V for lots of words that start with V

Ok, we'll just admit up front: we killed your puppy. No, it's worse. We didn't really... well, ok, we didn't like The Matrix. Even the first one. There, we've said it. So we weren't exactly jonesing for a new Wachowski Brothers joint. We do, however, like Alan Moore, and we like when movies try to be subversive, so off to see V for Vendetta we went last night. (Moore wrote the graphic novel on which the movie's based, but he requested that his name not be associated with the film). We took it in at the Cinerama, where we joined a host of folks that most clearly trust Los Hermanos Wachowski. Black clothing and skull imagery and general hip geekiness and geeky hipness abounded. They cheered and sqeeed their way through most of the summer blockbuster sequel previews: lots of love for X-Men: The Last Stand (not surprising given the crowd), almost as much love for Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest (a little surprising, no?), and even some busses for ol' Tom and MI:III (really? Tom? Still?). Though no applause for Superman--people seem to be withholding judgment on that one.

Sooo... we don't know how we'll feel about it a week from now, once we've had time to think and chat about it. But walking out of that theater we were darned excited by it. Moved, even. It's thought-provoking, but sort of sneakily so because it's such fun. It skillfully speeds you past anything that might otherwise raise your normally cynical eyebrows, like, say, Natalie Portman's atrocious British accent, or the fact that she's surprisingly untroubled at having her entire life effectively erased a time or two, and, well, how darn clean everything is. The story is, dare we say, almost Hitchcockian at manipulating your sympathies. We kept thinking there were a lot more layers to it than we were taking in, but then we'd think, ah, we'll think about that later, this is too much fun, and then we'd go, wait, isn't that what the movie is saying not to do? And then, oo, look at that! Yeah, get him! Oo, such good talking, too! Shakespeare! Art! Ass-kicking! Then, hey, wait a minute... And repeat. We did manage to pause occasionally to admire most of the performances, especially Stephen Rea as the dogged Inspector, John Hurt as a deliciously hateful dictator, and Hugo Weaving, who gave an impressively nuanced performance entirely behind a mask. (Good show, Agent Elrond Smith.) But then right back to "ooo!"

In short, this is the first move in a while that we really recommend seeing in the theater, and soon. Especially at the Cinerama, where you'll be good and surrounded by the spectacle.