Purists be damned, Baz Luhrman’s The Great Gatsby first soars with visual gymnastics, then knows enough to settle down for crunchtime. Swanky and gaudy, this version of the F. Scott Fitzgerald classic stays faithful to the text yet adds a dimension sure to piss off those who’ve sought to canonize the original text. Before you call Luhrman the insensitive brute who would disgracefully desecrate Fitzgerald with anachronistic flourishes like a Jay-Z-helmed soundtrack, though, remember the 1920s were culturally revolutionary like probably no other decade. Luhrman successfully jars the viewer into a stunned disbelief while beholding the spectacle. Cameras sweep and surge, confetti and fireworks and exaggerated (ARE they?) crowd scenes give reinventing a new meaning. None of it seems outside the theme of Fitzgerald’s holding a mirror to the opulent American spirit. He both celebrates the singular romantic vision of a reinvented rags-to-riches Gatsby and, finally, laments the hollowness of that idyllic-to-a-fault vision.
Of course if you’re here for a movie and not a Great Books lesson, let your hair down and have a little fun.
When Luhrman drops Jay-Z for Gershwin, and finally introduces us to our main character, it’s as if God has arrived in West Egg. Partygoers, mostly who’ve never laid eyes on Gatsby, set up the grand entrance of Leonardo DiCaprio, Scorsese’s favorite frontman, and now easily the finest Gatsby to come to the screen in this, the fourth screen rendition of the novel. You’re probably looking at an Oscar-caliber performance. He makes a rare appearance at one of his over-the-top parties with the intention of meeting his new neighbor, Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire). Come to find out, it’s Carraway’s cousin, Daisy Buchanan, who lives directly across the bay in old-money East Egg, who Gatsby has really got his eye on. Seems they share a past. As Daisy, Carey Mulligan nails both the vulnerability and ordinariness of Daisy. In the film’s pivotal scene, in the Plaza Hotel in New York, she gets figuratively tossed around like a ping pong ball by her all-or-nothing romantic pursuer Gatsby, and her brutish yet cleverly calculating husband, Tom (Joel Edgerton). A victim of the age when women were virtually powerless to shape an identity independent of the men upon which they relied, she’s a tragic figure in her own right. It is sad yet plausible in its context, that she can no more live up to the impossible pedestal Gatsby places on her, than she can make a decision to save him from his fate at the film’s climax.
DiCaprio keeps us invested in his character until the very end. Like Nick, we get wrapped up in his optimism, his focus, even his pigheadedness. His gaze never leaves the green beacon emanating from Daisy’s place. Like a good magician, he distracts the viewer with His Act. It is only after his demise that we realize we’ve been duped. You can’t redo the past, after all. His partner in deception, Luhrman has a leering final word: while Carraway writes out his text in 3D splendor, he ostentatiously adds the word “Great” to his finished title and manuscript….Great as in grand rather than excellent? The same might be said for Luhrman’s best-yet film rendition of a book that, until now, one might have thought lent itself only to stodgy adaptations.
4 Hammering Yet Tender Takes on America’s Gatsby (out of 5)