With Francis Ford Coppola’s The Great Gatsby in 1974 being too literal, Baz Luhrman’s adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s magnum opus for American Literature is too much and, equally, not enough.
Perhaps my previous dislike for the book (yes, don’t hate me) clouds my ability to judge this year’s widely-discussed screen adaptation. On the bare surface, the obvious subject matter in The Great Gatsby could attract filmmakers like tragic love to the poets: combining the decadence and moral disgust of the obscenely rich, with the struggle for (or in) true love.
As Luhrman says in 60 Minutes, the Twenties “was a golden orgy of money: women’s skirts went up, skyscrapers went up, the stock market – everything was going up.” He wisely added that, as Fitzgerald’s story was published in 1925, the author predicted that it would all crash – as it did in the Depression.
Here’s a quick inventory of what could describe Luhrman’s latest visual glamour-bomb: champagne, fireworks, diamonds, chrome, martinis littering piano surfaces and marble railings like party favors, flapper girls and dames in sequined and satin costumes, jazz bands in tuxedos, palace-sized mansions, mega-pixeled colors, and all kinds of booze. And tinsel. Tinsel everywhere. It was like a New Year’s Eve party, hosted by P. Diddy, or Jay-Z (a true Gatsby figure in the fact that he’s as innovatively, favorably nouveau-riche as this generation can provide), and crewed by MTV.
I admit that I was enraptured and excited by the scenes featuring Gatsby’s parties. I was further seduced by Leo DiCaprio’s Gatsby. The best part was the frantic, heart-stuttering moments leading up to his breathless reunion with Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan). In that scene was embarrassing, anxious-excited situational humor. The ridiculousness of a millionaire’s eccentricities bled out for the audience’s delight, seeing Gatsby’s coolness crack under the pressure of an old but heady crush.
I fell in love with DiCaprio as Gatsby, wanted to be romanced by him. Dicaprio’s easily one of the best actors of our time. He’s got the most successful multi-faceted acting careers out there (Titanic, The Aviator, Inception, Shutter Island, The Basketball Diaries, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?, Blood Diamond, Gangs in New York, The Departed, Need I Say More?). He’s mastered the perfect balance of impassivity, dignity, weakness, emotional instability, grief, greed, malice, and whatever’s hard to imitate on its own; yet he can probably do them all at once. Where Redford performed the title role like a golden statue, impassive and too-godlike, DiCaprio can do like a faceted jewel.
DiCaprio not only acts brilliantly, but he adjusts to each director’s style. He tailors his physique and mannerisms to not just to Jay Gatsby, but indeed Luhrman’s Gatsby.
What’s important to note is that, with Jay Gatsby’s endless love for Daisy, another relationship is rather overlooked, despite its consistency in the novel: the narrator Nick Carraway’s fascination-turned-admiration for the self-made millionaire. Carraway, played by Tobey Maguire, is carefully iconic enough to have carried the role to its proper weight.
There are changes to his portrayal from the novel, however. Another example of too-literal-ness is when Carraway’s narration takes a too-physical form. Carraway is introduced in the beginning of the film, reminiscing on his time spent as Gatsby’s friend in the 1920s, but he is a broken man, treated for depression and alcoholism in a sanitarium. It’s not enough that Carraway could be portrayed as looking back into the past, the “good old days.” He has to have a physical effect from Gatsby’s downfall. No subtlety there. Is it not enough that Carraway’s narration of the past is told in a nostalgic tone, but that he has to suffer from drastic demons?
Come on, Luhrman, have some appreciation for subtlety. I can’t recall that the 1974 Gatsby had Carraway doing-voice-overs in which he read from the book’s text (because the words are just that good, and apparently cannot be parted from). It definitely could’ve been done away with, as could the visual of the novel’s text: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
Luhrman’s casting of Tobey Maguire as Carraway to DiCaprio’s Gatsby worked very well. These two actors have been long-time friends before they were made famous. Also, DiCaprio first starred in Luhrman’s modern-day rendition of Romeo + Juliet in 1997, right before he was immortalized in Titanic.
I like the contemporary music fusing with the 1920s time era. It’s different, and especially daring. When I think of the lifestyles of the rich and the famous, I primarily think of rap stars with their ridiculous amount of gold, furs, booze and infamy – and also their offensively obvious amount of BLING. Where rock stars are rebels, rap stars are lions, sitting pretty on their entourages and inarguable reputations as kings. That’s also a way to describe Gatsby. He slunk away to gain his riches, and suddenly, here he arrives with a mansion that could make Disney CEOs salivate with theme park offers. Further, he treads onto the Buchanan “pride” with a desire to claim the lioness, Daisy (though fearless and independent she is not).
Besides, the rap stuck to the party montages. Lana Del Rey’s siren song “Young and Beautiful” is the main (repetitive) theme, and Florence + the Machine’s “Over the Love” could be heard floating in the dark camera shots.
I watched Joel Edgerton with more appreciation than Carey Mulligan. I never liked Daisy as a character. And yes, Tom Buchanan is a definitive bully of a stock character, but Joel Edgerton, a new player into the acting field, commands the role with equal ease and innovation. There was something more humanlike in him.
The scene involving Myrtle and the car crash was so dreamlike that the heaviness of the moment barely translated to the audience. It should’ve been stark, not…well, whimsical.
Luhrman may have gone over-the-top with Romeo + Juliet, a more well-known story than Gatsby, but Shakespeare’s most well-known play has been adapted and reinvented for centuries. There are few versions of Gatsby adaptations come to life, so the idea of creating a rebelliously stylish version is, understandably, not welcome. Gatsby is a precious novel to English majors, teachers and writers. Fitzgerald’s singular star of American Literature is indeed so beautifully written that it is almost lyrical.
There’s so much going on. Maybe the trailer’s just greatly misleading (the traitorous Iron Man 3 comes to mind), but it’s almost a whirlwind of 3D, iconic cast members, decadent shots and locations, and modern music. The best way to describe tailoring this film down to a more view-able perfection would be to trim off the sequined trim and patterned rosettes of a gown, maintaining the shape, or the theme, of the total piece.
Gatsby was a pretty spot-on commentary on the social era. Fitzgerald bravely painted the picture of how the enjoyment of the Roaring Twenties would come crashing down. He also revealed the gilded nature of the elite’s perfect lives – there was deep-rooted unhappiness, resentment, greed and infidelity. To embellish a near-satirical story with a more brilliant vision on why it’s so great to be rich would probably diminish the heart of the film, the message that the moviegoer is supposed to be clenched by as they walk out of the theater. Sometimes the heavy-hearted realization of the theme is not the same as it occurs when one flips to the last page of the book.
But alas, if an aesthetic explanation like that could stop a film from being made, then the world would be bereft of a lot (A LOT) of films.
This is How They Roll 