What makes a novel "unfilmable"? For me, it's when a novel deals more in ideas than plot, when symbolism figures heavily into the novel, and when the prose is so beautiful, it simply can't be replicated in any meaningful way on the silver screen.
In many ways, Baz Luhrmann is the ideal director for the latest screen adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Who better to direct a story about the consequences of opulence and extreme fixation than one of the most stylistically opulent directors whose stories invariably focus on intense and fixated love? Yet, ironically, the failures of the film are predictable when one reviews Luhrmann's previous works.
Luhrmann, a director I do like, succeeded in his adaptation of Romeo and Juliet because his style was new and fresh at the time: anachronistic, hyperactive, colorful and fast-paced. And even though the film romanticized what is a very misunderstood plot (two teens commit suicide--it's a tragedy, not a love story for the ages), the youthful intensity of pre-Titanic Leo and post-My So-Called Life Claire made the short-lived romance between the characters burn. Come on. That scene where they kiss in the elevator? My 12 year old self knew is was fucking hot, and my 27 year old self still knows it's hot. Chemistry, man.
Likewise, Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge! also worked. First of all, Luhrmann could go as crazy as he wanted because there was no story that the film was based on. And the setting--turn of the century Paris--was begging for Luhrmann's frenetic style. And once again, the leads had enormous chemistry. Ewan McGregor's optimistic bohemian who is destroyed by the loss of his love and Nicole Kidman's jaded courtesan are as believable as they could be in a film as theatrical and costumey as Mouiln Rouge!
Unfortunately, Luhrmann's style doesn't work with The Great Gatsby. The novel, which can truly be called the (or, at least, "a") Great American Novel, for its heartbreaking take on "The American Dream", is too sincere and too dignified for a sexual, colorful, Jay-Z-filled movie. It's not Luhrmann's fault: the material is so rich that any interpretation is bound to cheapen it.
The actors come off as far too sincere. Leo could play a punk rock/beach bum Romeo, but he can't play Gatsby. If Robert Redford couldn't pull it off, who can? Leo is an intense actor, and roles like Billy in The Departed and Cobb in Inception suit him. But he walks a fine line between searing the screen with his squint and sneer, and falling into a parody of himself, which he does in this film.
I initially liked the idea of casting Tobey Maguire as Nick Carraway--the wide-eyed, somewhat effeminate narrator and observer--but Tobey is just too Tobey to be believed. And Luhrmann gives him a frame story that isn't in the book and comes off as super-cheesy and pointless.
Carey Mulligan pulls off Daisy Buchanan well enough. She captures Daisy's airiness and vulnerability and, perhaps accidentally, avoids too much depth. Which is good, since Daisy is a profoundly shallow character.
The only actor who seemed to be able to accurately and fully realize his character was Joel Edgerton as Tom Buchanan. Edgerton plays Buchanan as a arrogant prick with a secret insecure and frightened side. Buchanan is all swagger when he feels that what's his (i.e. his wife and mistress) is secure. But when something (or someone) threatens to diminish him--either by threatening his privileged place in society, or by stealing his wife--he crumbles into a mess of unfocused anger, and even sentimentality. I thought Edgerton's performance was the deepest one. He managed to make it clear that Buchanan is not remotely a good person, but not exactly a "villain" either.
Other than the acting, the movie was certainly pretty and the soundtrack was bangin'. But all attempts to show what the book is actually about come off as cheesy and shallow. Let's be clear: The Great Gatsby is not a love story. It's about a man who doesn't like himself and his roots, so he creates a story about himself and then lives it, even if he must lie, cheat, or steal to make this dream of himself a reality (he's basically a less asshole, far less talented version of Don Draper in the 20's). And all of this subterfuge is for a woman who doesn't really deserve him anyway: a woman who couldn't love a penniless man if she wanted to. Daisy is a figment of Gatsby's imagination as much as "Jay Gatsby" is.
Additionally, The Great Gatsby is an uncomfortable and even cruel take on "the American Dream"--Gatsby does everything a white, middle-American man is supposed to do: he pulls himself up by his own bootstraps (through bootlegging, ironically!). Yet he can never truly be considered a success because 1) he's new money, and success is measured in this world by how old your money is and how little you had to do (be born) to come into it, and 2) because he achieved his wealth through criminal activity. The Great Gatsby reveals how the game of success in America is rigged. If you are born poor and lowly, you will always be poor and lowly. And if you try to weasel your way in with the truly privileged classes, you're bound to be punished.
The film, of course, doesn't really touch on these themes, instead preferring to present Gatsby and Daisy's romance as TRUE LOVE. It's not--she doesn't even come to Gatsby's funeral. The movie really pounds home the green light at the end of Daisy's dock--the symbol of all Gatsby's hopes and desires, so close yet forever out of reach. Seriously, Luhrmann shows us the green light like, 7 times. We get it. HOPE UNFULFILLED. Attempts to take the material seriously result in over-acting, corniness, and general insincerity.
I can't really say I'm surprised, and, hey, I ain't even mad! It was a decent attempt, but sometimes art can't be re-imagined in another medium. Like Lolita, The Watchmen, and The Scarlet Letter, attempts to bring The Great Gatsby to the big screen are doomed to wither in comparison to the source material.
3 out of 5 stars
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