The Great Gatsby (2013): A Bombastic, Memorable Misfire
A 10 year retrospective on Baz Luhrmann’s misguided spectacle
For all of its gaudy showmanship, The Great Gatsby is a movie as extravagant as the peaks of the era it depicts even while the sum struggles to soar beyond its parts. Though it’s been duly criticized for its excessive bombast and vainglorious visual direction, I think it suits the subject matter at hand well.
Though F. Scott Fitzgerald’s source material is still considered by many as one of history’s great novels and holds an enduring place in my own heart, the older I grow, the more I can see that the man who wrote it was only a few years older than myself. The language on display is fantastic, but it exudes prowess more than wisdom. His words lack much of the prudence of a writer with a few more decades of experience under his belt; few who knew him were willing to vouch for the famed writer’s maturity, after all. But he died before turning 45, so it’s the ebullience of an impassioned young man that will always define his words.
His youthful exuberance colors so much of the work he was able to create before his untimely departure. In The Great Gatsby, he romanticizes the era with the wide-eyed optimism of a young and ambitious man. There’s an element to the text that feels fast-paced and disjointed. Even while his mismatching is masterful, it reads like the work of the prodigious young author he was. Fitzgerald’s naive enthusiasm is impressively well recaptured in Baz Luhrmann’s take on the roaring 20s novel.
The exaggerated cinematography, popping colors, and 3D effects provide a good home to the raucous revelry of the time on display. The jumpy and disordered camera serves it well as it capitalizes on the parties within the titular Gatsby’s enormous fortress of a home. Luhrmann’s 20s-set spectacle follows in the visual footsteps of other films in his repertoire, like Romeo & Juliet and Moulin Rouge.
It’s difficult to fathom, though, that Fitzgerald would approve of the Jay-Z-laden soundtrack that jarringly lattices the film. But for the seamless integration of Lana Del Ray’s “Young and Beautiful” during one of its most soulful moments, there’s no anachronism I’m unwilling to forgive.
If we can forget that the soundtrack is more suited to a film from a different era, they’re well-chosen for the moods at hand. Were Jay-Z alive in the time of flappers, I think it’s a safe bet his music would be the backdrop to these explosive, lascivious sorts of parties. To fill these scenes with music more appropriate to the time at hand simply might not convey the intended effect. For the generations that grew up on pop and hip-hop, they’re likely to find even the most exciting hits of yesteryear a little hokey and tame.
A more timely array of music would have an unfortunate way of alienating younger viewers. And for a story depicted on film more times than I can count on a single hand, I think it’s fair that this adaptation be focused on the younger viewer.
Many of the most interesting song renditions are the ones which borrow little more than the melody from the original, cultivating feels and soundscapes all their own. And that’s what The Great Gatsby is — a modern take on a well-known story. It lacks the subtlety of the prior attempts, and not all of the characterizations are as effective. The characters feel exaggerated and not always the easiest to believe. But in their theatricality, the movie pays a certain homage to the acting styles of prior generations. Even while the modern visual flair never seems to relent, there’s a dated charm to the characters that’s very effective in moments.
In others, Leonardo DiCaprio’s frenzied, frenetic speaking appears a little stilted and falls short of imparting the charisma that Robert Redford’s Gatsby conveyed. But his hollow, forced affect does wonders in imparting the sort of detachment that comes with inconceivable wealth. At moments, his utter aloofness is something simply painful for the viewer to even watch.
DiCaprio vacillates erratically between extremes of emotion — in moments charming and charismatic in his attempts to court Daisy, and in others discomfiting and desperate as his life of facades begins to falter and crumble. By the time the rekindled fire between the two returns to ash, Dicaprio’s portrayal of the lovesick and enigmatic magnate spirals pitifully into chaos.
Tobey Macguire’s Nick Carraway is adequate but unremarkable, and Carey Mulligan and Elizabeth Debicki each do well in their respective roles as Daisy Buchanan and Jordan Baker. Mulligan’s sensitive and submissive portrayal of Daisy helps to drive home a powerful poignance about the disparities of this bygone time. She’s timid, mousy, and her screen time is magnetic. Debicki portrays Baker with sass, grace, and mystique.
Growing up only a few houses away from one of the country’s remaining yet faded Gilded Age mansions myself, The Great Gatsby is a movie that’s always had a unique appeal for me. While I see the film’s flaws, what it depicts is a deeply flawed and ostentatious era. Much of the movie’s flair feels intentional. The striking similarities between the mansion depicted in the movie and the one in my own neighborhood have instilled the visual ride through this idealized Jazz Era with a vicarious sort of thrill.
Lynnewood Hall, built by Horace Trombauer before the turn of the century, still stands as the longest home in all of America from left to right. Boasting, back in its heyday, an indoor pool, five separate art galleries, a basketball court, ballroom, race car track, chapel, and its own coal-fired power plant, it’s a home still uniformly embellished with a level of luxury and detail that soars beyond the properties of most kings and despots.
But for my entire life, it’s sat in a state of disrepair with vines climbing up the ornate stone walls. And each time I watch The Great Gatsby, I can’t help but see this lifeless property begin to teem again with the fantastical parties it once housed on a near-weekly basis.
Many movies need to do little more than impart a few beautiful images to hold an enduring spot in my heart. And Baz Luhrman alongside cinematographer Simon Duggan manage to impart more than their share of striking scenes and vignettes throughout its nearly two-and-a-half-hour runtime. It’s a movie with quite a few magical moments, but in the final act still struggles to stick its landing. But in this story about Gatsby, wealth, and the vices of aimless ambition, the oblique ending is arguably part of its allure.
From the dizzying, spastic driving scenes and Dr. T.J. Eckleburg’s eyes, to the colossal mansions and their glitzy, flashy excess, the movie cultivates an impressive environment from its opening moments. While parts of the plot fall short, the revolving light that glares at the end of Daisy’s dock, forever beckoning to the lonely baron across the water, is an image that’s left an indelible impression on me all the same.
Always felt there should have been a party performer named Dr. DJ Eckleburg on the ones and twos.
Fromtheyardtothearthouse.substack.com
I'd forgotten this was by Baz Luhrmann. I should watch it again.