Ryan McNeil
For a few days leading into my screening of Baz Luhrmann’s THE GREAT GATSBY, I found myself thinking back on the first time I read it back in high school. I thought about all the symbolism discussion surrounding green lights and expensive shirts. I remember my teacher trying to impart upon us the themes of hollowness and obsession. I can’t say that all of these lessons took at the time, but I can say that I’ve thought about the book since then, and even re-read it a few times.
In my further readings, what has jumped out at me is this idea:
“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”
For all I know, it’s a line my teacher tried to make me take notice of the first time. What I do know, is that it’s a line Baz Luhrmann has taken to heart as he attempted to adapt the great American novel.
For those who haven’t read the book, THE GREAT GATSBY is about a young man named Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire). Carraway has been invited to spend the summer with his cousin Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan) and her husband Tom (Joel Edgerton). Upon joining them, and their friend Jordan (Elizabeth Debicki) in West Egg, NY, talk immediately turns to Carraway’s mysterious neighbour – Jay Gatsby.
Stories abound about him – that he’s a war hero, that he killed a man. There are more stories than reports as very few ever see him, and even fewer truly know him. All that is known for sure is that he throws some of the most extravagant parties in a time where America was leading the league in extravagant parties.
It’s at one of these parties that Nick finally comes face to face with Gatsby himself (Leo DiCaprio). Gatsby takes a shining to his new neighbour, in part because he sees Carraway as a way to get closer to Daisy. Turns out Daisy is a long-lost love, and despite seemingly having the world at his feet, Jay Gatsby is a man who is obsessed with that which he cannot have.
This story tells the tale of his valiant effort to finally get a grasp on that one great obsession.
What Baz Luhrmann’s THE GREAT GATSBY seems to want most is balance. It wants balance between decadence and intimacy, balance between splendour and solitude, balance between love and loss. It wonders aloud how to get to that sweet spot – how to fill the shelves with books, but not bother to split the pages.
Strange as this sounds to say, there seems to be a few moments where Luhrmann has trouble nailing the excesses. The large gala that acts as the centrepiece of the film’s first act is perfect. It nails the sort of opulence a “Gatsby Party” would put forth, and fills the screen with visual splendour. We can taste the bubbly, we can smell the caviar, and we can almost feel the throng of hundreds of people pressed together and cutting loose. Its music is perfect, allowing the entire scene to strike the tone we have all seen in our imaginations since we first read this book in the twelfth grade.
However, when it comes to the two smaller affairs – one drink-up in Myrtle’s apartment, and the speakeasy where Tom and Gatsby meet with Wolfsheim – something seems off. In both cases, there is a disconnect between the tone the scene is striking, and the realities of the stage they are striking it on. The body language of those involved and the pounding rhythms suggest one thing, but the spacious rooms around them disagree. These moments of excess feel jarring, especially in stark contrast to the perfectly captured excess at Gatsby’s lavish house party.
While the film might fumble through these moments, all of that is offset by the want and sadness on display in the film’s quieter moments. Carraway describes the unease the ringing telephone causes at dinner, with all of the guests knowing that Tom’s mistress is the one on the line. The scene is played in a way that allows us to feel that unease as well – allowing us to look around the table at the troubled glances with the shrill ring of the phone keeping time over it all.
Then there’s the portrayal of Gatsby himself. DiCaprio seems born to play this role, finding just the right mix of confidence, solitude, desire and unease. It’s not just that he looks great in a suit (which he does), or can naturally punctuate sentences with “old sport” (which he can). It’s the way he can look at that green light across the bay with a genuine expression of want. It’s the way in which he can confidently talk an entire team of servants through redecorating Carraway’s cottage for Daisy’s arrival, but then shift nervously before she knocks on the door. Some actors might be able to nail the glamour of Jay Gatsby, others the uncertainty. DiCaprio embodies both.
This theme of desire and regret is what makes Fitzgerald’s novel so amazing, therefore the fact that the film nails it as well as it does allows it to succeed too. The way he guides these characters through their performances allows him to strike just the right note of sadness. It stands in stark contrast to all of those splendid clothes and wild parties, and plays with the right amount of sadness. Luhrmann understands just what tragedy the myth Gatsby built for himself would lead to, a tragedy that comes through arrogance, dishonesty, and want. It can be seen in the way Gatsby never acknowledges just how broken he is, and in the way Daisy can’t bring herself to forsake all she knows, even if it means she could have so much more.
Jay Gatsby is a man who uses excess to misdirect attention away from how broken he is. He never wants anyone to see that blank stare and that lonely disposition. What’s interesting is that THE GREAT GATSBY sometimes struggles with the excess, but nails the brokenness. It might not be the film people expect, but they should expect it if they’ve read the book. It struggles for balance at times – searching for the sweet spot between style and substance. When it matters most it finds its footing, knowing that it’s far more important to evoke true sadness than to portray a pretty party.
I liked the movie, though Baz Luhrmann’s style is starting to get a bit predictable and boring: You have a very light MTV-esque first half, before getting more serious in the second. It really seemed at times (especially in the scene in Myrtle’s apartment) that Luhrmann was trying to make this film MOULIN ROUGE 2.
When I read the book in high school, an element that stood out the most for me was the very stereotypical (almost anti-semitic) Jewish portrayal of Meyer Wolfsheim, complete with Fitzgerald phonetically spelling his heavily accented dialog. That’s why I’m quite interested that Luhrmann cast an Indian actor in the role. One one hand, the re-ethnicitizing alleviates some of the stereotypes, though if the character is still supposed to be Jewish, it sort of makes them worse.
I think part of what you were feeling leans more on the source material than on Luhrmann’s way of filming it. Both MOULIN ROUGE! and ROMEO + JULIET were far more spastic in their first acts than this film was.
Also, MTV isn’t all that “MTV-esque” anymore.
Yeah, it’s partially the source material, but EVERY Luhrmann film (even Australia) is formatted the same way.
Also, “MTV-esque” is a generalization.
Kudos for a well written and thought out review, Ryan. Nicely said.
I disagree about the movie, though, I didnt think the drama was given time to breathe. The flash and the style left me feeling as though the film was empty… the narration took any thought or interpretation of of play, and the actors had their work cut out for them getting across in the midst of all the showiness. DiCaprio was great (as always) but all in all, it left me flat. 🙁
Interesting – I was actually rather smitten with what Mulligan and Maguire were doing in addition to what Leo brought to the table. Then again, I also thought that the film toned down its showiness quite a great deal in the second half.
The critical trashing this film got was undeserved. It’s not a perfect film, but very few are.
Agreed. Beginning to wonder if people are reviewing it in comparison to the book, or worse, reviewing it in comparison to the film they wanted.
I saw it today and I thought it was good. Yeah, it had some flaws where I agreed with Sean on what he stated but I had fun watching it.
Exactly – if you listen to the Matineecast I posted today, I actually speak a bit more about some of the flaws I found…mostly stylistic choices.
The only thing that really bothered me about the film was the need to punctuate all of the great visual metaphors and imagery from the text on screen as well as with voice-over (and sometimes with text).
Other than that, I agree with your review completely. Perfect movie to inaugurate the summer blockbuster season.
I thought about that too, but then I ended up chalking it to Baz wanting to celebrate Fitzgerald’s words. He never really did that with Shakespeare – where it might have worked well – and even here he only did it sparingly.
Great review, and I completely agree. Reviewers get so engrossed in movies not meeting their expectations when a novel is involved, and this film definitely had negative preconceived notions when the buzz about it first began. I loved it, and I’m one of few. I think it’s important for people to realize this is a modern interpretation, and Baz Luhrmann is the director! I agree with your comment above…Moulin Rouge and Romeo+Juliet were significantly more manic, yet people are freaking out with Gatsby’s style as if they’ve never seen a Luhrmann film before. BTW, totally stealing your quote from the novel for my review…it’s so perfect.
Your review has all those snappy-lookin’ gif’s. I suddenly feel inadequate.
I really think that this film is having trouble getting past perceptions – both perceptions of its source, and perceptions of its director. I actually read a piece in the Toronto Star where the cultural reporter said “There’s nothing one can say that will convince me to go see THE GREAT GATSBY”. That’s stellar journalism, wouldn’t you say?
Oh well – haters gonna hate, amiright?
Great review Ryan! This film is unfairly maligned by [jaded] critics. I mean yes it’s ‘style over substance’ as most Baz’ films are but in this case, it’s kind of the point isn’t it? I love what you said here…”… THE GREAT GATSBY sometimes struggles with the excess, but nails the brokenness…” I think so too, that scene of no one but Gatsby and Nick in his palatial living room and Nick almost falling asleep on his grand staircase is so heartbreaking. Gatsby is the ultimate tragic figure.
Like Joanna mentions below, I don’t think GATSBY really is style over substance. I mean, it’s very handsome of course, but in comparison to MR! and R+J, is down right restrained. So I wonder if some are getting hung up on the aesthetic not seeing the work that likewise went into adapting the story for the big screen.
We are 100 percent in agreement. I keep telling people this film was Tame for Luhrmann. If you think about the first 30 minutes of Moulin Rouge, with its almost cacophonous visuals and constant EVERYTHINGNESD, this is pretty toned down (and just what the text requires.) people who criticize it for overthetopness aren’t remembering the full intense Ness if his earlier work, though I will say that he does seem to enjoy the excess a little when that’s the opposite of the point in the book. You are very right that the excess scenes are somehow not quite right, and maybe that’s his nod to it Not Being All That It Seems.
No love for Mulligan in here is my only surprise, but I’m glad you note Leo’s ability to go from boyish joy to secretive socialite. Check plus!
Ps I hate when people say his films are style over substance. They are both, and one informs the other. Especially here.
I really should have spent a few more words on Mulligan, especially for what she brings to the table in the late-going. There’s a longing in her that we haven’t seen from Miss Mulligan yet, and it leaves me all the more excited to see what she can do later this year with INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS (which looks to be even *more* of a departure).
I could watch her performance in the shirt scene and the ice scene on a loop.
Oh, and as you can see from my note to Ruth above, I completely agree with ya that this is NOT an example of style-over-substance.