WB’s Feverish Film Version of ‘The Fountainhead’ 1949

The first time Patricia Neal's Dominique sees Coop's Howard Roark in action, it's with his mighty jackhammer!

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Film fans’ reactions to the movie version of The Fountainhead are as varied as those to Ayn Rand’s notorious novel. The 1949 adaptation has been called everything from a misfire to camp to a misunderstood classic. To call The Fountainhead high camp seems inadequate. In fact, you might feel high when you watch the WB melodrama, which stars Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal. This movie is so bizarre on every level that I find it a highly entertaining train wreck.

The controversial rape scene from the book and movie of 'The Fountainhead.'

While The Fountainhead was a bestseller, what possessed Jack Warner to make this politicized movie when Red Scare was terrorizing Hollywood by the late ‘40s? Ayn Rand was anti-communist, but to Middle America, Rand was Russian, and you’d think Jack would want to avoid anything controversial. Once Warner committed, the big issue was how to make Rand’s 700-page tome, which wasn’t exactly Gone with the Wind, into a movie. Jack hired Rand to write the screenplay, though she had prior written just two. Rand must have had an air-tight contract, because she prevailed when director King Vidor initially wanted to delete Gary Cooper’s five-plus minute court room speech. Maybe Warner was afraid that Rand would blow up WB if he tampered with her work!

Is director King Vidor kindly explaining what the hell is going on in 'The Fountainhead?'

So, what do you get when an author boils down her mammoth book into a movie just under the two hour mark? Mad Magazine once did a Reader’s Digest parody, a one-page version of Gone with the Wind. The Fountainhead film is not far off! A major problem is the characters that are symbols for various ideologies on the page, and become caricatures when they are written bare bones for the screen. Add to the dilemma that Rand’s dialogue is mostly speechifying. Toss in characters that make hairpin turns regarding their life decisions or bombastic beliefs. The result?

Does Cooper's Howard think Neal's Dominique just has a crack in her marble,
 or has lost her marbles?

I’ll give you MY Reader’s Digest version of The Fountainhead: Struggling architect Howard Roark has two strikes against him—his uncompromising values and unique architectural vision. These qualities bring out extreme reactions in others, such as egomaniacal columnist Ellsworth Toohey, rich dabbler Dominique Francon, and pompous publisher Gail Wynand. Every time Howard gets a foot hold in the building world, it’s two steps back. What success he has only inflames his enemies. Gradually, Roark’s love/hate relationship with Dominique turns to love, and he even befriends her husband, Gail. Howard’s extreme reaction to change made to a housing complex he designed leads to a near-operatic climax.

Dominique loves Howard's blueprints, but his jackhammer even more!

It’s hard to judge the acting, as the cast is given crazed characters and dialogue to play. Let’s just say the stars don’t help matters. Gary Cooper was massively miscast as Howard Roark. Coop was 47 during filming and like many stars of his era, looked prematurely aged. The solution to the early scenes, when Roark is a college lad, is to photograph him with his back to the camera, in silhouette. This makes the other characters haranguing of Coop’s shadow with expository dialogue especially hilarious. We get our first look at Gary when he’s finally hired, photographed in long shot, leaving at the door.

Unfortunately, at 47, Gary Cooper looks like Indiana Jones on his last crusade.

Still, when Coop gives Pat the look, it's pretty hot!

Overall, Gary Cooper was a fine film actor. He performed well in a variety of film genres and his understated performing style has aged well. Coop was also subtly charismatic, incredibly handsome in his youth, and despite his weathered appearance, still appealing through his film career. Proof of the latter: 22-year-old Patricia Neal fell madly in love with him. Coop is fine as usual in the romantic and more personal scenes. But as soon as Gary has to give a Rand rant, Coop sounds like he’s reading his lines phonetically. The courtroom defense speech that Roark gives is supposed to be so moving and eloquent that the jury finds him not guilty—Cooper’s halting line readings make you question Roark’s competency.

As Dominique, does Patricia Neal have crazy eyes or only eyes for hubby Raymond Massey? 

On the other end of the acting spectrum is Patricia Neal. This was one of Neal’s first films and supposed to make her WB’s new Bette Davis. Unfortunately, King Vidor directs Patricia the same way he directed the old Bette Davis that same year, in Beyond the Forest! Vidor lets novice Neal go way over the top, just as he let Davis overplay her neurotic character. Neal rolls her eyes, tosses her hair, snaps her lines, and so much more as the slightly deranged Dominique. Unlike other actresses, Neal’s latter husky voice is more appealing than hers as a young actress. Neal sounds clipped and metallic here, much like the ‘30s Katharine Hepburn. Like Cooper, Neal’s best in the quiet, romantic moments, and their chemistry is quite evident. Also, Patricia Neal rarely looked so lovely on film. Neal is photographed beautifully, styled simply, and her 5’ 8” figure looks lovely in Milo Anderson’s costumes (minus the white ermine-trimmed bosom number!).

Robert Douglas has a hammy field day as evil architecture columnist Ellsworth Toohey.

Robert Douglas as Ellsworth Toohey, nemesis to Howard Roark, is outrageously hammy and amusing. Toohey is an architecture columnist who despises individualism and seeks unlimited power—quite a jump from critiquing skyscrapers. Toohey’s column is called “One Small Voice,” though “One Big Blowhard” would have been more apt. The character comes off like All About Eve’s Addison DeWitt off his meds. Toohey is obsessed with mankind being made servile and selfless, not himself, natch. He seeks to destroy individualist Howard. Reynolds has a field day, blowing cigarette smoke heavenward after smoking Roark at every turn. Inexplicably, Reynolds is dressed like a dandy from the previous century, not the late 1940s. If he had a monocle, he’d look like Mr. Peanut! 

Also maddening: what IS Toohey’s end game? The character is so unctuous and unlikeable, yet you’re supposed to believe that “The Banner’s” big newsroom staff walked out in protest of his firing. Why are the masses enthralled by this Clifton Webb wannabe? I think one prophetic point that Rand touches on is the cult of celebrity and the cunning use of it over the masses. We have certainly been living in that world for awhile. The thing is, for as many followers as certain TV political pundits have, equally as many despise them.

Henry Hull, just over a decade older than youngster Gary Cooper, plays his wizened mentor in 'The Fountainhead.'

Henry Hull is a hoot as Roark’s mentor, Henry Cameron, another architect who won’t compromise. Hull so overplays that he seems schizophrenic rather than eccentric. Hull dies in the first 15 minutes, but not before he rails at Roark, rips up newspapers snatched from a paperboy, and gives an ambulance deathbed aria.

Raymond Massey pompously plays the pompous news publisher in 'The Fountainhead.'

Raymond Massey plays yet another overbearing role as newspaper mogul Gail Wynand. The grandiose lines further make Massey look like a total gasbag. He smugly recalls how he pulled himself up from the bootstraps in Hell’s Kitchen, but his patrician tones suggest otherwise. His character goes through several about faces, the last of which is especially unbelievable. After defending Roark to the hilt, his paper in ruins, then he suddenly gives in when the board of directors threaten to fire him.

WB's Kent Smith plays Peter Keating, yet another pleasant but spineless role for the actor.
Here, he's under the thumb of Reynolds' ruthless Ellsworth Toohey.

Kent Smith, WB’s resident player of wimps, is weakling architect Peter Keating. The character becomes a success through compromise, and then is twisted like a pretzel by most of the other characters. Though younger than Cooper, Smith wasn’t exactly a spring chicken here, sporting a buzz cut for his ‘college years.’

The cinematography and production values are the real star of 'The Fountainhead.'

The best thing about The Fountainhead is the production values of the movie. Depicting great wealth and stupendous architecture, frugal WB stretched the dollars, but used imaginative ways to put it over. First is Robert Burks cinematography. There are moments that remind me of Citizen Kane, which also had to come up with ingenious ways to portray extreme wealth. Some of the scenes and sets are simple, made vivid by contrast of stark light and shadows. The art direction by Edward Carrere and set decoration by William L. Kuehl is top notch, in tandem with Burks’ camera work. Max Steiner’s score is typically dramatic, but for the romantic scenes, his music is most subtle.

Patricia Neal looks skyward to Gary Cooper in the finale of 'The Fountainhead.'

The Fountainhead found King Vidor right in the middle of his baroque period. Vidor had already directed the operatic western Duel in the Sun for David Selznick. In 1949, he performed the double header of The Fountainhead and Beyond the Forest, which amazingly didn’t end his contract at WB. The last of his manic movies was 1952’s Ruby Gentry, with Jennifer Jones as a lusty swamp girl.

Who decided this was an appropriately flattering last shot of Coop in 'The Fountainhead?'

The ending of The Fountainhead conveniently makes Massey go away, finds Neal’s Dominique looking radiant as she looks up, riding to the top of Roark’s latest project. Coop stands waiting, hands on his hips like Superman, looking unflatteringly down. Yet, if Cooper’s Roark had swooped down and flown away with Neal’s Dominique, I wouldn’t have been at all surprised. Enjoy every moment or avoid at all cost!

If 'The Fountainhead' gives you a headache, take this!

Ann Sheridan's Glamour Brightens Gloomy Noir 'Nora Prentiss' 1947

Ann Sheridan is top-billed and the title character, but plays second fiddle to WB's resident wimp, Kent Smith!

Ann Sheridan, one of the '40s most appealing actresses, had her last hurrah with WB in 1947-48. The Unfaithful was a San Fran transplant of The Letter and Nora Prentiss was a domestic drama turned film noir. Sheridan teamed with Errol Flynn in ’48 for the Raoul Walsh western, Silver River. Ann then appeared in Leo McCarey's Good Sam with Gary Cooper. Though the comedy disappointed critics and audiences, Sheridan and Cooper’s appeal still helped make it a box office success. None of these movies are classics, but overall, were popular at the time.

After leaving WB, Ann starred in Howard Hawks 1949's I Was a Male War Bride with Cary Grant. Sheridan was sparkling in this smash screwball comedy, with Hawks' showcasing Ann’s comic flair as he did with Carole Lombard in Twentieth Century.

Ann Sheridan in a publicity pose as 'Nora Prentiss.' Though hyped as a femme fatale, Ann's singer is sympathetic.

With all this, Sheridan’s box office standing seemed in better shape than most veteran female stars. Yet, the bottom dropped out of Ann Sheridan’s career in 1950. Was it because Sheridan turned 35? Back then, that was the point of no return for an actress. Was it that Sheridan never had a signature movie role? Say, a role or film that could take Ann to the next level, of a Carole Lombard, Jean Arthur, or Rosalind Russell? Even as Randy Monaghan in Kings Row, Sheridan didn’t appear till nearly half way through the picture. Was it because she wasn’t a careerist, like Crawford, Davis, and Hepburn? I think that Sheridan was a bit like Joan Blondell, someone who was considered a great broad that could do a little of everything, but not a so-called great actress, like Norma Shearer or Greer Garson.

What a shame, since Ann Sheridan had one of film’s most distinctive personalities, full of warmth and good humor. Not only was Sheridan a terrific wisecracking comedienne, but also a natural dramatic actress, much like Lombard. Ann also had an appealing singing voice, unlike many dubbed movie divas. Sheridan looked like a more “down to earth” version of Rita Hayworth, and wasn't called 'The Oomph Girl' for nothing! With all of this going for her, why did Ann Sheridan’s star fall so far after 1950?

I preferred the first half of 'Nora Prentiss,' where the good doc is torn between family and Sheridan's sassy singer.

In retrospect, 1947’s Nora Prentiss seems like a sign of things to come. As the title character and top billed star, Ann Sheridan somehow plays second fiddle to Kent Smith. Yes, the Kent Smith. The actor arrived at WB after WWII, and Smith quickly became typecast as the milquetoast male for the leading lady or the bad guy to walk all over. Smith was certainly a capable performer, and after he left WB, became a reliable character actor. Kent Smith just wasn't dynamic enough to become a top rank star. In fact, WB never really had a breakout male superstar after John Garfield. There were middling male stars like Ronald Reagan, Dane Clark, and Harry Guardino—or worse, Steve Cochran and David Brian! How ironic that mild-mannered Kent Smith's big starring role came at the expense of Ann Sheridan, who was about to walk out the WB door, like so many of her fellow stars, over money and scripts.

 Ann Sheridan on the set of 'Nora Prentiss' with co-star Kent Smith. Does he measure up?

Nora Prentiss is a sassy night club singer who is the catalyst for dull doctor Richard Talbot to leave his wife and family. The first half of the movie is a romantic triangle, with Talbot increasingly drawn to Nora, yet guilt-ridden for wanting to leave his family. Sheridan and Smith’s first scenes together, when Nora is tended to by the doc after a minor accident, showcase Ann’s snappy delivery. Sheridan later sings two numbers, sounding especially lovely on “Who Cares What People Say?”

Ann Sheridan is a more than capable chanteuse as 'Nora Prentiss.' 

Their romance is reaching dead end when an improbable opportunity presents itself. Talbot takes it, and from then on he hijacks the movie to the road of abject misery and absurd twists. The WB ads play up Nora as a femme fatale, which she isn't. None of the events are Nora's fault, and she tries to leave him several times, so he can salvage his life. I won't give away the major plot spoiler, but what happens to make the doctor’s new life possible is so ridiculous, even before the DNA era, is patently phony. Eventually, Talbot pays an extreme price.

Smith's respectable doctor goes on the skids in record time over Sheridan's nightclub chanteuse.

Aside from unbelievable, I found the last half of Nora Prentiss tiresome and depressing. The domestic drama was more real and heartfelt to me. The story seemed familiar, then I read a few comments on how similar Nora Prentiss was to Dreiser's Sister Carrie: A respectable businessman with a solid but dull life and dominating wife, throws it all away for a captivating small-time performer. Bingo! What's strange is that a film version, titled Carrie, was made five years later with Laurence Olivier—and Larry and Kent Smith bear more than a passing resemblance to each other—the basset hound eyes, set jaw line, and pencil mustache. However, unlike Olivier, Kent Smith's doctor declines in record time; it's like watching Dr. Jekyll turn into Mr. Hyde!

Laurence Olivier in 'Carrie.'

Kent Smith in 'Nora Prentiss.'

Nora Prentiss has a stellar supporting WB cast. Yet it is typical how up and coming WB actors got thrown into thankless roles. Just a couple years earlier, Robert Alda made his WB film debut as George Gershwin and he played several starring roles shortly after. Alda was a nasty night club owner in The Man I Love. Here in Nora Prentiss, he's a nice night club owner. It's very hard to believe that tall, dark, and handsome Alda, whose character owns a nightclub and wants to marry singer Nora, would seem like a no-brainer, right? Sheridan’s Nora laments to Smith’s married doctor at the movie’s beginning that she can’t meet a good guy, only bums…yet takes a pass on Alda’s Phil.

Bruce Bennett, who was relegated to one scene in Bette Davis' A Stolen Life in ’46, hadn't made much progress since playing Bert Pierce opposite Joan's title character the year before. In Nora Prentiss, he's Smith’s fellow partner, who's there to pick up the pieces and find clues. Like Kent Smith, Bennett was a rather dull actor, but he was solid enough and attractive, but is stuck in a totally nothing role. It seems like WB filled out the background characters with anybody on the lot who wasn't working!

Vincent Sherman took over the helm from Edmund Goulding and Irving Rapper as WB’s top director of women. Combine all the Bette and Joan movies Sherman helmed, he should have gotten, if not an Oscar, perhaps a Purple Heart! Sherman was a solid, smooth, if not groundbreaking director, and he keeps spinning this tale skillfully before you have enough time to think about it.

Director Vincent Sherman, a bit of a ladies man, seems to be enjoying the charismatic Ann Sheridan.

Film noir fans will probably enjoy Nora Prentiss most, as will Sheridan admirers. I just wished it was truly an Ann Sheridan film.

As for Ann Sheridan’s career, while she is well-liked, you don’t see classic film historians and fans fawning over her or trying to elevate Sheridan’s legacy, like certain other “underrated” actresses who have become overrated by revisionism. Ultimately, a star’s work is their legacy, and as Ann Sheridan tearfully sings as Nora Prentiss, who cares what people say?

Ann Sheridan is the song bird in the gilded hotel cage for the last half of 'Nora Prentiss!'