CiNEMERCATOR - King Vidor The Fountainhead 1949
Filmlover,
Merthe Voorhoeve,
Andreas van Riet,
Maaike Hasselaar
& Elisabeth van Vliet,
each are programming 1 precious film per month. That's 4 precious films per month =
CiNEMERCATOR
doors open 19:00
start 20:00
ticket 3€
11-3
King Vidor The Fountainhead 1949
The Fountainhead (1949), directed by King Vidor and based on Ayn Rand’s 1943 novel, is a film of fierce conviction. Emerging in the early years of the Cold War, it carries the tone of its time: ideological, declarative, unafraid of grand statements about the individual and society.
Rand adapted her own novel for the screen, preserving much of its philosophical spine. The story follows Howard Roark, an uncompromising architect who refuses to bend his designs to popular taste. In both book and film, Roark stands as the embodiment of radical individualism. The narrative is less concerned with realism than with principle. Characters serve as positions in an argument.
Visually, Vidor embraces monumentality. Architecture is filmed as destiny: stark lines, towering structures, clean horizons. The climactic courtroom speech- lifted almost verbatim from the novel- is staged not as subtle drama but as proclamation. It is less about persuasion than declaration.
Whether one agrees with Rand’s philosophy or not, the film stands as a clear artifact of postwar American thought: ambitious, ideological, and unapologetically serious about the power of the lone creator.
Andreas' choice
11-3
Adam Shankman HAIRSPRAY 2007
If Hairspray were a person, it would burst into the room already mid-dance, glitter in its hair, convinced the party improves because it showed up. Director Adam Shankman takes the musical version of John Waters’ original prankish idea and turns it into a candy-colored explosion that runs a breezy 117 minutes without ever quite catching its breath.
Set in 1962 Baltimore, the film follows Tracy Turnblad, a teenager whose ambitions are gloriously specific: dance on a local TV show, defeat racial segregation, and keep her hair as high as municipal law allows. The plot moves like a jukebox that’s been kicked into overdrive. Songs spill out one after another, each brighter and cheekier than the last.
What makes the film such a delight is its shamelessness. It knows musicals are ridiculous and leans into it with a wink. Dresses spin like pinwheels, dance numbers erupt in supermarkets and detention halls, and the camera glides through choreography as if it too had swallowed a spoonful of sugar.
Yet beneath the bubblegum surface sits a sly heart. Hairspray smuggles the politics of integration and media spectacle into a story about teenagers who simply want to dance together. The film’s argument is disarmingly simple: prejudice looks especially foolish when surrounded by this much rhythm.
Maaikes' choice
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