I held my breath as the gorgeous words of the novel itself, literally, were enmeshed into background shots, liquefying in the rain, or flurrying about as snowflakes. The two, book and movie, merged in my mind, and the images projected on the screen before my eyes were exactly like the ones in my imagination when I reread the novel last year.
I honestly marveled at the scene introducing Daisy, the flighty, vapid, ethereal creature at the center of the story. In the novel, she lounges on a couch in a lavish circular room with ridiculously long billowing curtains…as if she is floating among clouds, an unreachable goddess…and the symbolism as Gatsby’s unattainable love interest is crystal clear. This movie pulled off THAT scene and many, many more. Remarkable. Amazing. Eye candy!
I remember reading the scene of the party in the love-nest apartment of Myrtle (the mistress of Daisy’s husband), which is the second time in narrator Nick Carraway’s life that he’s been drunk, and thinking: I don’t believe I’ve ever read a more accurate rendering of the feeling of drunkenness with its jumbled snapshots of debauched behavior processed in a stilted way by the brain , asinine and nonsensical conversations, the fixation with a weird object in the room, the utter social disconnect of one’s self as he watches himself “within and without” the drunken drama.
Fitzgerald wrote: “People disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet away.”
(By the way, this is pretty important because Gatsby has become wealthy as a bootlegger, transferring this sad, empty experience to everyone else. Everyone’s missing human connections and distorting reality…not just Jay Gatsby.)
The movie superbly interpreted this party scene for film, right down to the abrupt, one-sentence, shock ending, which it conveyed visually as a slow-motion slide into a frozen frame. Nailed it!
And, the parties… The book gave details such as the number of crates of oranges and lemons delivered to Gatsby’s house each week to be used carelessly as garnishes in the drinks. Gatsby’s parties ARE extravaganzas, and the movie captured every crazy, glorious, mind-boggling detail in 3-D.
My favorite literary symbol in the novel was the glowing green beacon on Daisy’s dock across the bay, which Gatsby stared at each night, as he wished he could capture and possess the radiant dream of a life with her. Even this detail is enthusiastically featured.
Can you imagine my disappointment to find that The Great Gatsby has only received a 48% approval rating on a prominent compilation movie review site? Half of the critics who have seen this movie hate it??! I read negative descriptions like: “rowdy, cluttered adaptation,” “colors as bright as those in a detergent commercial,” “garish glitz,” “a 1920s soap opera,” “style over substance”…have these people read the book? Did they know Gatsby threw big parties? Did they know why and how vital to the story they are? These parties are the shining realization of the American Dream, the symbol of success, waste, carelessness, empty connections. They are supposed to be rowdy and chaotic (one of the greatest moments in literary history occurs amidst that chaos when “we” chat with Gatsby through the narrator-character for 15 minutes and do not realize who he is!). The parties themselves are obviously “style over substance” as the host has not one true friend in attendance. I’m scratching my head here, people!
“Fails to connect,” “I couldn’t care less about these rich folks throwing the bash”…hmmmm. Oh-kay. Sad that people regarded as film experts did not understand the MAGNITUDE of Gatsby’s delusion regarding Daisy, represented by the MAGNITUDE of his gestures. The parties were for her…part of the plan to get her. Are we that frickin’ stoopid? Should the preview include a request that you bring your brain to the movie theater with you, that some higher-order thinking just might be required? The haters are as shallow as the throngs of people who show up every night for Gatsby’s parties.
When F. Scott Fitzgerald died, he believed himself and his novel a failure. Over time, the novel became required reading in high schools across America, eventually emerging as a top contender for the greatest American novel ever written. Maybe time, too, will judge less harshly Baz Luhrmann’s beautiful masterpiece.
First impressions of Daisy...
Nick Carraway having a blast at Myrtle's...
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