This has to be, by any measure, one of the most spectacularly bizarre films ever made based, of course, upon one of the dottiest books! With the character of Howard Roark, Rand personified her own unique `objectivist' philosophy and Vidor put it on the screen in the form of Gary Cooper who enunciates his lines even more robotically than usual rather as if he can't quite believe what he is being required to say! The script, penned by Rand herself, requires that almost every character deliver their lines as if each were their last and most heroic utterance! The symbolism, too, is hardly subtle. For example, in one scene the heroine, Dominique Francon, played by Patricia Neal, beautiful but hard, frigid and sanctimonious, first encounters Roark while he chooses to work as a day labourer in her father's quarry rather than prostitute his architectural `genius' in the pursuit of wealth and acclaim. She stands looking down on this `tall, gaunt' man piercing the hard, rigid rock façade with a large drill that he holds tightly as if it were an extension of his arm. Naturally, the rock crumbles under the force of this penetration! We then see her later, obsessed by this image, breaking the marble fireplace in her bedroom as a pretext to get Roark to come to her. Needless, to say the course of this true love just wasn't meant to run smoothly and Roark deserts Dominique in order to return to New York in response to a request from a wealthy, and obviously discerning, patron to design and build an apartment block. It is here, on the opening night of the controversial building, that the two are temporarily reunited.
The other central character Gail Wynand, who employs Dominique as a columnist on his paper `The Banner' - a kind of 1940's The Sun - shares many of Roark's characteristics although, in contrast to Roark, his immense wealth is based upon pandering to the bigotry of the masses rather than standing alone and apart from the crowd as Roark chooses to do. It is Roark's integrity that ultimately wins Wynand, played by Raymond Massey, over and the two men, recognizing a mutual kinship, become almost inseparable friends, much to the vexation and bewilderment of Dominique who, by now, is Wynand's wife. Thus there ensues a curious, almost, troilistic relationship in which the female plays the role of the observer. In this respect Roark's treatment of Dominique might be viewed as somewhat sadistic.
Ultimately it is the patent absurdity of the script and the `heroic' style of acting that combine to produce a deliciously weird and compelling concoction that, because of these very qualities, one never tires of viewing.