It’s been long enough since this movie came out that those of you who were going to see this movie have probably already seen it, and have probably read enough conflicting and politically charged reviews of the film to have formed your own opinion on it. You know the basic plot: a terrorist known only as “V” challenges a fascist government in mid 2000’s Britain. The question over whether V’s terrorism is justified and qualifies as “patriotism” has been a focus of many of the reviews of the film. The movie certainly has, among critics anyway, sparked a national debate over the definition of terrorism.

Having read the book and gone to the movie expecting a relatively faithful adaptation, if only in theme, of the graphic novel, I am going to address in this review how the film falls short in its realization of the visions of artist David Lloyd and famed writer Alan Moore — how the conventions of Hollywood ruined what could have been a daring masterpiece. Ironically, the critics caught up in the national debate about the questions the movie professes to raise have yet to realize that the film does not even adequately raise them, that they are addressing the subject better than the film ever does. First, a little information on the book, a must-read for anyone who likes comics and a strongly suggested read even for those who don’t read comics.

In the early 1980s, England was, in the eyes of many of its citizens, suffering under the conservative regime of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, who at one point was publicly speaking of outlawing homosexuality. One of these unsatisfied Brits was a young comic writer named Alan Moore, working at the UK’s version of DC comics at the time. Politically an anarchist, Moore teamed up with artist David Lloyd for the next several years on a series called “V For Vendetta,” which concerned a hero in a Guy Fawkes mask terrorizing the fascist government in Britain circa 1997. As the series went on, Moore’s writing and plotting became more and more complex and his characters (both “bad” and “good”) more and more three-dimensional, building into a satisfying, nearly airtight, and practically flawless climax that the hacks the Wachowski brothers turned out to be will never be able to pull off (may I refer you to Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions?), and certainly do not here.

When, toward the end of the book, V symbolically tips over a giant domino “V” he has made, it is because he has actually set a series of events into action that will mean the end of the totalitarian state in England. When, in the end of the film, V does the same thing with a much more elaborate set of dominoes, it means practically nothing, as the film is lacking the complexity of the books. V has done nothing overly clever in the end of the film; the only manipulation he has used is equivalent to a lowly mobster threat.

More importantly, though, than the film’s lack of complexity, is the lack of the book’s anarchic themes. V’s symbol is obviously the “Anarchy” symbol turned upside-down, but you won’t hear the man preaching anything about the high ideals of anarchy in James McTeigue’s movie. How does V lean politically? We never know. We certainly know he doesn’t like the current political system, but gone is his speech to the Old Bailey, the statue of justice in London. Gone is his preaching to Evey, the young girl he rescues from “Fingermen” (police officers), about the ideals of anarchy. The Wachowskis make damn sure to explain the Fawkesian mask and story to the American audiences, but what of V’s more specific ideals? They are, like most of the subplots, missing.

I recognize that one can never expect a film to be exactly like the book. Since films began, the movie industry has been making literary adaptations that change so much from the book as to be nearly unrecognizable. Hitchcock did it. Hawkes did it. It happens. But in the case of V For Vendetta, the change comes about as an attempt to water down the more abrasive themes in the book. Afraid to portray V as a psychopathic maniac, as he is in the book, they introduce a love subplot that unnecessarily humanizes him. Afraid to make Natalie Portman a street girl, they give Evey a good life and a good job. Afraid to focus on a character and story that advocates anarchy, they reduce the theme to a quick Sex Pistols reference that makes the audience laugh. The movie is not a complete failure — it is certainly more daring than most action films, and what action it has is exciting — but trust me, you’d be better off reading the book.