Gas at $37 a gallon and economic depression are hardly inconceivable these days, auspicious timing for a movie about American civilization reacting to such a disaster scenario. Atlas Shrugged’s refreshing celebration of economic risk-takers steps into the breach, a political economy lesson in the form of tony soap opera.
The movie proves plenty satisfying – 1950s characterizations and lack of true moviestars notwithstanding. Sleek, sexy, understated, it packs enough glamour to make the P-Econ go down with ease.
So what if it’s hardly a run-of-the-mill blockbuster. Legions of undergrads treasure the novel for just that reason.
Reason. There’s that word.
Ayn Rand fans know this is a must see. Some in the other 98% of the population might like it also, especially those interested in an alternative to the usual victimization fare that Hollywood favors. Atlas Shrugged’s romantic realism presents a true alternative worldview – from the Right not the Left.
Radical? Perhaps. Reasonable? Absolutely.
Russell Crowe, Angie and Brad weren’t available, an object lesson in the rarity of true moviestar charisma. Fortunately the movie stars an entirely serviceable set of leads.
The bit players are more recognizable – Jon Polito, Michael Lerner and Graham Beckel among them, the first two from any number of Coen Brothers movies, the last from any number of cop shows.
It’s a big story, resistant to shortening. One third of one thousand pages in Part I leads to leaps of logic unfathomable to many minds. Pity.
BTW, why are five medics listed in the credits? There were some explosions, sure, but five medics!!
High speed rail is central to President Obama’s Left Wing economic plans yet is also the great economic hope in this Right Wing movie. Which fantasy is stuck in the 1950s?
Then there’s this -
America the Exceptional, reason number 732: Ayn Rand, a Soviet Russian immigrant wrote this Great American Novel. Not French Novel, or British or German or Irish or Indian or Chinese. A novel like Atlas Shrugged could only be set in America, yet was written by a non-native daughter. Of course. Being American – alone among nations – has always been more about creed than chromosomes.
Native born Americans might forget this. Immigrants past and prayerful never do.