The Most Entertaining 'Gatsby' Yet

by Brett Parker

Whether or not you’ll get enjoyment out of the latest cinematic adaptation of The Great Gatsby probably hinges on whether or not you find director Baz Luhrmann to be an exhilarating visionary or a deranged lunatic.  His knack for giving old world tales an immediate contemporary energy and over-the-top glamour can either be seen as gloriously romantic or desperately shallow.  As for myself, I’ve always been a big fan of his grand style.  I was fascinated by the startling edge he brought to romantic tragedy in Romeo & Juliet and surprisingly floored by the candy-coated operatic emotions of Moulin Rouge.

Yet deep down, even Luhrmann’s biggest detractors have to concede that a Great Gatsby adaptation in his outsized hands is just what the cinematic doctor ordered for that story.  Past adaptations of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s legendary work have either been paralyzed by a scripture-like devotion to the source material (the sluggish 1974 version starring Robert Redford) or laughable in its loose liberties (the 1949 version, which owes more to Al Capone than to Scott Fitzgerald).  Since past versions have proven to be vapid in hindsight, it wouldn’t hurt to see Luhrmann infuse his beautiful decorating and swing-for-the-fences melodrama with the classic.  And I must confess that this is undoubtedly the most entertaining and gripping movie version of the novel we’ve had yet.

For those of you that flunked out of high school English, I’ll offer a brief recap of the plot:  an ambitious Yale graduate named Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire) travels from the midwest to New York in the summer of 1922 to seek a prosperous career in bonds.  In the blue-blooded village of West Egg on Long Island, he catches up with his beautiful cousin, Daisy (Carey Mulligan) who is married to old money millionaire Tom Buchanan (Joel Edgerton).  While dining in their elegant mansion and accompanying Tom on a booze-soaked rendezvous in the city, Nick starts to get a taste of the rich excesses and loose morals associated with the era now known as the “roaring 20’s.”

But Nick doesn’t get truly up-close-and-personal with the grandness of the Jazz Age until he gets invited to a gargantuan house party thrown by his neighbor, Jay Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio).  Gatsby is a mysterious millionaire who throws the wildest parties at his gigantic mansion for the entire New York social scene weekend after noisy weekend.  An articulate gentleman decked out in the most dapper styles, no one can really pin down Gatsby’s backstory, especially where he gets the money to throw such ridiculous parties.  As Nick tries to get acquainted with his new neighbor, it becomes clear that the mystery man holds a curious history with Daisy and has a burning obsession with her that’s fueling a elaborate romantic plot in his head.  As Gatsby tries to reconcile with and romanticize Daisy with Nick’s help, things shockingly careen from care-free exuberance to soul-crushing tragedy.  

There are those that hold Fitzgerald’s novel in holy revere as one of the greatest in all American literature, and I happen to be one of those people.  I went gaga for the book when I discovered it in high school and I’ve read it once a year ever since I was sixteen.  So believe me, no one went to see this movie with a bigger red pen than myself.  But I honestly found very little to object to.  I appreciated the way Luhrmann threw subtlety into the fire and allowed the screen to lose itself in the rabid excitement and overwhelming emotions one feels when reading the novel for the first time.  Luhrmann’s taste for dizzying hyperrealities actually suits the wild, gorgeous energy of the roaring 20’s quite well: the outfits pop with dandified colors, the lavish New York landscape has the beauty of an old world painting, and the party scenes have a reckless abandon that’s as intoxicating as the booze being consumed.  One of the unspoken truths about the novel is that if it weren’t for Fitzgerald’s elegant prose and keen insights, the plot itself would slightly resemble a soap opera.  And since Luhrmann’s calling card is making soap opera stories vibrant and lyrical, you realize he does more to assist Fitzgerald’s ideas than to harm them.  

The only two things I really have to complain about, oddly, have to do with hip-hop and historical atmosphere.  Like Moulin Rouge, Luhrmann anachronistically employs modern day songs to help contemporary audiences feel the thrill that people of a past era felt when listening to their own music.  Songs by Lana Del Rey and Florence & The Machine fit wonderfully into the narrative, and I was surprised by the way an electric dance track by Fergie helped energize a infectious party scene at Gatsby’s mansion.  But tracks featuring Jay-Z prove to be a jarring mistake.  I love Jay-Z’s music, but proclaiming his songs as being in-sync with the Jazz Age is a hell of a stretch.  It sounds as if the New Jack City soundtrack has been played over random scenes in Gone With the Wind.  Such an incongruity makes one also ponder if the atmosphere itself is a tad too cartoonish for its own good.  While the world we see is certainly an enticing fever dream of the 1920’s, it’s not exactly a recognizable part of America’s historical reality.  

But these really are just minor complaints, for whatever lumpiness the film runs into, there are wonderful performances here to guide you through.  DiCaprio is quite honestly the best Gatsby there’s ever been.  He’s polished up his sunny matinee idol looks to superbly heat up Gatsby’s shiny exterior, yet it’s the actor’s experience in playing isolated eccentrics and riled-up obsessives that bring acute urgency to the character’s decidedly disturbing inner-life.  Mulligan makes for a wonderful Daisy by shrewdly allowing her fragility to simultaneously suggest a delicate beauty and spoiled child.  Edgerton displays the correct physical presence and brutish confidence to convey Tom Buchanan’s assured arrogance.  And I was surprised at how much power and feeling an ideally cast Maguire blasts into Nick Carraway.  If the narrator of this tale proved to be too timid and passive in past adaptations, then it’s refreshing to see Maguire exposing the fraught nerves and curious heartache within a man forced to witness the moral decay surrounding him.  

Literary purists can rest easy knowing that Fitzgerald’s novel is too towering to be hindered by the efficiency or incompetence of a filmed adaptation. While Fitzgerald in his lifetime had certain reservations about the art of film, and would undoubtedly shake his head at certain passages in this adaptation, I think he would’ve marveled at the extravagant shrine Luhrmann built to his words and been overall happy to see that his thoughts about modernity are still honored in these modern times.  As a true lover of the novel, it’s rather hard not to get seduced by Luhrmann’s gaga love for the era and material, and as a cinephile, it’s hard not to get caught up in such an outrageous explosion of vintage sights and sounds.