Cautious optimism

Rumour has it that a film director has finally managed to deliver a decent big screen adaptation of an Alan Moore comic book. James Wolcott has been to see V for Vendetta:

If it seems as if I’m darting around V for Vendetta rather than zeroing in on what I liked/didn’t like, grading the performances, and pointing-out-subtle-details-to-prove-how-observant-I-am, it’s because I don’t want to give away too much of the movie, leaving that job to A. O. Scott and his fellow divulgers. To say that I found the domino montage as thrilling a coup de cinema as I’ve seen since DePalma first displayed his slashing mastery of crosscutting is to sound cryptic, but to be unelliptical I’d have to explain too much and wreck your fun. And make no mistake V for Vendetta is fun, dangerous fun, percussive with brutality and laced with ironic ambiguity and satirical slapstick (a Benny Hill homage, no less!). But gives the movie its rebel power is the moral seriousnessthat drives the action, emotion, and allegory. That’s what I didn’t expect from the Wachowski brothers (The Matrix), this angry, summoning Tom Paine moral dispatch that puts our pundits, politicians, and cable news hosts to shame. V for Vendetta instills force into the very essence of four-letter words like hate, love, and (especially) fear, and releases that force like a fist. Off come the masks, and the faces are revealed.

Sounds promising.

Then there’s Adi Tantimedh’s favourable review at Comic Book Resources:

The performances by the actors are impeccable. I thought Natalie Portman’s accent started out too posh and awkward, but she eased into it as the movie progressed. The scene where she finally breaks down is the most difficult scene any actress could ever be given and it’s here that Portman shows the true depth of her talent and craft, being every bit as wrenching as the book. And it’s always fun to watch renowned British character actors chew the scenery as if it was a lavish banquet, and dependable actors like Tim Pigott-Smith, John Hurt and Rupert Graves are well-cast in supporting roles. Stephen Fry has a sad dignity as a sympathetic TV talkshow host harboring secrets of his own, who becomes inspired by V to take some action, and pays the ultimate price. Hugo Weaving is perfect as the verbose and theatrical V, relishing language as he trips complex Shakespearean speeches off his tongue, acting behing a mask through the entire movie, and his face is never shown.

Could it be…?

[James Wolcott review via rc3.org; Comic Book Resources review via FinderWolf, posting at Barbelith Underground]