Tonight for the first time I got to see the movie version of Rand's famous play, Night of January 16th. Rand thought it was an awful movie. Of her play, only one line of dialog was left. Something about the court adjourning.
A few elements of the original are left, but none of the abstract meaning, and precious little of the story itself. Bjorn Faulkner remains as a swindler trying to fake his own death.
As Duncan Scott said, after experiencing this sort of butchery the first time something of hers was filmed, it's no wonder she insisted on full control later.
It's kind of like the drama
Suffered a serious trauma.
In this film, her fabulous fiction
Was smashed beyond recognition.
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