As I said, I saw The Great Gatsby two nights ago.
It has been ten years since I read the book.
I had either forgotten how great it was, or was too much a novice to understand it.
I remember liking it, to be certain; but certainly not this much.
Perhaps it's because Leonardo DiCaprio captured Gatsby's character better than Fitzgerald's flawless prose ever could.
Perhaps it's because Luhrman reconceptualized the story, so it wasn't a time capsule as much as a capsule for all times. The universality of the plot shines through, without really losing the glory.
I loved most that Luhrman post-modernized what very well may be the pinnacle of (readable) modern fiction. (disclaimer: the true pinnacle is Finnegan's Wake, if not, then Ulysses. But they won't be required reading in any high school, anywhere, ever). When I say modern, I skip right over the misunderstanding that it means contemporary. When I say modern, think modern art: forms, lines, ridges: a celebration of expression at its highest point, best understood through the highest familiarity with the entirety of all art, ever. That's modernism: the idea that we can achieve perfection. Fitzgerald was an arch modernist. Luhrman is Joel and Ethan Coen's little, more accessible brother: that is to say, an absolute post-modern artist. At every turn, Luhrman destroys whatever center of understanding you think you might have: Mercutio is a cross-dresser, 19th century france is best understood through 1970's pop-music, and Jay-Z epitomizes the jazz age.
But Luhrman is not without his overarching themes: indeed, he's a one trick pony with one hell of a schtick: love is tragic, catharsis is absolute, and everything is beautiful, if you find the right point of view.
For the most part, Luhrman uses other people's stories to tell the same story, over and over again.
I think, at least right now, it works best in Gatsby. I haven't seen Australia for awhile, though I remember enjoying it. I don't remember it well though, because it lacks the tragedy. I understand it's Luhrman's swan song to his country, but its not him, the way Gatsby is.
Perhaps that means Luhrman lacks the range of truly great directors. I don't doubt that: even with the brilliance of New York 1922 as his canvas, Luhrman's settings feel like theatre backdrops for his strong characters and predictable yet always perfect story. That may be intentional (Gatsby is, after all, the first time he really took on a non-theatric piece, apart from Australia). Either way, even knowing how it is going to end, Luhrman paints a brilliant picture that is always a joy to watch.
Much has been said of the soundtrack. It's apparently been too long since Romeo + Juliet. It's exactly what it needed to be. A post-modern Gatsby can't use Jazz for aesthetic reasons, and let's face it- pre-beat big-band music just isn't rebellious sounding anymore. Jay-Z did a great job putting together a perfect score, with some excellent stand-alone tracks. I've listened to the soundtrack pretty incessantly since seeing the movie- it's wonderful, and even features the three or four best lines from the whole film. Jay-Z is a master at what he does, which is a little bit of everything, a little bit better, than everyone else.
Go see the Great Gatsby if you can. It carries my highest recommendation of any film yet this year. It's not perfect as films go. It's not perfect as adaptations go. But it does what it intends to do as good as anything you'll ever see.
-Zack
"Just give me the green light"
-Florence + the Machine
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