Former New Zealand television and radio broadcasting personality Lindsay Perigo recently got a chance to watch the Atlas Shrugged movie. A serious, long-term fan of Rand’s work, he is not known for pulling any punches.
Here’s what he had to say:
Just watched it. Absolutely loved it. I’ll go back and read all the reasons I shouldn’t have tomorrow. Perhaps. But compared to the shitty, lousy world of liars, phonies and frauds one encounters every day, this was indeed like being in Atlantis. Like Fred Seddon I teared up many times. I’m now going to watch it again. And then very possibly a third time straight after that!
And on the second viewing:
Some thoughts after second viewing, with critical faculties restored and the endorphin rush having abated a little. I’ve not trawled back and reacquainted myself with the various reviews here, so forgive me if I repeat things others have already said. Such repetition is inadvertent. These are just a few random thoughts off the bat:
1) Jim Taggart is way more self-possessed and prepossessing (and much younger) than the character in the novel. On second viewing I found myself puzzling over why the decision was made to cast and portray him this way.
2) Dagny is more conventionally personable than her book counterpart, though the steelyness is still there in truckloads.
3) Bob Beckel’s brother is a riot as Wyatt. I mean that in a good way.
4) Too many of the indoors scenes are underlit. This may be fashionable, but on second viewing it got irritating.
5) I found myself puzzling also over Francisco. He’s supposed to be affecting to be dissolute, but comes across here as being dissolute. Even in his one-on-one with Rearden. Hard to imagine this slurry-voiced bleary-demeanoured character delivering the money speech. Perhaps this will come right in Pt 2. He is divine on the eye; it would be nice to hear more of the stellar lines from the book from those lovely lips.
6) Whoever that is playing Rearden is terrific. And Lillian is suitably sardonically repugnant.
7) Galt is a worry. His lines sounded wooden and unconvincing.
8 ) We needed a scene showing Dagny being swamped with volunteers after the confrontation with the union goon, before the launch of the John Galt line.
9) *Loved* the launch of the John Galt line!
10) Great ending. Can’t wait for Pt 2.
So yes, some niggles crept in on second viewing, but that’s all they are at this point. At least the philosophy didn’t get bowdlerised. I certainly don’t see the movie as the stinker some described it as. I’m sure I shall watch it often.
There’s no point belaboring the makers for not following the book to the letter. One might as well bitch about the characters using cellphones. It’s based on the novel; it’s not and does not purport to be a slavishly faithful reproduction of every detail thereof. How could it be? Inevitably with a work of this magnitude, scenes, characters (is there no Richard Halley or Wet Nurse?) and dialogue have to be omitted that one would rather see preserved. But is the essence intact? I think so, thus far. Has it been done skillfully and artistically? With certain reservations, I think so, thus far. Does it thrill? Well, it thrills me, thus far. Bring on the rest of it!
And on the fourth viewing:
… still entranced. I do believe I’ll watch this every day for the rest of my life.
In that space of time—the rest of my life—I’d like to meet one Dagny, one Hank, one Eddie (*love* the black Eddie), one Ellis (knew him once: his name was Jessica Weddell; her brother Bill was Hugh Akston minus the diner). These characters were once real, but they died. Their names were such as Ayn, Sergei and Mario. The reality of them makes me wish I were born 40 years earlier; I would have caught (and maybe interviewed) them all.
I think I’ve figured out why James T is a good-looking, self-assured (on the surface) young man, as opposed to the dribbling, flaccid vacillator of Ayn’s novel. These days, the latter are not so conspicuous, but the former are everywhere. The ACT party, for instance, is full of them. Peter Keatings, rather than James Taggarts. Shallow-as-bird-bath social climbers. Peter, James … in essence there’s no difference. But the former is more recognisable in contemporary terms.
