There's a reckless bravery to V for Vendetta. When our protagonist, the masked revenger, V, dynamites the Old Bailey in a London terrorist attack, he says, "Blowing up a building can change the world." You find yourself gasping a little. We know it's true, and we know exactly what he's referencing (no, it's not the Reichstag). But such a naked utterance, especially in a multiplex film, is wholly unexpected.

This quote, however, gives the viewer a good clue as to what's to come. The Wachowski brothers' version of Alan Moore's famed graphic novel is filled with everything but subtlety. Running through V is a valid critique on the state of the States, with its lap-poodle press, manufactured paranoia and consent, and a government that has allowed a worrying Christofascist element to ballast its ever-increasingly bizarre decisions. But what cries out for satirizing (if one can combat a parody of an administration with satire) is earnestly tackled through Moore's appropriated work with endless inflated babble that borders on the incontinent.

Moore's graphic novel (with its illustrations by David Lloyd) is a work of great complexity, born out of those early-'80s fears of what was happening to the United Kingdom under the reign of Thatcher the Milk Snatcher. Moore tapped into a vein of rage for the way that jingoism, prejudice and social Darwinism were transforming British life. The UK managed to survive the Baroness Thatcher's epic handbagging, but conditions across the pond now seem to be sliding toward Moore's Vendettaland more than those bad pre-Cool Brittania days ever did.

The Wachowskis' V for Vendetta, under the direction of their protégé James McTeige, seems more like a cartoon than its graphic novel progenitor. The prolixity of the script aside, the characterizations are cardboard: John Hurt's dictatorial Sutler froths with wrath as if rabid, while Moore's portrait was of a man who believed in his mission, however nefarious.

The greatest problem is that we never really know what the character V hopes to establish in place of the totalitarian political structure that everyone is suffering under. Obviously, he's committed to individual autonomy, even, perhaps, anarchy in its classical definition. Yet in the waves of words that pour forth from him, nothing like a manifesto for the future is revealed: "People should not be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people." Good. True. And?

The Matrix-by-way-of-Goth-fashion-shop aesthetic of the film is also troubling. It's a bit of the old Fascinating Fascism, a stylistic fetish for boots, Gestapo-black ensembles and weaponry, leading you to ponder what exactly will replace the evil Sutler's government if V gets his way.

Yet, this Wachowski enterprise does manage to surprise (it certainly surprised Moore, who has famously distanced himself from the results). V for Vendetta manages to be one of the boldest Hollywood films to state the case for gay rights, as in this dystopic-land homosexuals are treated violently as enemies of the state. Indeed, two sympathetic characters grievously suffer for their sexual orientation. Though one of the stories is rather heavy-handed, the effect is still electric, and, again, pleasantly surprising in a widely released film.

Cast members do the best they can under the script's condition. As V's follower, Natalie Portman manages to take us on an emotional journey in which a rather frightened young woman comes into her own as a powerful adversary against the status quo. Hugo Weaving, forever masked, does his level best to put over his leaden dialogue. Perhaps the most successful performances are those of Stephen Rea and Rupert Graves, as two detectives who get caught up in the back story of V.