First things first: I’m not an Objectivist. My favorite Ayn Rand novel is actually The Fountainhead, but I like many things about Atlas Shrugged, although I don’t buy into a lot of Rand’s philosophy. So when I heard there was a film, I wanted to see it, although I was afraid it would be a trainwreck, no pun intended.
I thought of buying the DVD, but finally decided to wait and borrow a copy from the library. So, let’s begin. I’ll be contrasting the way the novel and the film present some of the characters, in no particular order…
Francisco d’Anconia
The Francisco of the present, in both book and film, is a playboy, but the book uses a 23-page flashback to show how different he was in the past. Granted, in the past he was a brilliant uberman who could do anything perfectly, but still, that’s enough of a contrast to his current state that it raises the question of why he’s fallen so far. The movie has no such contrast. It presents Francisco as a playboy and there’s no indication that he was ever anything else.
The problem is that the movie bends over backward to make Francisco unlikeable. Rather than being handsome, he’s unshaven and scruffy-looking in an open-necked shirt when he approaches Hank Rearden at the anniversary party. He also seems to have women hanging off his arms at every opportunity. That’s not Francisco d’Anconia. That’s not even Jayne Cobb. In the book, Francisco makes it clear to Rearden that he’s never touched any of the women who have been rumored as his lovers, but it’s only too easy to imagine the Francisco of the film indulging in everything that came his way.
In the book, when Dagny visits Francisco at the hotel, she finds him playing marbles, and though that appears frivolous at first, the game is a chance for Rand to show three things. First, the marbles are made of semi-precious stones—the association of Francisco with wealth and refinement. Second, he’s very good at the game—naturally, since he’s good at everything. Finally, Dagny realizes his playing isn’t an affectation—he’s constantly active and hates to be just sitting around.
In the film, Francisco is more than happy to sit around, especially if there’s a drink handy. When Dagny offers to beg him for the money she needs to develop the John Galt Line, a scene which occurs in both book and film, the Francisco of the book reacts with suppressed anger and pain. He doesn't want to see her self-respect and dignity humbled to the point where she has to beg. In the movie, he says, “Hah. You don’t know how [to beg].” That’s not Francisco d’Anconia. That’s Gogo Yubari challenging the Bride.
Also, his reaction to hearing “The John Galt Line” is so understated that the significance of the name is lost entirely. Finally, both his speeches are cut from the movie. When he sits down with Rearden and says, “I want to learn to understand you,” both of them start laughing as though it’s the funniest farce they ever witnessed. A farce it is, but funny it’s not.
Hank Rearden
Grant Bowler makes a pretty good Rearden, but he gets some lines which are unbelievable—and which would have Ayn Rand rolling over in her grave.
1. When Dagny swaps her diamonds for the bracelet of Rearden Metal and tells him, “Sorry, Hank, but I had to”, in the film he replies, “It’s nothing, it’s just a useless hunk of metal.” Rearden would never have denigrated his own accomplishment like that.
2. In Ellis Wyatt’s house at night, he says to Dagny, “All I want to do right now is kiss you.” That’s a soap-opera sentiment the Rearden of the novel would never have made under those circumstances; he fought his attraction to Dagny before he finally gave into it. The film has him kissing her in public the morning after and planning to go away somewhere with her. The book had him telling her how much he despised the both of them—himself for breaking his marriage vows and her for giving in to a degrading physical passion.
In other words, the Rearden of the film obviously doesn’t care whether he’s married or not, and this isn’t only poor characterization, it’s lousy conflict.
3. When they’re looking at the motor, he says, “This must be a secondary cooling system, probably designed to eliminate excess heat generated during the process.” No kidding, is that really what cooling systems do? To make it even better, he’s speaking to someone who has a degree in engineering.
Lillian Rearden
Granted that Lillian is a poorly written antagonist, since like James Taggart she’s evil for the sake of being evil and has no redeeming qualities whatsoever, the film does an even worse job on her.
In the book, her first scene is the one where Rearden gives her a bracelet made from the first pour of Rearden Metal. The bracelet is not attractive—it’s a chain of metal links that are “heavy, crudely made”—but it represents Rearden’s pride in his achievement. Lillian says, “It’s the chain by which he holds us all in bondage.”
In the film, the bracelet is actually pretty. It’s not flashy or glittering, but it’s not crude either, and, more importantly, it’s not shaped like a chain. So when Lillian says the “chain… bondage” line, that makes no sense.
Also, in the film, when she talks about the bracelet, she’s casually dismissive and condescending. In the book, she dresses up for their anniversary party like this:
Finally, the Lillian of the novel dislikes Francisco d’Anconia, which is one more indication that he’s actually one of the good guys. In the film, she greets him enthusiastically, which makes her look like one of his groupies and makes him look like just any other guest.
Hugh Akston
His first appearance in the novel is when he’s working in a diner, keeping it clean and cooking meals.
His first appearance in the film is when he’s leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette. Like Francisco, he hasn’t shaved in a while, so maybe it’s a good thing he’s not preparing anyone’s food.
“Does this car get good mileage?” he says in answer to Dagny’s question about his young student.
“I’ve traveled a very long way to be here,” she tells him.
“Yeah,” drawls Akston, making me wonder if it’s actually a cigarette he’s smoking, “and you’ve got a long way to go, too.”
I can’t imagine this man successfully training a dog. As for the cigarette, the camera focuses on the dollar sign, but since the Akston of the film doesn’t bother offering Dagny a smoke, she doesn’t get to keep the cigarette butt, so I don’t know why the director even bothered with that shot.
Dagny Taggart
Ah, Dagny.
In the book, her first appearance is on a train—and not just any train, but the Taggart Comet, a nice bookend to the finishing scene where Eddie is on the Comet. She wakes up to realize the Comet has stalled for some reason, so she tells the engineer and fireman what to do. It’s only once she’s done so—showing her competence and authority—that they ask her name, and the readers learn it too.
In the film, her first scene is when she wakes up in a big apartment because her cell phone’s ringing, and her first action is to press a button to slide up the window screens. Woo, futuristic technology. I don’t think the movie even makes it clear that she’s the Vice-President in Charge of Operation.
It all goes downhill from there. She throws a drink in Francisco’s face, whereas the Dagny of the book would never have lost control to that extent. Then again, the Dagny of the book would never have hinted at prostituting herself to Francisco to finance the John Galt Line either. She’s a businesswoman, not an automaton who has no ideals or dreams in life other than running a railroad.
Finally, the Dagny of the book only treats Rearden’s marriage with levity once, and when she sees she’s hurt him, she regrets doing so. In the film, he’s quite happy about committing adultery, so she feels free to joke with him the morning after: “How scandalous. You’re a married man!” That’s not a line Dagny Taggart would ever say.
There are so many more issues—the pretzel-like twists the film makes to have the 1950’s action set in 2016, the utter cheesiness of the “Ragnar the Pirate” moniker (he sounds like the villain in “Sinbad the Sailor”), the fact that the only person of color is the assistant, the hodge-podge jamming-in of names from the novel without any attempt to put those people into any sort of context. I could go on and on. The only good scene is the first train going over the John Galt Line, and that can’t make up for the rest of the film. Atlas would have shrugged at this one, if it didn’t put him to sleep first.
I thought of buying the DVD, but finally decided to wait and borrow a copy from the library. So, let’s begin. I’ll be contrasting the way the novel and the film present some of the characters, in no particular order…
Francisco d’Anconia
The Francisco of the present, in both book and film, is a playboy, but the book uses a 23-page flashback to show how different he was in the past. Granted, in the past he was a brilliant uberman who could do anything perfectly, but still, that’s enough of a contrast to his current state that it raises the question of why he’s fallen so far. The movie has no such contrast. It presents Francisco as a playboy and there’s no indication that he was ever anything else.
The problem is that the movie bends over backward to make Francisco unlikeable. Rather than being handsome, he’s unshaven and scruffy-looking in an open-necked shirt when he approaches Hank Rearden at the anniversary party. He also seems to have women hanging off his arms at every opportunity. That’s not Francisco d’Anconia. That’s not even Jayne Cobb. In the book, Francisco makes it clear to Rearden that he’s never touched any of the women who have been rumored as his lovers, but it’s only too easy to imagine the Francisco of the film indulging in everything that came his way.
In the book, when Dagny visits Francisco at the hotel, she finds him playing marbles, and though that appears frivolous at first, the game is a chance for Rand to show three things. First, the marbles are made of semi-precious stones—the association of Francisco with wealth and refinement. Second, he’s very good at the game—naturally, since he’s good at everything. Finally, Dagny realizes his playing isn’t an affectation—he’s constantly active and hates to be just sitting around.
In the film, Francisco is more than happy to sit around, especially if there’s a drink handy. When Dagny offers to beg him for the money she needs to develop the John Galt Line, a scene which occurs in both book and film, the Francisco of the book reacts with suppressed anger and pain. He doesn't want to see her self-respect and dignity humbled to the point where she has to beg. In the movie, he says, “Hah. You don’t know how [to beg].” That’s not Francisco d’Anconia. That’s Gogo Yubari challenging the Bride.
Also, his reaction to hearing “The John Galt Line” is so understated that the significance of the name is lost entirely. Finally, both his speeches are cut from the movie. When he sits down with Rearden and says, “I want to learn to understand you,” both of them start laughing as though it’s the funniest farce they ever witnessed. A farce it is, but funny it’s not.
Hank Rearden
Grant Bowler makes a pretty good Rearden, but he gets some lines which are unbelievable—and which would have Ayn Rand rolling over in her grave.
1. When Dagny swaps her diamonds for the bracelet of Rearden Metal and tells him, “Sorry, Hank, but I had to”, in the film he replies, “It’s nothing, it’s just a useless hunk of metal.” Rearden would never have denigrated his own accomplishment like that.
2. In Ellis Wyatt’s house at night, he says to Dagny, “All I want to do right now is kiss you.” That’s a soap-opera sentiment the Rearden of the novel would never have made under those circumstances; he fought his attraction to Dagny before he finally gave into it. The film has him kissing her in public the morning after and planning to go away somewhere with her. The book had him telling her how much he despised the both of them—himself for breaking his marriage vows and her for giving in to a degrading physical passion.
In other words, the Rearden of the film obviously doesn’t care whether he’s married or not, and this isn’t only poor characterization, it’s lousy conflict.
3. When they’re looking at the motor, he says, “This must be a secondary cooling system, probably designed to eliminate excess heat generated during the process.” No kidding, is that really what cooling systems do? To make it even better, he’s speaking to someone who has a degree in engineering.
Lillian Rearden
Granted that Lillian is a poorly written antagonist, since like James Taggart she’s evil for the sake of being evil and has no redeeming qualities whatsoever, the film does an even worse job on her.
In the book, her first scene is the one where Rearden gives her a bracelet made from the first pour of Rearden Metal. The bracelet is not attractive—it’s a chain of metal links that are “heavy, crudely made”—but it represents Rearden’s pride in his achievement. Lillian says, “It’s the chain by which he holds us all in bondage.”
In the film, the bracelet is actually pretty. It’s not flashy or glittering, but it’s not crude either, and, more importantly, it’s not shaped like a chain. So when Lillian says the “chain… bondage” line, that makes no sense.
Also, in the film, when she talks about the bracelet, she’s casually dismissive and condescending. In the book, she dresses up for their anniversary party like this:
This is all the difference between Lillian telling people she disdains her husband’s new invention, and Lillian showing it—not to mention going out of her way to make the bracelet look cheap and ugly. Then again, the Lillian of the film can’t do anything but talk. Even her greeting to Dagny is characterless and catty. In the book, she and Dagny address each other as “Mrs Rearden” and “Miss Taggart”; in the film they’re on a first-name basis and and she’s so touchy-feely that I expected her to air-kiss Dagny.
Finally, the Lillian of the novel dislikes Francisco d’Anconia, which is one more indication that he’s actually one of the good guys. In the film, she greets him enthusiastically, which makes her look like one of his groupies and makes him look like just any other guest.
Hugh Akston
His first appearance in the novel is when he’s working in a diner, keeping it clean and cooking meals.
His first appearance in the film is when he’s leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette. Like Francisco, he hasn’t shaved in a while, so maybe it’s a good thing he’s not preparing anyone’s food.
“Does this car get good mileage?” he says in answer to Dagny’s question about his young student.
“I’ve traveled a very long way to be here,” she tells him.
“Yeah,” drawls Akston, making me wonder if it’s actually a cigarette he’s smoking, “and you’ve got a long way to go, too.”
I can’t imagine this man successfully training a dog. As for the cigarette, the camera focuses on the dollar sign, but since the Akston of the film doesn’t bother offering Dagny a smoke, she doesn’t get to keep the cigarette butt, so I don’t know why the director even bothered with that shot.
Dagny Taggart
Ah, Dagny.
In the book, her first appearance is on a train—and not just any train, but the Taggart Comet, a nice bookend to the finishing scene where Eddie is on the Comet. She wakes up to realize the Comet has stalled for some reason, so she tells the engineer and fireman what to do. It’s only once she’s done so—showing her competence and authority—that they ask her name, and the readers learn it too.
In the film, her first scene is when she wakes up in a big apartment because her cell phone’s ringing, and her first action is to press a button to slide up the window screens. Woo, futuristic technology. I don’t think the movie even makes it clear that she’s the Vice-President in Charge of Operation.
It all goes downhill from there. She throws a drink in Francisco’s face, whereas the Dagny of the book would never have lost control to that extent. Then again, the Dagny of the book would never have hinted at prostituting herself to Francisco to finance the John Galt Line either. She’s a businesswoman, not an automaton who has no ideals or dreams in life other than running a railroad.
Finally, the Dagny of the book only treats Rearden’s marriage with levity once, and when she sees she’s hurt him, she regrets doing so. In the film, he’s quite happy about committing adultery, so she feels free to joke with him the morning after: “How scandalous. You’re a married man!” That’s not a line Dagny Taggart would ever say.
There are so many more issues—the pretzel-like twists the film makes to have the 1950’s action set in 2016, the utter cheesiness of the “Ragnar the Pirate” moniker (he sounds like the villain in “Sinbad the Sailor”), the fact that the only person of color is the assistant, the hodge-podge jamming-in of names from the novel without any attempt to put those people into any sort of context. I could go on and on. The only good scene is the first train going over the John Galt Line, and that can’t make up for the rest of the film. Atlas would have shrugged at this one, if it didn’t put him to sleep first.
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