and death rows for extended
periods of time. In V lies the answer.
As a Christian, I can't help but be attracted to V.
No, it's not his eloquent speech (which is quite
literary and well-written). No, it's not his leftist
ideals. I'm attracted to his sickness—his being a
person who has really good intentions, but who doesn't
seem to grasp the whole picture. And I don't say this
as a putdown to merely feel superior over him. I say
this because V, a genuinely intelligent being capable
of good, is like many of my friends who need a Great
Physician, but who only find bumbling, medieval
apothecaries, all too eager to amputate limbs.
Christian philosopher Blaise Pascal once said,
"I do not admire the excess of some one virtue
unless I am shewn at the same time the excess of the
opposite virtue. A man does not prove his greatness by
standing at an extremity, but by touching both
extremities at once and filling all that lies between
them."
V for Vendetta is a wonderfully- crafted showcase
of extremities. As human beings, it will be tempting
for us to jump to the aid of the film's mistreated,
fictional government, or we may be just as tempted to
don a Guy Fawkes mask and fight for the cause of
anarchy.
My prayer is that we will have the wisdom and
discernment to find something in-between, and to reach
out to both extremes with compassion akin to Christ's.
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