The Great Gatsby

A Midwesterner (Sam Waterston) becomes fascinated with his nouveau riche neighbor (Robert Redford), who obsesses over his lost love (Mia Farrow).

What we have here is a big name cast, though not as stylish as Baz Luhrmann's version forty years later. Luhrmann does seem to follow the same plot and use much of the same dialogue, suggesting at the least both enjoyed certain lines from the novel, or perhaps even that Luhrmann used this film as his cue. A few scenes, such as the clothes-tossing, seemed to be a direct borrowing. Also, Redford says "old sport" more naturally than Leonardo DiCaprio.

I have seen some criticism for this film being too literal. So, is being literal good or bad? I imagine if they strayed from the novel there would be just as many critics (or more) complaining... you just cannot win when adapting classic literature (though I personally loved this).

A great use of Karen Black. All I need to say.

The original script allegedly had homosexual undertones, and I think that comes through here. Also, when thinking of this as a tale from an unreliable narrator, it is interesting to wonder what is strictly true and what is puffed up from Nick's obsessive and doting point of view.

So much for hoping for a special edition DVD of this undervalued movie. Not even a trailer! But at least the movie has never looked better, and the original music soundtrack has been fully restored, so I'm not about to complain any further. Ever since its release this film has been battered with wildly vicious criticisms. Maybe that can be better reserved for the genuinely numbing and off key 2001 TV version, which makes this version look better than ever. This version, to me, improves with every viewing--it's peculiar rhythms and deliberately sedate pace does work very well, creating a mood not easily comparable to other movies. Then too, look at director Jack Clayton's movie, THE INNOCENTS (1960), which shares a bit of this studied approach. I'm glad this Gatsby version wasn't reduced to a quick and vulgarized romp; instead Clayton took a more intellectual tone, very nicely counterpointed with a superb array of period music. The crowning touch, Irving Berlin's "What'll I Do," is a match made in heaven, both the song and the novel having appeared within a year of each other in 1925. As for the DVD, it now highlights to maximum effect the evocative, first rate cinematography and art direction (what were those other commentators thinking--were they watching a duped VHS?), etc. Too bad a 30th anniversary edition couldn't have happened in 2004, but I'm more than pleased this has been given its chance on DVD. I agree that the novel's literary aspects defies easy transformation into a movie, but we are more than fortunate that this 1974 film version is as haunting and quietly moving an experience that it is.

Looking as if it were plucked from the dreaming ear of an impressionable adolescent with Fitzgerald's novel half-open on his bedstand -- and sometimes sounding, alas, as if it were scored by the guy who did episode #93 of Kojak -- there is no reason why this 1974 adaptation of The Great Gatsby shouldn't be better regarded than it is, or even included among other masterpieces of the fertile period. Well, maybe one: Mia Farrow gives an execrable, vaporish performance as Daisy Buchanan that will make you get down on your knees and thank god that we only have to deal with Gwyneth Paltrow. In a way, though, even Farrow's neuroting fits, because this is Fitzgerald as seen through a Tennesee Williams filter. The character of Myrtle's husband, a cipher in the book, is here a sweaty man in overalls who squeezes an oily rag in his hand whenever he stresses out over his wife's infidelities, which is pretty much all the time. What we film folk might call the Karl Malden character.

Unbeknownst to many, this movie was written by Francis Ford Coppola, and is another crown jewel to add to his annus mirabilis of 1974, when he also wrote and directed The Conversation and The Godfather Part II. And what did you do last year? Here he does a wonderfully subtle job with a thankless task, excising most of the celebrated prose passages and too-famous scenes. There's nothing worse than seeing desperate actors try to bring tension to overly familiar texts -- I can never stifle a groan when any actor says "To be or not to be" -- unless of course it's doing reverent voiceovers of Great American Literature. Both of these fatal errors are mostly avoided, but for anyone who wishes the movie were more faithful, they retain the scene where Daisy weeps over Gatsby's shirts. This episode has an intuitive poetic psychology in the book, but goes over like a lead balloon on screen because we expect clearer motivation from flesh and blood people. Such are the limitations of film. But to keep himself interested, and to prevent the proceedings from feeling too dutiful, Coppola gives strange, heretical tweaks to his notorious source throughout, including an assassination scene that likens Gatsby, brilliantly, to JFK.

I don't know much about director Jack Clayton, except that he also did an ace adaptation of Turn of the Screw, retitled The Innocents... But maybe that's enough. This guy FEELS literature. Nothing in this movie looks less than how you idealized it -- even the sunsets are Jazz Age. Robert Redford, too, perhaps sensing he was born to play this role, doesn't fold under pressure but gives a shrewdly understated performance to match the underwritten character, somehow keeping the myth of Gatsby alive despite his all-too-solid presence. In the scene where we first meet him in his office, his solitude framed by the noises of the revellers down in the garden, he projects both neediness and the intimidating force field that comes with extreme wealth, seemingly without doing anything.

A reviewer below me wondered why the men in this movie would go for the shrill, plain women, and suggested there was a gay subtext. Cool. Then the casting of Mia Farrow is subversive instead of insane. I have to admit, when Sam Waterston as Nick Carraway tells Gatsby "You're better than the whole lot of 'em put together!" his delivery has something, shall we say, flamboyant about it, especially in comparison to his wooden restraint hitherto. It's almost as if he stored up all his energy for that one line, to force us to see what a key moment it is between these two young men, and perhaps what's lost when Gatsby meets his end later the same afternoon. But enough speculation. Here's a movie open to any and all interpretations -- sexual, political, poetical.

This adaptation may have worked with the mute button on, but the cheezy movie-of-the-week score, the shrill cries of Mia Farrow, and the pallid reading by Robert Redford doom this film. Bruce Dern as Tom Buchanan makes as much sense as Jimmie 'J.J.' Walker as Muhammad Ali - the physical strength that defined Tom is totally missing.

The staging, costumes, and incidentals (cars, etc.) are gorgeous, but the beauty of Fitzgerald's prose is nowhere to be found. This must be a difficult work to film, and it shows.

It's funny how time seems to change attitudes towards many works of art, including the 1974 film treatment of Fitzgerald's novel "The Great Gatsby." At the time of its release the movie received some of the most scathingly negative reviews I can recall for any film. The reviews were no doubt a response to the enormous publicity that preceded the movie's release with promotion people at Paramount working overtime in promoting the movie as the finest film achievement since ""Gone With The Wind". Compared to the type of promotion that goes on today, this movie's promotion machine pales, but at the time it was quite a unique approach to marketing a movie. The film was on the cover of every imaginable magazine, including the very first issue of People magazine, and primed for failure from the start from all those in Hollywood who love to build something up only to revel in it being destroyed.

None of this back story had anything to do with the actual movie itself.

I recall seeing the movie on the first weekend of its opening and being utterly enchanted by the performances, costumes and ambiance of the production. I saw the movie a second time a few weeks later, only to be disturbed by the cuts that were made to the film, no doubt as a result of that critical backlash. A number of scenes were shortened with one whole character, the Owl Man, played by Tom Ewell completely edited out of the film. These cuts became permanent, with the film today showing the evidence of the cuts by occasional abrupt traditions. I have never seen any version of the film that had these cuts restored.

Now, 36 years after it's release, the movie has undergone the type of reassessment that only time can provide with it being appreciated for the lovely film that it is. With the movie certainly on it's way to Blu-Ray, it's the right time to see these cuts restored to the film so that people can finally see the ENTIRE film as it was initially intended and not the film formed by the hostile criticism it received.