One of the best things currently in our life is that the pieces of entertainment that torment us and cause us to deliver long rants in person or in video can eventually be made for the better. Such is the case for myself with F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. I loathe the so-called Great American Novel ever since I was a lad, detesting every character, their motivations and dreams, and all of its boring metaphors and allegories. Eventually, thanks to creative and resourceful minds, the novel has been recently modified to be more digestible for my palette, whether it is the mocking series of comic strips wonderfully written and drawn by Kate Beaton or the peculiar notion to adapt it into a NES video game. Is Baz Luhrmann's version of THE GREAT GATSBY able to join these distinctive ranks? A slight yes and a decisive no.
For the first third of the film, where we are sadly introduced to the viewpoint of our narrator Nick Carraway and the first of many extravagant parties run by the titled character, the flamboyant director is able to bring new life and energy to the ancient text. The high excesses and gaudiness of the 1920's, combined with the many anachronisms implemented to give it a modern swing, give the cinematic debauchery a nice looney tunes vibe. All of the money, all of the frivolous lifestyles and decisions of our characters are presented as wasteful as they aught to be. The moral code of everyone is jaded beyond belief: Nick is a glorified goon and yes-man for either Gatsby or his cousin-in-law Tom Buchanan, Gatsby is willing to commit adultery due to his teenage-like hormones, Daisy has no internal presence to speak of or fond for, Tom is a snidely wolf in sheep's clothing, and Jordan Baker is a running party animal who likes to bounce around.
However, once Nick is able to bring Gatsby and his lost love Daisy together one rainy afternoon, the film simply enters into autopilot. Luhrmann shuts down the glitzy and crazy train so viewers can be forced into believing the mighty power of love that apparently resides in the two hollow vessels. Seriousness is the name of the game for the rest of the film despite the still heightened performances and luscious production/costume design. It is as if all of the unions of high school teachers protested to Warner Bros to make the film appropriate for the classroom and to prevent any further seizure outbreaks from their students.
Even with the tonal whiplash, Lurhmann made even more egregious decisions to infuriate anyone. The die-hard fans of the book, who weren't already turned off by the inclusion of rap and dubstep, will find that their beloved text is slapped around in all of the wrong places; key lines are either thrown away under other blaring noises and/or inserted into other scenes. Also, many of the book's memorable moments are still unable to translate well to the big screen, most particularly the horrible final lines between Gatsby and Nick. Luhrmann and his co-writer Craig Pearce also wished to insert new fan material to jazz up their interpretation. The film starts with a broken down Nick at a sanatorium, asked by his psychiatrist to write out his troubling life in New York on the typewriter. If you instantly guessed that he be writing the novel, congratulations on earning one point. You would have gotten the grand prize if you also spotted that this is complete retread of Luhrmann and Pearce's script for MOULIN ROUGE! Holy Eric Roth, what a fine display of self-plagiarism.
The script problems don't just end there because the two wanted to make sure all of the guts are to be sprayed all about. For this adaptation, Luhrmann wanted to hammer home the homoerotic subtext between Nick and Gatsby, making sure to close up constantly on the poor boy's longing face and piercing stare. Since Nick can only love men, or as the film calls it "likes to watch", Luhrmann and Pearce decided to severely undercut all of the female characters. Despite being a major character and the MacGuffin, Daisy is often muted and given no screen time for her importance. Jordan Baker is practically exorcised from the second half and her relationship with Nick is just friends at best. But the crowning achievement of bad writing is for Myrtle Wilson, the mistress of Tom and who proves to be a key feature in the later chapters. Four scenes and a paltry number of lines are all she and her performer, the vastly underrated Isla Fisher, are given to work with. Because Myrtle is underwritten and her affair time with Tom boils down to only one instance, this results in an unbelievable hypocrisy of the earnest intentions of the film; Gatsby and Daisy have an entire summer to hump around yet Tom is still labeled as the bad guy.
I was largely and obviously bored by the story and its many changes, though to be fair not as much as the 1974 version, but if there was one saving grace through the tougher times, it was certainly Leonardo DiCaprio. The man was able to deliver the best three-dimensions of the Gatsby character, both as a mega-charismatic, mysterious charmer and as a young fool unable to change or return to the past. Even when crafting a drinking game with every delivery of the phrase "old sport", the dynamic actor was always able to make hearts skip a beat and melt the cheese nicely. Joel Edgerton comes in at second as Tom, making the braggart more lovably and humanly then he's supposed to be. I found myself rooting him on more here due to Edgerton despite the character's belligerent attitudes to racism, which comes into serious question due to Luhrmann's direction since he is present at a black-populated bar in an early scene. And again, as stated above, since the men are the main show, none of the female actors are given any care or concentration, which proves double for Cary Mulligan whose Daisy is far more aggressive that she should be. The only male actor unable to shine is Tobey Maguire as Nick. Still waiting for a perfect non-superhuman adult role, the man frankly looks like a spruced-up teenager and his world-weariness might work in a community theater production but certainly not here.
The only thing I haven't mentioned enough is the film's musical direction. I honestly was never really bothered by it at all to prove itself distracting. The Jay-Z songs were odd ducklings but they eventually and quickly were phased out. By then, Luhrmann wanted to include more melancholic pieces sung by the likes of Florence + The Machine and Lana Del Rey, which proved to be far more effective in expressing star-crossed love than the actual love of the story. The true highlight is the ending theme "Together" by the xx, a song that haunts like the forever blinking green light and will borne you back ceaselessly. If there is one thing always to be fondly expected by Baz Luhrmann, it is a fine soundtrack.
FINAL REVIEW: 2 / 5
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