In V for Vendetta, Alan Moore and David Lloyd envision a
fascist takeover of England following the devastation of nuclear war. The Norsefire
party, composed of “all the fascist groups, the right-wingers…together with
some of the big corporations that had survived” (28) used their power to
“resettled” people of color, homosexuals, and “all the radicals” (28). Mr.
Susan, ‘The Leader”, heads a vast surveillance state which controls the people
through fear of state-sanctioned violence.
We are introduced into this Moore and Lloyd’s imagined world
first through the eyes of Evey Hammond, who is about to be murdered by sinister
fingermen (the secret police force) when a masked and cloaked figure called “V”
kills her assailants and proceeds to blow up the House of Parliament. The first
part of the novel follows V as he exacts his revenge on various member and
associates of the government for their contribution to his imprisonment at the
Larkhill Resettlement Camp, where he was the subject of scientific
experimentation (of which he was the sole surviving prisoner). The murders he
commits destabilize the hierarchy of the government. V states that he acts to
bring about anarchy and freedom, without which he does not believe there can be
justice. As he tries to instill his values in Evey, she insists that, while she
agrees with his assessment of the Norsefire regime, she does not condone V’s penchant
for murder and violence. As the government begins to collapse, Evey is
apparently kidnapped by. Believing she is going to die in her cell, she reads a
letter left by a previous inmate, describing her imprisonment on the basis of
her homosexuality, and her resolve that her life is not as important as her
integrity. Evey decides to die rather than reveal V’s location. When she exits
a door, presumably to where she will be killed, she finds V—her imprisonment
was staged to teach her the value of one’s beliefs over one’s physical
existence. When V is killed, Evey dons his costume and identifies herself as V.
She addresses the people of England, calling for them to take control of their
lives and reject their oppressors. As she completes V’s final attack on the
architectural symbols of Norsefire’s power (his “Viking funeral” destroying
Downing Street), she contemplates the new world that will emerge, and the legacy left to her.
Alan Moore, a self-described anarchist, uses V for Vendetta
to discuss the nature of fascism and anarchism, the former being the utmost
evil and the latter being the moral ideal. In the characters V and Evey, he
shows two very different modes of political action, conscious of the gains made
by V through violence (and the ideology of Guy Fawkes), while ultimately
sanctioning Evey’s view of a society in which people can exercise their
freedom, independent of (state) violence or coercion.
Moore’s presentation of fascism shows the far-reaching
effects of such a state on individuals—materially, morally, mentally and
socially. There is no “good fascist” in this story. Sympathetic characters
connected to Norsefire, such as Mrs. Almond and Mr. Finch, are themselves
victims on the State on different levels. In presenting the anarchist side,
Moore explores the justification for an anarchist system as well it’s
interpretations in practice. V, while clearly the “good guy” in comparison to
The Leader or his associates, is not given a free pass. Moore sees that active
critique of V, and engagement with the ideas is preferable over blindly
following him because he is the “hero.” In this way, the authority of Norsefire
is not merely substituted for another invincible power; the idea of a hierarchy is rejected
altogether.
The integration of the words and pictures in this graphic novel
is staggering. There is no place where either word or image seems superfluous
or out of place. In the article “behind the Painted Smile”, Moore discusses his
collaboration with David Lloyd. It was Lloyd, in fact, who imagined the Guy
Fawkes mask for the mysterious V, telling Moore “it would give Guy Fawkes the
image he’s deserved all these years” (274). This sort of ideological synergy is
rather unique; Moore notes that Lloyd “combines a remorseless professionalism
with a deep emotional involvement in the strip equal to my own” (277). The grim
world the characters face is actualized into the visual realm. I found it
interesting that in key areas of the images, outlines are stripped away. In
this panel, the black outline of Mr. Almond’s face one might expect in a comic
is deliberately left out (except for areas in shadow). His handgun, the threat
of violence, however, is left concrete.
Moore notes crucial guidelines Lloyd placed on the work,
including (unusually) “the absolute banning of sound effects, and, as an
afterthought, the utter eradication of thought balloons” (275). This remarkable
suggestion shows crucial features of the world he imagines. What use is drawing
attention to a fired gun, an exploded building to a people at the mercy of the
Fingermen? Such outbursts would be unremarkable in such a society. In such a
profoundly invasive surveillance state, who has the luxury of private thought?
Lloyd’s
masterful inking deserves mention here. Moore writes Evey’s inner monologue as
she is imprisoned, tortured, and starved (by V, as part of her “education”).
The images of Evey in this section of the comic are actually painful to look
at, and encapsulate the gravity of her situation. It wouldn’t even be
appropriate to say that Lloyd’s work enhances the effect of the text. The two
operate in tandem. The artwork is far more realistic than cartoon-like. As
demonstrated in the panel below, Lloyd’s inking technique succeeds in
accentuating a sunken face, a torso of sinew and sharp bone. Moore’s script for
these sections is emotionally charged as well, making the combination of the
two extremely powerful.
Another example of Lloyd’s inking, showing how intensely
dark the artwork can get, while still being richly descriptive and emotive (from page 262, Evey is watching the train carrying V's corpse explode under Downing Street):
McCloud’s description
of masking is not strictly in play in this graphic novel, as the artist’s
presentation characters are by no means simplified in reference to the
background. Yet paradoxically, V is the ultimate
exercise in masking, both literally and figuratively. His face concealed; he
could be anyone. Mortally wounded by Mr. Finch, V claims that he will not die:
“There is no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There’s only an idea.
Ideas are bulletproof” (236). Characters and their distinguishing features are blurred and used to represent not the reader,
but ideology. V is to represent anarchism (and at the same time, as the title
suggests, revenge). Evey, though she (donning V’s costume after his death) explicitly
identifies herself/V as anarchism incarnate (258), is visually meant to invoke
the returning spirit of justice, which was absent under both fascism and V’s
violent opposition. The lack of thought bubbles helps to solidify these characters as the ideals they are meant to represent. These two images came from page 257 and page 40,
respectively, revealing the great continuity of imagery and artistic
consciousness throughout the work; the image of Evey as Justice triumphant
could only emerge out of this exquisite partnership.
The list of other comics written by Alan Moore includes Watchmen, From Hell, The League of
Extraordinary Gentlemen, and many others. David Lloyd worked on various
comics before and after V for Vendetta.
One comic illustrated by Lloyd, Night
Raven, used similar imagery and dark atmosphere to V for Vendetta. Both Moore and Lloyd now contribute to Occupy Comics, an anthology of comics
based on the Occupy Wall Street Movement.
In Comic Book Nation,
Bradford W. Wright comments on Moore’s Watchmen
series, noting Moore’s warning against putting too much trust in authority
figures or political leaders (Wright, 273). This same theme is explicit in V for Vendetta. Moore himself has been
vocal about the issues surrounding the rights to his comics—an unfortunately
reoccurring issue in the history of comics, as we have all learned. Due to a
misleading contract (and a naïve trust that the publisher was doing right by
them), DC comics retains the rights to V
for Vendetta. This has led Moore to criticize the film adaptations of his
work, refusing to let his name be attached to these projects. This unfortunate
tradition of artist’s exploitation and the difficulties in maintaining
possession of one’s intellectual property continues today. The result of these film ventures, however, is an
increased presence and consideration of Moore’s work in popular culture and
political circles, even outside of a comic-reading audience. The widespread
recognition of V for Vendetta and the
influence it has had on its audiences reserve Moore and Lloyd’s work an important
place in the history of comics.
what a fine review! You've grasped the larger themes and ideas running throughout Moore's writing and beautifully illustrated how Lloyd brings those concepts to life in his evocative artwork. This book and "Watchmen" are almost yin and yang, revealing similarities yes, but also different views on the morality and potential harm/benefit of violent action in response to the powerful forces that control our lives.
ReplyDeleteI am curious if Evey annoyed you. She definitely got on my nerves a little bit. I don't know if this is because she was constantly a victim in the beginning or the Stockholm Syndrome. Even towards the end when she was being empowered, I was still tired of her character. Why is her character not strong enough to stand on its own? Why does she have to fill the void left by V by becoming V? She is not her own person, just a follower until the end.
ReplyDeleteFor most of the comic, I was rather conflicted about Evey. Introducing her as a victim seemed problematic to me; it created a power imbalance between the two protagonists. But while she is definitely a follower of V, she pushes back against his violent actions and questions his decisions. She recognizes that she is indebted to him for saving her life, but is still wary of him.
ReplyDeleteThere's a habit of revolutionary figures throughout history to presume that political change must be led by a select group of individuals who will drag the public along for the ride whether they understand what's going on or not (for example, Leninism). V sort of has a warped response to this, making sure that Evey understands his philosophy by any means necessary. While accepting anarchism, she still does not buy into his methods.
There is a wonderful moment, p.176-177, where V offers to kill the man who killed Gordon, she would only need to pluck a rose as a sign of her agreement. Regarding the rose for a moment, in light of everything she has learned from V, she tells him: "let it grow."
Evey criticized V, but ultimately agreed with his longterm goals. By wearing his mask, she's sanctioning anarchism as a political philosophy. Using V's costume is a little strange, but still, that's the face England recognizes as freeing them from Norsefire. For V to tell people to take control of their lives and embrace freedom has more weight than if a new character "E" suddenly emerged. It's not ideal from a feminist perspective, but I think Moore tries with his female characters (especially Every, Mrs. Almond, and even Mrs. Heyer) to show the vulnerability of their second class status. I would say that by the end of the comic, Evey does become her own person, with ownership of the V mantle being a useful tool in asserting her individuality, without subverting it. (To draw a "Watchmen" parallel, Dan Dreiberg is the also second Nite Owl, but this does not lessen his ability to voice his opinions and make his own decisions, independent of Hollis Mason).
A big part of what I like about "V for Vendetta" is its disavowal of received knowledge. Moore and Lloyd want the reader to think critically about the material they present, and I believe the ambiguous, multi-faceted nature of Evey Hammond and the reactions she justifiably provokes were intentional.