THEATRE REVIEW: The Fountainhead- The Lowry Theatre, Salford.

Ayn Rand is a name to drop at the moment. The late Russo-American author’s ideas about unfettered capitalism and ‘individual freedom’ are supposedly very influential in the current Trump administration and even Britain’s Home Secretary, Sajed Javed, has confessed to reading his wife long stretches from 'The Fountainhead' on their honeymoon. So, this mammoth (4 hours’ plus) stage adaptation of Rand’s 1945 novel is a timely import for the Manchester International Festival, performed here by Amsterdam’s International Theatre under their internationally renowned director Ivo Van Hove.

Put simply, 'The Fountainhead' is the story of an idealistic architect, Howard Roark, whose refusals to compromise his basic principles (that a building should have ‘integrity’ like a person and should serve a purpose rather than be decorative) brings him into conflict with just about everyone who crosses his path. Even those sympathetic to him tend to get on his wrong side. Throw a press baron and a populist demagogue into the mix and things lead to a literally explosive conclusion.

Van Hove’s dramatisation shows incredible fidelity to Rand’s text: it’s many years since I read the book, but there were parts of it which seemed quoted word for word. It was brave to attempt this (I felt that the film version, scripted by Rand herself, sold the book short) but I must question whether it was always wise. There were moments when what worked well on the page, with the omniscient narrator describing the thought processes of her characters failed to make dramatic sense on stage - as when Roark took over a commission from an over-parted ex-colleague - that made for a static longeur in this production; similarly, Roark’s famous closing speech - delivered verbatim after a rather confusing ‘false ending’ - although superbly delivered by Ramsey Nasr - would have benefited from some judicious trimming. Dramatisation should surely be about finding a dramatic form for the source work’s ideas - not shoving them piecemeal into the mouth of an actor.

The book spans a time period from the 1920s to the 1940s but Van Hove locates the action in a single static set of an architect’s office and the period is non-specific. The performances are uniformly strong. As Roark, Ramsey Nasr has the upright bearing and unemotional demeanour described by Rand: the only thing that can rouse him to articulate passion is discussion of architecture. Even his ‘rape’ of the heroine Dominique (the unspeakably sexy Halina Reijn) is accomplished with a James Bondian sangfroid. And here we come to the one of the many questionable things about Rand’s book which this production bravely doesn’t try to side-step. As a devout anti-feminist, Rand stressed her belief that ‘the essence of femininity is hero-worship’ - but would any woman, as Dominique seems to here, enjoy being raped by her ‘hero’? That Dominique is not just ‘any woman’ but Rand’s own feminine ideal doesn’t really answer the question and many may feel uncomfortable with the bald way in which it is presented.

There are strong performances elsewhere from Bart Siegers as Roark’s arch-enemy, the columnist Ellsworth Toohey. In the novel, Toohey is a deliciously Dickensian villain, and while Siegers is not quite what Rand may have had in mind as a physical type, he does well in embodying the ‘evil altruist’ of the book. Similarly effective are Hans Kestling as the press baron, Aus Greidanus as Roark’s rival and Frieda Pittoors as his mother.

At four hours and fifteen minutes, The Fountainhead is a long evening and I’d be lying if I said it consistently engaged the attention. It is also liable to confuse those who haven’t read the book; but, for all that, it’s still a rewarding experience on account of its daring and several excellent performances.

Reviewer - Richard Ely
on - 10/7/19