That’s the question USA Today columnist Jeannie Williams put to her readers and the results appeared in her column of November 12. Readers of the great American novel, Atlas Shrugged, know the answer. They probably also know that this is the pr event of the millennium, a public poll on the work of an author who thought consensus should be spelled with four letters. A TNT (Turner Network Television) production of Ayn Rand’s epic novel is slated for completion just before the commencement of the new millennium late in 2000. The date is appropriate, since any attempt to film Atlas Shrugged will probably result in a cinematic debacle of apocalyptic proportions while redefining the phrase “disaster film.”
As a bibliophile enamored of this book, I have to plead, “Please don’t do this!” This is probably the only novel in the universe that should never be filmed. Its sweep, its grandeur, its depth, its intellect, and most of all, its integrity, can never leave the printed page without tearing away its heart and its soul.
One might think that Hollywood’s search for the consummate egoist would be like looking for a needle in a needle stack. But John Galt is a different type of egoist and not that normally associated with Hollywood, or even Ted Turner. Still, some of the calls were right on. Harrison Ford as Hank Rearden; Jodie Foster as Dagny Taggart; Antonio Banderas as Francisco D’Anconia, were all pretty much on the money and just as accurate as others were ludicrous. (Arnold Schwarzeneger as Ragnar Danneskold, Johnny Depp as John Galt! Sure, and why not Michael Meyers as Hank Rearden?)
Producer Albert S. Ruddy would probably do better to emulate the casting coup so successful in his masterful “The Godfather.” Virtual unknowns were used. (Remember Sly Stallone as a gangster extra?) Today the cast members are household names, but the only luminary at that time was Marlon Brando. Repeat that idea with one perfectly cast talent as John Galt, and the whole absurd concept might just fly – a few feet, anyway.
Here’s a really desperate solution. Let me cast it! Like others swept up in the madness of this fantasy, I’m obviously the only person with a grasp on the situation. If the job requires finding the supreme egoist and his entourage, who is better qualified than a scribe whose motto is, “Hey, it takes one to know one!” So I venture these choices from the critics’ row in the balcony, a section reserved for one-legged men who teach running.
We’ll leave the big choice for last, appearing at the climatic apex of the casting call, just as his fictional counterpart does in Atlas Shrugged.
Jodie Foster can provide the courage, intelligence, and beauty (no acting required on that last one) required for Dagny Taggart. Jim Taggart, Dagny’s brother and Ayn Rand’s greatest argument against genetic determinism, belongs to John Lithgow. (Don’t be misled by his buffoonery on television’s Third Rock From The Sun. He’s one of the most accomplished dramatic actors around and he’s the sniveling image of Taggart.)
Harrison Ford as the older, steel-skinned, terribly rich (again no acting required) Hank Rearden is a must in my version. The part of Rearden’s treacherous wife, Lillian, was written for Glen Close.
The USA Today poll leaned toward Zorro himself, Antonio Banderas for Francisco D’Anconia and they’re preachin’ to the choir here. Although careful readers of the novel will recall that Francisco was not Latin in the contemporary definition of the word, but in the imperial Roman sense, couldn’t we make a concession to (shudder) political correctness in deference to the panache called for in this role?
Most dashing among the novel’s towering characters, Ragnar Danneskold, needs only to have a countenance of Valhallan perfection and be able to read Aristotle as he swashes a few buckles. He is described as having a smile reminiscent of “..the first green of spring on the sculpted planes of an iceberg.” This describes Matt Damon and his million-dollar grin that could be used to sell toothpaste to an octopus.
As John Galt’s mentor, Hugh Akston, the great philosopher of reason, Leonard Nimoy has all the credentials and maturity.
Anthony Hopkin’s ability to breath life into psychos and losers of incomparable magnitude (Silence of the Lambs, Nixon) suit him for Galt’s arch-nemesis, the gelatinous head of state, Mr. Thompson.
How about Rick Schroeder as Dagny’s right arm, the wide-eyed innocent, Eddie Willers?
If you don’t know who any of these people are, you haven’t read the book. Do it now, before it is forever mummified in four hours of videotape. If you don’t read it before seeing the upcoming production, you incur the risk of projecting the video version into its pages, an experience which would undoubtedly be similar to viewing the Mona Lisa as reflected in a carnival funhouse mirror.
So, who is John Galt?
The answer appeared on the same page as Jeanne Williams’ USA Today column. But it wasn’t suggested by anyone involved in the poll. More than likely, it was given to us by a brilliant publicist or delightfully ambitious talent manager. To believe it was purely serendipitous is not possible. Check that issue and you’ll see a full quarter page ad with the implacable, intelligent eyes of John Galt gazing confidently at America. It is an ad for the television series Stargate, with (the envelope please!) Richard Dean Anderson (McGiver) answering the question “Who should be John Galt?”
John Galt possesses the kind of quiet, confident self-esteem that doesn’t require compensation through bragging, or other self-aggrandizing behavior. He’s a quick-witted inventor who never picks up a gun and inspires life-risking devotion from his friends. He also has to be tall, slim, and just downright pretty. Using Anderson would be perfect typecasting, a valuable tool when a director has to characterize in a few valuable frames.
ARI recently criticized Bill Gates for failing to stand up to federal regulators. The ball is in their court now and it will be interesting to see how successful they are in standing up to a similarly powerful adversary. Here’s hoping they prevent a dual travesty against art and property rights.
It may well be that Ted Turner is willing to run the risk of an easily affordable lawsuit in an effort to add this “classic” to his collection, along with any resulting publicity. The really scary part is that Turner does have the resources to buy this kind of cast. Just the thought of his money, his wife and their politics intertwined with the making of this film is chilling.
If at the turn of the millennium in 2001 you feel the ground shaking under you, it probably won’t be due to the footsteps of an apocalyptic beast. It’s more likely to be the real Atlas, doing everything but shrugging in her grave.
Thomas Kelly is a writer and graphic designer in Encinitas, California.
