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.