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| The Great Gatsby: Leonardo di Caprio and Carey Mulligan |
I was sent into a spin after reading Colin’s
Column on the Business Of Fashion blog this week. I was struck how fiercely he dislikes
Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby and berates Baz Luhrmann’s film version as
the biggest failure out of the four films made. Saying the film is "Vacuous" and full of “vulgar
filmic clichés, fluffy, dreamlike, and in no way an authentic reflection of
anything in the 1920’s”. He adds “The Great Gatsby in Luhrmann’s version is a
fashion story about greed and it entirely reflects the attitudes and beliefs of
the high fashion world today” And he goes on to say “It sure as hell is an
authentic voice for our times in it’s lascivious drooling over the wealth and
luxury of the attitudes and lifestyles of the super rich”.
For the full
article see www.thebusinessoffashion.com.
I totally disagree and here is why. The Great Gatsby is my favourite novel and I love Baz Luhrmann’s version and have seen it twice.
Although I have to say Jack Clayton’s version with Robert Redford and Mia Farrow
is a very close second. The music is a surprise fusion of hip-hop and jazz that brings it bang up to date and a million miles from fluffy and dreamlike. I find most of
Colin’s views flawed, his
tenuous link of the film being a mirror of today's society, and specifically
what is wrong with fashion and excess and how it is depicted on the pages of
our prestigious glossies, bears no meaning to the film I watched.
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| From left, Toby Maguire; Baz Luhrmann; Carey mulligan; Leonardo di Caprio |
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| From left: Leonardo di Caprio; Carey Mulligan; Joel Edgerton; Toby Maguire |
The Great Gatsby
has been heralded as the great American novel. Perhaps that is the challenge
for its critiques? Lauded as something it is not? I think it’s a stunning novel
with a myriad of complex, uncomfortable messages packed full of irony and
tragedy. Colin may well be right that there are other great American novels far
more deserving of the title? Whether it
qualifies, as the great American novel or not is a question best left to the
literary crowd.
Colin argues that
the film is not an authentic view of anything from the 1920’s. I think Fitzgerald
sets out to show a snapshot of the 1920’s as he saw it, surely well qualified as he lived through it? Fitzgerald does this by exploring the complexity
of a man who despite being shackled with the restrictions of poverty and lack
of status, wanted desperately to be somebody. I think the novel explores what
it means to be on the outside trying to penetrate a world of wealth and status,
especially having fallen in love with a wealthy Daisy. When he is rejected because he reveals he’s
poor he has a vision that he can win her back by becoming wealthy. Cliché as Colin argues? Not if you are a
hopeless romantic and have a dream with a firm vision and the faith to make it
happen. Is this a unique story? I
imagine it has been portrayed in various guises over time, and therefore not typically
what the 1920’s stood for in America surely? What makes Gatsby so alluring and
therefore authentic is that he speaks to us on many personal levels that transcend
time. Desperate to be loved by the woman he loves, he wants to be accepted by
her and fit in to her life. Having the largest house, luxurious clothes and
throwing spectacular parties are all obtained for her, he is addicted to
wanting her, enough to engage in corruption. “Wanting too much” as Daisy, says. He is flawed, addicted to a mirage that is Daisy and the life she leads. Do we see parts of ourselves in Gatsby? Do we relate and connect to this enigmatic character, why yes of course we do.
Colin refers to
the film as vulgar on the grandest of scales; I believe this is exactly what Baz
Luhrmann portrays The Great Gatsby to be. Perhaps this is
what he understood Fitzgerald wanted us to see? I believe Fitzgerald takes us on a grand
vulgar journey to heighten the impact of the very largest of human tragedy, death.
We see that Gatsby
is delusional in thinking that his new money can buy Daisy’s love, their
happiness. The irony is he does not fit
in, she is of a different kind, his enigma perhaps, we see him rejected for a
second time. Haven’t we all failed in love
and perhaps been fooled that money may be the answer to gaining love,
happiness, success and status? Perhaps some of us still are? And there perhaps
lies the message Fitzgerald portrays, that the pursuit and accumulation of excessive
wealth, not built on solid, authentic, and moral foundations ultimately can
fail. Therefore rather than the film
drooling over the attitudes and the lavishness of the super rich, I for one
found it to be the opposite. The glamour and the spectacular wealth were devoid
of meaning at the close of the film and what resonated with me was Nick Caraway’s
character saying Gatsby “was worth all of them put together” and that “he had
an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found
in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again” I think
Caraway admires Gatsby, because he knew the true Gatsby, the one that had a
dream and the faith with an un-faltering vision to get what he wanted.
I love Gatsby
because he is a contradiction, a hopeless romantic, addicted to the pursuit of love
and happiness, a fake by default due to his love for Daisy, fragile and
hopeful. I imagine his soul ached for his love when he uttered the words “can’t
repeat the past, why of course you can” his hope that some day he will go back
and reclaim his love. Have we all experienced an aching soul desperate to
reclaim a past lost love? I have.
I do however agree with Colin’s overarching message that the fashion world has a lot to answer for regarding uncontrolled excess; the so called drooling over the lifestyles of the super rich; pornography masquerading as style; the lack of critique and debate for designers and their collections; and the endless pages given over to the usual high-end design conglomerates. Finally someone speaks out, I salute you Colin. My response to the rest of Colin’s column will be posted next week.
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