It isn’t all that surprising that Baz Luhrmann’s expectedly gaudy, confetti-laden 3D adaptation of The Great Gatsby is most entertaining when it least resembles The Great Gatsby. Yet what is rather stunning – considering the prominence of Luhrmann’s maximalist, modern stylization at work (get out ya seat, Hov) – is just what a literal adaptation this is.
No, it’s not enough for Tobey Maguire (increasingly endearing as the film goes on, but nevertheless out of place) to read large swaths of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s prose as part of a clunky framing device; those words literally pop out in front of the green light, and dissolve over the audience in three glorious dimensions. For a movie so dedicated to translating Fitzgerald’s depictions of decadence word by literal word, it goes very far out of its way to miss the point.















