All that glitters is not Gatsby

All that glitters is not Gatsby

Baz Luhrmann's exuberant film fails to capture the classic novel's elegiac elegance

ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT
All that glitters is not Gatsby

This is not unexpected. Baz Luhrmann's modus operandi is never subtlety, and his milking of whatever slim, tenuous, ephemeral material cheerfully goes for full bombast. So The Great Gatsby, enjoyable though not so great, magnifies what F Scott Fitzgerald's book only hints, stresses what's only sprinkled, exteriorises what's inside the mind and in the process makes us see more and probably feel less. A fitting opener of the Cannes Film Festival on Wednesday _ and in cinemas across the world this week _ the film revels in excess and almost forgets that all of this is supposed to be a cautionary tale.

The Great Gatsby

Starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Carey Mulligan, Tobey Maguire. Directed by Baz Luhrmann.

Of course, the bacchanalian party scenes are something to gawk at. Luhrmann is out to top the psychedelic arabesque of his Moulin Rouge, which also opened Cannes 10 years ago.

This time, no one actually bursts out singing (it's close) though the hot pumping of techno beat, rap frenzy and Beyonce's murmur transforms the East Coat's Jazz Age of the book into a Babylonian rave, with girls plunging into pools and writhing bodies on stage and fireworks erupting over the lake as Jay Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio) makes his entrance and tries to impress his lost love Daisy (Carey Mulligan).

I wish the parties would go on and on, because that's when the film feels most confident, most at home _ its raison d'etre, and in that sense the 3D treatment doesn't feel out of place at all. But here we're back at that curse of an "unfilmable" book.

What could images do that the Fitzgerald's prose hasn't done? Luhrmann proves, or tries to prove, that he can go further by visualising Gatsby's innermost feelings, doubts, fears, hopes, bringing everything to the foreground. The power of the novel comes from the fact that most of the things are in the background _ above all the looming spectre of the crash that would soon arrive as the orgiastic 1920s gave way to the darker times.

Fitzgerald's plot is thin, since he's more interested in the characters and the ambiguity of their destinies. The book is about a mist that's about to lift and how the people trapped inside begin see the emptiness of their lives _ the film isn't misty at all, and the emptiness, while there, doesn't feel shocking or heartbreaking.

I initially doubted if DiCaprio would be able to hold the film. He does, not gallantly but serviceably. As Gatsby, the mysterious millionaire who puts on a show of endless extravagance to win back Daisy, he represents that breed of social climber that define the greatness and volatility of America, then and now (remember The Social Network? Mark Zuckerberg created Facebook to impress his ex-girlfriend). Now married to old money, in the form of theatrically flamboyant Tom Buchanan (Joel Edgerton), Daisy is a caged bird looking for flight when Gatsby returns into her life, much richer than the last time she saw him.

This tension between old money and nouveau riche, between aristocratic past and anything-goes present, is one of the book's themes that feels diluted here. Notwithstanding the whole thing is narrated by Nick Carraway (the baffled Tobey Maguire), a Wall Street broker and Gatsby's neighbour. Luhrmann's most visible restructuring of the narrative is to frame the main story and let us see Carraway actually write the book The Great Gatsby while being treated for alcoholism in a sanatorium, as if to emphasise the fact if you're not dead, it's only natural that you emerge from the 1920s a total wreck.

It's not hard to see how Luhrmann has re-deployed the deft anachronism he used in Romeo + Juliet: the 2013 The Great Gatsby, unlike the 1974 version with Robert Redford, is designed to feel contemporary. Yes, you have the rap music, but more importantly it's how the characters move and how the film itself moves. Luhrmann likes constant motion, quick editing and superimposition of text on screen.

While Fitzgerald's book is elegant and elegiac, the film chooses _ a conscious choice _ to be jittery. It's a scherzo and not an andante; and while that move gives the material a fresh look, it also spoils the inherent appeal and deep sadness that readers of the book remember so well.

Of course, enjoy the film, especially the clothes, then try the book again. I'll probably do the same.


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