Posting has been a little light here, as I'd been struck down with the 'flu that's raging around Los Angeles. Feeling too fragile to lift anything heavier than a glass of water and a remote, I've been busy watching TCM, where programming classic films is an art form. While David Brooks rages against the banality of the office park and its denizens, Patricia Neal and Gary Cooper wage their own war on mediocrity in The Fountainhead. Directed by the aptly-named King Vidor from a rampaging script adapted from the book of the same name by Ayn Rand, this is trash at the highest level--trash with a purpose and a lot of sex.
Cooper plays iconoclast architect Howard Rourk, who has a noble vision, strong manly forewarms, and a nice taste in battered fedoras. He's stalked, seduced, spurned and finally snagged by rich girl Dominique Francon (Patricia Neal) who's so hot she's cold, or vice versa. There's a lot of silly high blown talk about architecture, the spirit of man, selfishness, media manipulation and monuments to the aforementioned spirit, but there's a lot of sex, too.
The Fountainhead must be the most phallic movie ever made. Cooper's forever drilling into solid rock walls and building soaring skyscrapers while Neal is always in the saddle, one way or another.
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