The film was loud. So loud I felt my eardrums stop at least once or twice as the titular V (Hugo Weaving) throttled Beethoven’s 5th to coincide with another explosion. The potential was there; could a film make us empathise with the ‘terrorist’ (or freedom fighter depending on your leanings)? But V For Vendetta was dull. So dull, I found myself switching off and lingering to leave the theatre so I could watch Hirokazu Koreeda’s Nobody Knows, which I’d rented earlier in the evening. I’ll come to that wonderful, breathtaking film in a minute.

Like Alan Moore’s other graphic novels, V For Vendetta makes for interesting source material. His mastery over the medium is unparalleled, and his meticulous research is only outdone by his imaginative and thoughtful storytelling. Few writers can elegantly theorise the most complex texts and weave spellbinding tales, which turn traditional comic book stories on their heads. That said, V For Vendetta is not his best work. It’s a wonderful set-up and an intriguing new take on the concept of vigilantism, but never reaches the astonishing heights of his later works (the seminal Watchmen being the high water mark for any writer, let alone graphic novel writer).

The Matrix creators, The Wachowski brothers, pen this faithful adaptation but hand over directing duties to their regular 1st Assistant Director John McTeigue who rarely slips up as a first time director, but never takes any real risks with what could have been a particularly controversial story, given current geopolitical situations.

Instead of the nuclear fallout of the novel, Britain’s rise to totalitarianism follows a devastating pandemic, instead of the down and out 15 year old Evey who turns to prostitution, Natalie Portman is a television intern working for ‘The Voice’ who’s saved by the enigmatic V, a masked vigilante whose personal vendetta against the state turns into an epic anarchistic battle between the people and the regime (styled, true to form like Hitler’s third Reich).

While the adaptation of Moore’s work is well considered and genuinely crafted in the source materials mould, this is lacklustre filmmaking, riddled with heavy-handed symbolism and clunky sequencing. To illustrate a parent’s disowning of their child, we’re shown a beautifully composed shot of a baby picture being thrown in a bin, and to symbolise V’s internal anguish, we see him punching a mirror. There are plot inconsistencies, gaping holes of logic, and characters that seem only to exist for the sake of exposition. This all could have been forgiven, if the film wasn’t so boring. V For Vendetta is less anarchy, and more anarchy as a marketing tool, an abstracted concept up for inspection (without much insightful analysis). David Fincher’s Fight Club may have been a studio production from a corporate conglomerate, and only existed on the bankability of it’s A-list stars, but was still a far more subversive instruction on anarchy, nihilism and revolution than this film could ever hope to be.

And while Hirokazu Koreeda’s Nobody Knows was about the same length as V For Vendetta, my second film for the night floated by without me looking at my watch once. Exhausted, and partially deaf, I decided to pop the DVD for a little taste, and ended up glued to my seat, unable to tear myself away from the screen for a second. It may have been that Koreeda’s gentle drama about a quartet of siblings abandoned by their mother was the perfect antidote to V For Vendetta’s garish over killed stylisation, but regardless, there wasn’t a wasted moment or image in this devastating story.

Koreeda coaxes wonderful performances from his company of child actors, who are adorable and heartbreaking. Akira (Yuya Yagira, who deservedly won Best Actor at last years Cannes Film Festival) is dependable and honest, Kyoko (Ayu Kitaura) is sensitive and genuinely hurt by her mother's absense, while both Yuki (Momoko Shimizu) and Shigeru (Hiei Kimura) are cherub and joyous. His camera roves on the minute details that encompass the weight of a tragedy. Kyoko’s finger lingers over a nail polish stain on the floor which will not come out, while Akira’s Adidas sneakers become slowly worn away and grubby as he attempts to buy groceries, cook dinner, pay the bills, balance the bank account, and do his homework.

The children slowly become worn, scragglers, running through the streets, their faces covered in dirt and grime, despite bathing outside in the park. Surprisingly, nobody with any ability to do anything about their situation seems to take any interest.

There’s more than a little of Truffaut's The 400 Blows here, but Nobody Knows also recalls Virginia Andrew’s patchy, but popular Flowers in the Attic, whose abandoned children may have been affluent, but equally affected by their absent parents. Mixing in tones of social and political indifference reminiscent of Lee Chang Dong’s equally devastating Oasis, Koreeda crafts a compelling portrait of middle class Japan, whose social networks seem to render the children invisible.

Despite being based on a true story, Koreeda avoids making a ‘socially important’ film. The children still take delight in growing plants, playing Playstation, and slurp happily on cold noodles. They’re genuinely elated when Akira brings them chocolates, and never once become overwhelmed by their plight. The decision to make their mother (Japanese popstar You) an appealing, attractive maternal figure makes her actions all the more monstrous. She may not want them, but they so desperately need her.

I may have been deafened by the explosions of V For Vendetta, but the muted silences of Nobody Knows made a far deeper, more permanent impression.—Shahir Daud

» John McTeigue | USA | 2005
» Hirokazu Koreeda | Japan | 2004