Вот уже семь лет я точно знаю, что отвечать на вопрос: “Какой у тебя любимый фильм?” Потому что единственный - он действительно существует. Забавно, что при тотальной, на уровне ДНК, непереносимости антиутопий, мой любимый фильм (а также комикс, по которому он снят) оказался антиутопией. Смешно.
Вряд ли я когда-нибудь смогу объснить почему именно он. Может быть дело в том, что моя максималисткая душонка бесконечно влюблена в людей, готовых ради Идеи на всё, хотя религиозных фанатиков я не люблю, нестыковочка. Стоит вспомнить лишь Овода, Монте-Кристо, V и со мной все становится понятно. Может быть в прекрасной Портман. А может в суровой действительности. Remember, remember the fifth of November…
“But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I
know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who
was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not
the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and
forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I’ve
witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I’ve seen people kill in the
name of them, and die defending them… but you cannot kiss an idea,
cannot touch it, or hold it… ideas do not bleed, they do not feel
pain, they do not love… And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a
man… A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I
will never forget.” | V For Vendetta (2005)
Well it is the 5th and already I see people post clips from the film up which I guess is the cool thing to do. I am not sure if people who only know the V mask from just the film or Anonymous really knows what it means. The mask is of Guy Fawkes, a pro-Catholic terrorist, which has ironically now become a symbol for free speech. Like most historical figures we like to remember a fantasy version of them to better suit our modern purposes. We remember Columbus as a heroic discoverer but brush away his slaughter of natives, or Lincoln and Gandhi as Great Emancipator ignore their racist comments. We want to see the fairy tale versions of them and ignore all the negative baggage. So when I see people posting all these Guy Fawkes images from the film, I am wondering how many of them are forgetting this man was not a freedom fighter but wanted to impose Catholic rule over Britain. I assume ironically these people are also upset over the horrendous destruction done during the Crusades by Catholic warriors as well yet promote Fawkes’ image.
However the mask has since become a symbol of freedom and free speech as symbols can take on different meanings over time and the reason is not because of the movie, but because of the original comic version written by Alan Moore. Moore is a believer in the power of art and media to create changes in society. For Moore art is magic, art is literal magic symbols which have power over people. (Take the McDonald’s logo which makes one hungry, etc.) However art is suppose to be a stimulant not a mind numbing depressant. The Fawks mask in the comic now becomes a symbol for Anarchy, representing both the Creator and Destroyer. One who tears down the old canvas so new artists can create something new. The comic revolves around the struggle between Anarchy (complete personal freedom) and Totalitarianism (being bound to a single idea and body). The original comic is much deeper and more thought provoking than the film adaptation, if it can be called that. Yes, I enjoyed it and like it but the social liberalism vs. Bush republicanism rewriting of the story to appeal to a modern American audience dumb down the idea so much it just becomes another cheesy Hollywood action film, exactly what Moore dislikes. Not even getting into Moore’s claim that he writes his stories in a manner that can only fit the comic medium, his original story was not a clear black and white battle of ideology. Both Anarchy and Totalitarianism was presenting in an ambiguous manner as there were no “bad guys” or “good guys”, just perspectives. V murders innocent people in cold blood and wears a symbol of a Catholic terrorist while Norsefire tries their best to care for the citizens by redistributing resources and eliminating class structure by making all an equal part of a greater society. These ideas were meant to upset the reader in realizing the world is not and never will be a simple place like how comforting fairy tales make them to be. Reality does not allow one to go on an adventure then back to the security of home where anything of consequence was changed or lost. The comic allow the reader to come to this understand and to think for themselves and explore what this meant for their world even more, again art as a stimulant. However the film paints a black and white story, with evil Bush right wingers vs. liberal do gooders, really is just self indulging the audience with feel good feelings and fails to inspire really any new views or stimulating thoughts aside from “oh film V thinks like me that must mean I am also a hero”. The film just becomes mind numbing Michael Bay garbage where the clear hero always wins and bad guy loses. This is the V and Guy Fawks I am afraid that has infected our culture. A Guy Fawks that does not even know it’s own history, it’s Catholic terrorism past, it’s Moore symbol for Anarchy and transformation.
Sorry for the rant, I am in bed and ready to go to sleep but keep seeing my dash bombarded by all these Nov 5th posts. I guess what I want to say is if you have only seen the V for Vendetta film or only read the original comic in passing, if you do plan to promote Guy Fawks Day in any manner, please go out and read a copy of the comic. Read it and share it with a friend. Discuss it. Watch, read, or listen to interviews by Alan Moore. Think about what he really means by our art and media being literal magic. Our culture and art scene right now is in a repetitive stump, perhaps it is time to grow out of the old ways and make room for new art and stories to bloom.
The hospital room was already becoming suffocating.
“There’s nothing in here that will cure my boredom and that’s ironic because this is a hospital!” You exclaimed, causing the men that were in the room with you to look towards you with the same expression.
The “Stop Complaining This Is For Your Own Good” expression.
“You are conscious of what happened, right, (Y/N)?” Lestrade asked, his expression forming a slightly worried one as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“We were sitting at a local restaurant called Andrew’s waiting for our presumed suspect to carry on with their daily routine. I was enjoying some chicken nuggets that I sadly never got to finish because we had presumed our suspect erroneously and the true criminal was in the restaurant, presumably watching me eat my nuggets, and when Sherlock figured it out a fight broke out and I became injured.” You listed in a monotone voice as you stared at the ceiling before you lowered your gaze to meet Lestrade’s. “I know what happened. Grazed by a bullet, my left wrist is sprained, and glass shards were embedded into my shoulder because I was pushed to the floor and I hurt myself. Oh! And my pride is bruised. Aside from that, I’m completely fine. I want to go home.”
“(Y/N), you got a concussion.” John explained in a soft voice as he turned to you. “You were given some medication already and we’re just waiting for the doctor to give you the all clear. Then we’ll go home.”
“We should’ve just gone straight home. Like Sherlock said.” You mumbled as you quickly took a glimpse of the man in the trench coat who clearly did not want to be standing inside a hospital room.
“Can I at least get my phone?”
“You need rest.”
“John, you’re killing me.”
Lestrade smiled a bit and shook his head at your antics. There was never a boring moment of the day as long as you were around. You had a fantastic way of seeing the world and an equally interesting mind. You had, without a doubt, become a wonderful addition to the team and one that Sherlock didn’t mind…much. He thought you had a refreshing quality about yourself, though you could be annoying a times, but the pros outweighed the cons.
He had been worried about your health. But he had also known that whatever ailments you had could be treated at 221B Baker Street and not in 3-108 hospital room.
The doctor took hours before visiting your room, much to the shared annoyance of both you and Sherlock. Lestrade had to leave but you made him promise to get you food next time you saw him; for your troubles, of course. You had spent the time making up riddles that Sherlock would find logical answer to but soon that become boring and John still held your phone in an iron grip.
“Hello, my name is Doctor Jacobs, I will be treating this lovely young lady tonight.” The doctor said as he shook John’s hand, your own, and he went to shake Sherlock’s hand though it was a fruitless endeavor as his interest was captured by his phone.
‘I wish I had my phone.’ You thought sadly as you looked at John.
“And how are you feeling today, Miss. (L/N)?” Doctor Jacobs asked with a smile.
“Great. Nothing Ibuprofen can’t fix.”
“Well, your x-rays are fine. There’s nothing that we have to worry about, no fractures, nothing that is a source of serious alarm.” The doctor said as he checked your records, causing Sherlock to slightly roll his eyes. He already knew that. “You will need to rest for a couple of days; give your brain some time to recover from the blow. You might experience of headaches and some nausea and that can be taken care of with medication. Now, pertaining to your other injuries, the bullet that grazed you, the area was cleaned to prevent infection and it wasn’t deep enough to require any stitches. The glass was also removed from your shoulder will need a little bit of treatment with prescribed medication.”
John had been paying more attention to what the doctor had been saying than you, honestly. You had noticed that the doctor looked a little like an actor from a show you liked and while you analyzed the comparison you leaned back into the pillow and enjoyed the comfort it brought.
“Is there anything else you need, Ms. (L/N)?” The doctor asked, snapping you out of your thoughts and into reality where the men in the room looked at you.
“Let me get a McPick Two.” You sang slightly.
Boredom had officially taken over your brain and that vine always made you giggle. Your answer made John smile.
‘Rest in peace, Vine.’ You thought as you giggled, thinking of other vines.
“She’s fine. When can we leave?” Sherlock spoke before the doctor questioned your behavior, which was normal for you when you had nothing to satisfy your ever wandering mind.
“I’ll ready the discharge papers.”
“Thank you, doctor.” John smiled as he shook the man’s hand once more before the doctor left the room. “Really, (Y/N)? Let me get a McPick two?”
You only giggled as you looked out of the window.
John watched as Sherlock observed you with an interest he only had reserved for you. John often wondered if Sherlock knew how deep his curiosity about you was or how much importance he subconsciously gave you; because he did care about you. Your mind was one of the most brilliant he had ever come across. The amount of information you could capture and hold was extraordinary though it meant that your mind often lost itself within itself and that is what Sherlock found to be the most magnificent.
“(Y/N), what are you thinking about?” The curly haired man asked.
“Captain Briggs, his wife, and young daughter departed from New York in the Mary Celeste on November 7th, 1872. They were expected to dock in Italy yet no one aboard were ever seen again as in the middle of the Strait of Gibraltar the ship was found with no signs of struggle. Everything was intact except the Captain’s log was missing. Just like the Lost Colony.” You synthesized. “Roanoke Island, some years after 1587, where its members were never seen again. You know, they say the natives believed that if you angered the island you became a part of the island. Amelia Earhart also disappeared in 1937 and the Mothman of West Virginia after 1967. Nemo disappeared too but his father found him. Wait, isn’t it going to rain tomorrow?”
A small smile found it’s way to Sherlock’s lips. His eyes even sparkled as he watched your brain quickly jump from one subject to another, identifying different situations that had at least one thing in common. Your mind worked fast; efficiently when there was a case that required your knowledge. You used a case to focus. Sherlock used it to cure his boredom.
“It is what is predicted, yes.” John commented.
“We should get plants and put them outside. They like rain. Are we leaving?”
“Yes.” Sherlock answered, still keeping his gaze trained on you. “April 13th, 1570 to the 31th of January-”
“1606. Remember, remember! The 5th of November, the Gunpowder treason and plot; I know of no reason why the Gunpowder treason should ever be forgot! The House of Lords almost went boom and King James I was suppose to be assassinated. Guy Fawkes. V for Vendetta. Natalie Portman. Padmé Amidala. Darth Vader and the Empire. The Ottoman Empire existed for over 600 years before it came to an end in 1922.”
“As soon as we sign the papers, we’ll go home.” John said as he used his phone to check the time.
“The Great Pyramid of Giza were built by the 4th royal house of Egypt. They were autocratic rules who only delegated power to the members of the royal family but that changed when the 5th royal line of sun kings came to power. Horizon: Zero Dawn has a sun king. Avad the 14th sun king of the Carja tribe. He’s cool. Aloy reminds me of alloy, which is a metal made by the melting of two or more other metals and also a clothing brand for tall women.” You thought out loud as you stared out of the window once more.
There were times were the quickness of your mind connected the clues faster than even Sherlock at times (he only credits you with one as he claims he was only waiting for you to figure it out the rest of the times). It was one of the traits that he liked most about you and it made John smile as he saw Sherlock listen to your listless rambles and historical facts.
John noticed that he wasn’t going to comment on how you moved him out of the way and almost took a bullet for the detective. The fear had been shown in his body language as he looked over you while the ambulance arrived. He acted as if he did not care as if you were a source of annoyance for the consulting detective but you weren’t and John knew.
Remember remember the 5th of November when a member of an oppressed minority group began his violent activism against a system that was completely broken. At least our system isn’t built on the oppression minority groups… oh wait - wait; - I forgot our system is based on colonialism which inherently and systematically oppresses minority groups. I guess I made that reference without thinking about what it really meant… jk no homo go america!!!