A mixed experience for fans of the book - but the acting is worth the ticket

Rating: 10/10 (27 May 2013)

Watching Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby is an exercise in one of F. Scott Fitzgerald's best quotes: "The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function." Before I watched the film, I reasoned with myself that I would do my best to hold the opposed ideas of The Great Gatsby - the essential novel, Luhrmann's version and my own interpretation - with reasonability and poise. After all, the film must follow the book, but it also must stand alone, and of my own reading, well, what does that matter?
I can assure you that all fell out the window once the movie had started. It is quite impossible for a fan of the book to sit idly as things are added in (or worse, taken away). At the end, I was left feeling somewhat empty at the changes to the text. One scene in particular, where Daisy shows her daughter to Gatsby, was omitted and I spent the rest of the movie fighting the urge to point out its significance: the shallowness with which Daisy treats her daughter, and more importantly, how Gatsby, positively rattled by the small intruder, decides to pursue his affair anyway. Why, Baz, why did you have to cut that part out?
It is unfortunate that at every tweaking of the text, a Fitzgerald fan is drawn out of Baz's dream-world, and has to recompose themselves before entering again. But, there is also an immense gratification to be had at the parts that Luhrmann gets right. Daisy emerging from a sea of sheer curtains. The awkwardness and absurdity of a reunion. The haunting pulse of the green light. There are actually hundreds of moments like these, and Luhrmann's faithfulness to the book is to be commended, especially when, as many critics will point out, the original is very light on plot and even character development.
Tobey Maguire Maguire does a mostly excellent job as Nick Carraway, provided he doesn't talk. His adolescent drawl is jarring and boring. While I appreciate its inclusion, there are times when the narration kills the moment - for example, when Gatsby first introduces himself, Nick describes Gatsby's smile: "one of those rare smiles ... it understood you". While putting Leonardo DiCaprio to the impossible task of measuring up to this passage, it's also entirely unnecessary. Just let the man smile, for Pete's sake. Let the audience make of that what they will.
This Gatsby, however, comes closer to reaching the heights of Fitzgerald's text than any other (though Robert Redford was dreamy). He possesses that mysterious yet sincere quality that makes you understand why Nick would want to defend him from the doubts in his own mind. It's made clear his tireless desperation to prove himself, adopting a dodgy accent (Old Spore!) and affectations, buying an obscene amount of everything, all in an attempt to possess his symbolic lover, Daisy. His story is devastating in ways that have never been depicted on-screen before. He dies thinking he is inferior, reaching for that unattainable thing that will make him complete. I think Nick understands this, and as the final scenes lay out, I grasped alongside him, wanting to save Gatsby this "rotten crowd", his damning self-sorrow. It's no wonder Nick turns to the drink.
Meanwhile, Carey Mulligan's Daisy gives some much needed depth to the simultaneously complicated and underdeveloped character (though after this movie people will still be calling her a "b*tch"). Daisy Buchanan was only ever seen through eyes of men in the book, so it is no surprise that those diminishing sexist ideas often fall on her... delicate (virginal) flower, gold-digger, and Siren. While Mulligan portrays Daisy with a "save me" fragility and an enchanting voice, Gatsby's projections on her are wild and controlling. She is treated like an object by the men in her life, pushed and prodded and pursued, so it is easy to understand why she abandon's Gatsby's violent devotion (which had been fun and romantic until that fateful Summer day) in favour of security with Tom. Yet, she's also tragic, in the way that rich, healthy, white people can be tragic. She is perpetually bored and longing for the excitement that her life held before entering that faithless and possibly abusive marriage. To say she is weeping over "beautiful shirts" hides the sadness she feels that the best part of her life is over. Mulligan lets us glimpse Daisy's corruptible heart, but it is like staring through sheer curtains. The voice still ripples and delights, but her eyes tell a different story.
The supporting cast is strong, if not underused. Isla Fisher's Myrtle is underdeveloped, and her husband George appropriately seems to fade into the background until his ashy self wanders, starkly lit, through Gatsby's palace. Surely, Jordan Baker (Elizabeth Debicki) was as haughty and impassive as I remembered (and the perfect foil to Daisy's frivolity). Joel Edgerton really steals the show as Tom - controlling and protective, he is sublime as Gatsby's dark and taunting reflection. But his lack of screen time is woeful. It seems to be a running theme in Gatsby. None of the cast, including the three leads, are really allowed the room to act. It is a shame that it all has to be cut that way, with swooping camera angles and MTV-style musical interludes. The scene in the Plaza is electric, because for the first time in the whole movie, the symbolism and visual contrivance die down, and everything is allowed to breathe.
While I wish there were more moments like this, I cannot deny that I have come away from the film with some haunting visuals, deeper understanding of the characters and am enriched experience of The Great Gatsby. For this fan of the book, the achievement outweighed the distractions.