The Great Gatsby: A Critical Analysis of Luhrmann vs. Fitzgerald
🎬 THE SPECS: The Great Gatsby (2013)
The Money
$105M+ Budget / $353M+ Box Office
The Hardware
2 Oscars (Production Design, Costume Design)
⭐ THE POWER PLAYERS (CAST)
Jay Gatsby
Nick Carraway
Daisy Buchanan
Tom Buchanan
Jordan Baker
🎵 THE SCORE
Executive Produced by Jay-Z
The soundtrack is a deliberate anachronism, featuring Lana Del Rey, Beyoncé, Jack White, and Florence + The Machine mixing jazz influences with modern hip-hop and pop.
Official Trailer - The Great Gatsby (2013)
Baz Luhrmann's lavish visual interpretation of Fitzgerald's masterpiece
Introduction: The Unadaptable Ghost
You know that feeling when you try to remember a dream you had last night? The harder you chase the details, the more they slip away, leaving you with just a lingering sense of color and emotion. That is what reading F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby feels like. It is a book built on smoke, mirrors, and a specific kind of American loneliness that seems impossible to capture on camera. So, when Baz Luhrmann announced he was taking a swing at it in 2013, part of me wanted to groan. How do you film a book where the most important action happens inside the narrator's head?
But the thing is, looking back at the film now, I think my hesitation was misplaced. Or maybe it was just a bit snobbish. We often fall into this trap of thinking that "fidelity" means copying the book page for page, like a visual audiobook. But a film is a different beast entirely. It has to translate feeling into sight.
Luhrmann's adaptation is loud, chaotic, and frankly, a bit exhausting. It assaults you with color and noise. And for a long time, I thought that was its flaw. I thought it missed the point of Fitzgerald's subtle, elegant prose. But recently, I have been wondering if I got it wrong. Maybe Luhrmann wasn't trying to film the 1920s as they historically were. Maybe he was trying to film the 1920s as Nick Carraway remembered them.
Central Insight: The film operates on the logic of memory, specifically a traumatic, obsessive memory. It is not a history lesson; it is a fever dream.
And while it definitely stumbles - sometimes spectacularly - it also manages to hit a weird, resonant note that most other adaptations miss. In this post, I want to walk through the differences, the successes, and the failures of this adaptation. We are going to look at how Luhrmann changes the frame, the music, and the characters to fit his "Red Curtain" style, and whether that ruins the story or saves it.
1. The Frame Narrative: Writing from the Ruins
Let's start with the biggest structural change: the sanitarium. In the novel, Nick Carraway is writing a memoir, but the context is vague. He tells us in Chapter 1: "When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever." He is hurt, certainly, and disillusioned. He admits that his tolerance "has a limit." But he is still functioning. He is "turning over in [his] mind" the advice his father gave him. He sounds composed, if a bit cynical.
Luhrmann throws composition out the window. His Nick (Tobey Maguire) is in a sanitarium, diagnosed with morbid alcoholism, insomnia, and fits of anger. He is a broken man, writing this story as a form of therapy prescribed by a doctor.
📖 NICK CARRAWAY: Novel vs. Film
📚 In the Novel
Writing a memoir with vague context. Hurt and disillusioned, but still functioning. Composed, if cynical. Claims to "reserve all judgments" while judging everyone. Slippery and complicit.
🎬 In the Film
In a sanitarium, diagnosed with morbid alcoholism, insomnia, and fits of anger. A broken man, writing as therapy. More of a victim, a passive observer destroyed by what he saw.
My initial reaction to this was: "Why?" It felt like a cheap Hollywood tactic to explain the voiceover. It felt unnecessary. But let's look closer. In the book, Nick is a notoriously unreliable narrator because he claims to "reserve all judgments" while judging absolutely everyone. He is a moral prig who gets drunk and forgets entire chunks of the evening.
By putting Nick in a sanitarium, Luhrmann externalizes what is internal in the book. It literalizes the trauma. If you witness a murder-suicide and the collapse of your entire social circle, you probably aren't going to be writing calm, composed prose a year later. You are going to be a mess. The sanitarium device pathologizes Nick, yes, but does it ruin his role as a moral compass?
I don't think so. Actually, I think it clarifies it. In the book, Nick's obsession with Gatsby is a bit strange, bordering on romantic or at least deeply fixated. By making him an addict in recovery, the film suggests that Gatsby is the drug. Nick is addicted to the past, to the memory of this man who "represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn."
The Trade-off: The book Nick is "within and without" — part of the machinery of the tragedy. The film Nick is more of a victim, a passive observer. It shifts the flavor from a social critique to a personal trauma narrative.
However, there is a downside. The book Nick is slippery. He is "within and without." He is part of the machinery of the tragedy. The film Nick is more of a victim, a passive observer destroyed by what he saw. It takes away some of his agency and makes him a bit too sympathetic. In the novel, Nick is complicit. In the film, he is just sad. It is a subtle shift, but it changes the flavor of the tragedy from a social critique to a personal trauma narrative.
2. The "Cinematic Poem": Words Floating in Air
Then there is the text. Literal text. Floating across the screen, dissolving into snow, wrapping around the architecture. Luhrmann does this thing where he takes Fitzgerald's most famous lines - like the description of the Valley of Ashes or the final "So we beat on" - and superimposes them over the image.
This is what some critics call "noble literalism." It is an attempt to bridge the unbridgeable gap between literature and cinema. Usually, voiceover is considered a lazy way to tell a story in film. Show, don't tell, right? But here, Luhrmann seems to be saying, "I can't show this. This language is too important."
Does it work? I am torn.
✍️ FLOATING TEXT: The Debate
❌ The Problem
Incredibly distracting. Traps the viewer in a "quotational" quality. Constantly reminds you: "Hey, you're watching a classic book!" Breaks immersion. Feels like a pop-up book or high-budget PowerPoint.
✅ The Defense
Creates a "Cinematic Poem." Fitzgerald's prose is the star. The plot is soap-opera thin — the writing makes it a masterpiece. Forces the audience to engage with language physically. Gives the words weight.
Part of me finds it incredibly distracting. It traps the viewer in a "quotational" quality. It reminds you constantly: "Hey, you are watching a classic book! Look at these fancy words!" It breaks the immersion. Instead of feeling the despair of the Valley of Ashes, you are reading about it while 3D dust particles fly at your face. It feels a bit like a pop-up book.
But then, there is the argument that this is a "Cinematic Poem." Fitzgerald's prose is the star of the show. The plot of Gatsby is actually soap-opera thin: rich guy loves girl, girl is married to jerk, car crash, murder. It is the writing that makes it a masterpiece. If you cut the prose, you lose the soul of the thing.
By putting the words on screen, Luhrmann forces the audience to engage with the language physically. We have to look at it. It acknowledges that Gatsby is a written object. It gives the words weight. When Nick writes "Gatsby turned out all right at the end" on the screen, it feels definitive. It is a stamp.
The Paradox: While it sometimes looks like a high-budget PowerPoint presentation, it is Luhrmann admitting that his camera cannot capture what Fitzgerald's pen did. He is bowing down to the text, even as he vandalizes it with 3D effects. A weird paradox that fits the contradictions of Gatsby himself.
3. Fidelity vs. Transformation: What We Lost and What We Gained
This is where things get really contentious. Adaptation is always a battle between staying true to the text (fidelity) and making something that works as a movie (transformation). Luhrmann makes two massive choices here that pull in opposite directions.
The Ending: The Missing Funeral
In the novel, the funeral scene is devastating. It is a pathetic affair. Owl Eyes shows up, wiping his glasses in the rain, and says, "The poor son-of-a-bitch." But more importantly, Gatsby's father, Henry C. Gatz, shows up. He brings this ragged old copy of Hopalong Cassidy with young James Gatz's schedule written in it: "Rise from bed... 6.00 A.M. ... Practice elocution, poise and how to attain it."
It is heartbreaking. It grounds Gatsby. It shows us the little boy behind the millionaire. It shows us that he had a father who loved him, even if Gatsby rejected him. It emphasizes the absolute isolation of his death - hundreds of partygoers, but only his dad and Nick at the grave.
⚰️ THE MISSING FUNERAL SCENE
What the Novel Has
Henry C. Gatz arrives with young James's Hopalong Cassidy schedule. Owl Eyes shows up in the rain. The scene humanizes Gatsby and emphasizes his tragic isolation.
What the Film Cuts
The father is entirely absent. No funeral scene. Nick calls, no one answers. Media descends like vultures, then — cut to sanitarium.
The Effect
Gatsby remains pure myth. No origin, no family, no roots. Shifts emotional weight onto Nick. Changes from social critique to tragic romance.
Luhrmann cuts the father. He cuts the funeral entirely. In the film, Nick calls, and no one answers. The media descends like vultures, and then... cut to Nick in the sanitarium.
Why? Why cut the most humanizing moment for Gatsby?
I think Luhrmann wanted to preserve the myth. By keeping Henry Gatz out, Gatsby remains an enigma. He has no origin, no family, no roots. He is just "The Great Gatsby" until the bitter end. And it shifts the emotional weight entirely onto Nick. In the film, Nick is the only one who cares. It intensifies Nick's burden.
Does it alter the "knowing" audience's view? Yes. Without the father, the tragedy feels colder. It shifts the genre from a social critique (look how the world uses and discards people) to a tragic romance (look how Nick loved Gatsby). The film is less about the hollowness of the American Dream and more about the holiness of Nick's friendship. It is a valid choice for a movie that wants to be a tearjerker, but it loses some of the book's biting satire.
The Soundtrack: The Hip-Hop Jazz Age
Now, the music. Jay-Z. Beyoncé. Kanye West. In a movie about 1922.
Purists hate this. They wanted period-accurate jazz. They wanted the Charleston. And I get that. But let's use the theory of "Badiou's Truth Event" here. Badiou argues that truth isn't just a fact; it is a rupture, an event that breaks the status quo.
🎵 THE SOUND OF RUPTURE
Jazz in 1922
Dangerous. "Devil music." Sexy, frightening, radically new. Terrified the establishment. A rupture in the cultural status quo.
Hip-Hop Today
Shares that DNA of rebellion, excess, and "new money." The sound of the street taking over the penthouse. Emotionally faithful to the era's energy.
If Luhrmann used 1920s jazz recordings today, we'd hear quaint, scratchy, old-timey music. It would sound safe. It wouldn't make us feel the danger.
In 1922, Jazz was that rupture. It was dangerous. It was "devil music." It was sexy, frightening, and radically new. It terrified the establishment.
If Luhrmann had used 1920s jazz recordings today, what would we hear? We would hear quaint, scratchy, old-timey music. It would sound safe. It would sound like a museum piece. It wouldn't make us feel the danger or the excitement that Nick felt walking into those parties.
By using Hip-Hop, Luhrmann translates the energy of the Jazz Age rather than the literal sound. Hip-Hop shares that DNA of rebellion, excess, and "new money." It is the sound of the street taking over the penthouse. When we hear Jay-Z pumping through the speakers during the party scenes, we feel the visceral thrum that the characters would have felt.
The Key Distinction: It is historically inaccurate, sure. But it is emotionally faithful. It bridges the gap between the 1920s and the 2010s. It tells the audience: "This isn't history. This is happening now."
And honestly, watching the cars race across the bridge to "Izzo (H.O.V.A.)" works in a way that period music just wouldn't. It captures the frantic, drug-fueled speed of the era.
4. Characterization: The Man and The Mask
Gatsby: The Romantic vs. The Roughneck
Fitzgerald's Gatsby is a bit of a cipher. He is described as an "elegant young rough-neck." There is something slightly off about him. He is playing a role, but the cracks show. He disappears from parties. He stands alone.
DiCaprio's Gatsby is... well, he is a movie star playing a movie star. He is charismatic, glowing, and incredibly sympathetic. Luhrmann gives him an entrance that is pure Hollywood magic - the fireworks, the smile, Rhapsody in Blue swelling. It is the "Red Curtain" style at its peak: conscious artificiality.
🎭 GATSBY: Novel vs. Film
📚 Book Gatsby
A cipher. "Elegant young rough-neck." Something slightly off. Playing a role with visible cracks. Connected to Wolfshiem (criminal underworld). Dangerous. A man who could get you killed.
🎬 Film Gatsby
A movie star playing a movie star. Charismatic, glowing, sympathetic. Pure Hollywood magic entrance. A noble gangster doing it all for love. A Tragic Hero you want to hug.
But does this hide Gatsby's delusions? In the book, we see the corruption more clearly. We see the connection to Wolfshiem (the molar cuff buttons) and we understand that Gatsby is a criminal. The film softens this. It makes him a gangster, sure, but a noble gangster. He is doing it all for love!
The film leans hard into the "Tragic Hero" archetype. We don't see as much of the cold, hard ambition that made James Gatz into Jay Gatsby. We see the romantic longing. DiCaprio is fantastic at showing the vulnerability - that scene where he breaks the clock, he is like a terrified little boy. But I wonder if we lose the danger. Book Gatsby is a man who could get you killed. Film Gatsby is a man you want to hug.
Daisy: Stripping the Agency
And then we have Daisy. Poor Daisy. Adaptation has never been kind to her.
The film makes a crucial omission: it cuts the scene with Pammy, the daughter. In the book, the child is brought out for a moment, and Daisy calls her "Bles-sed pre-cious." Gatsby stares at the child in shock. "I don't think he had ever really believed in its existence before," Nick observes.
🌼 DAISY BUCHANAN: The Missing Child
The Novel's Pammy Scene
The child is physical proof that the past cannot be repeated. Daisy is a mother. She has a life, a history with Tom that Gatsby cannot erase. Gatsby stares in shock — he never "really believed in its existence."
The Film's Omission
By cutting the child, Luhrmann makes Daisy more available. The fantasy of "running away together" seems more plausible. It strips her of responsibilities and complexity. She becomes a prize being fought over.
Cutting this scene changes everything. In the book, the child is the physical proof that the past cannot be repeated. Daisy is a mother. She has a life, a history with Tom that Gatsby cannot erase.
By cutting the child, Luhrmann makes Daisy more available. It makes the fantasy of "running away together" seem more plausible. It strips her of her responsibilities and her complexity. In the film, Daisy is a victim of Tom's cruelty and Gatsby's intensity. She is a prize being fought over.
In the novel, Daisy is careless. She is not just a victim; she is a participant in the destruction. She retreats back into her money because it is safe. "They were careless people, Tom and Daisy." The film keeps that line, but it doesn't quite earn it with Daisy's characterization. Carey Mulligan plays her with a fragile, bird-like quality that makes you want to protect her. But the book Daisy is made of harder stuff. She is selfish. By making her more sympathetic, the film robs her of her agency. She becomes a leaf blowing in the wind, rather than a woman who makes a cold, calculated choice to stay with the rich, powerful husband.
The Core Tension: In the novel, Daisy is careless and complicit. In the film, she is fragile and victimized. The film keeps the line "They were careless people, Tom and Daisy" — but Carey Mulligan's portrayal doesn't quite earn it.
📊 NOVEL VS. FILM: KEY DIFFERENCES
| Element | Fitzgerald's Novel | Luhrmann's Film | Effect |
|---|---|---|---|
| Frame Narrative | Vague memoir context; Nick composed but cynical | Sanitarium; diagnosed with alcoholism, writing as therapy | Externalizes trauma; makes Nick more sympathetic, less complicit |
| Text/Prose | Read silently; language experienced internally | Floating text on screen; "Cinematic Poem" | Distracting but honors irreplaceable prose; admits camera's limits |
| Funeral Scene | Henry C. Gatz appears; Owl Eyes attends; humanizes Gatsby | Entirely cut; no father, no funeral | Preserves myth; shifts from social critique to tragic romance |
| Music | Jazz evokes danger, rebellion, "devil music" | Hip-Hop/modern pop (Jay-Z, Beyoncé, Kanye) | Historically inaccurate but emotionally faithful; translates energy |
| Gatsby | Cipher; "elegant rough-neck"; dangerous criminal | Charismatic movie star; noble gangster; Tragic Hero | More sympathetic; loses dangerous edge; man you want to hug |
| Daisy | Careless; selfish; active participant in destruction | Fragile; victimized; prize being fought over (Pammy cut) | Loses agency and complexity; becomes more sympathetic |
*Scroll horizontally to view all columns
5. Visual Style & Context: The Hangover of the American Dream
Luhrmann is known for the "Red Curtain" style - theatricality, heightened reality, awareness that we are watching a show. The Great Gatsby is shot in 3D. It features sweeping, impossible camera movements that zoom from across the bay right onto the dock.
Is this a critique of the "orgiastic" wealth, or a celebration of it?
It is both. And that is the problem. The film is so in love with the beauty of the costumes, the parties, and the mansions that it sometimes forgets to be disgusted by them. We are meant to be repulsed by the excess, but the 3D glasses make us want to reach out and grab the confetti. It is consumerist porn disguised as a critique of consumerism.
🎭 THE VISUAL PARADOX
❌ The Problem
The film is so in love with the beauty of costumes, parties, and mansions that it forgets to be disgusted by them. We're meant to be repulsed by excess, but we want to grab the confetti.
✅ The Defense
The 3D adds artificiality that works — characters look like cut-outs in a diorama. They look fake. In a story about inventing fake lives, that's brilliant commentary.
But context matters. This film came out in 2013, in the shadow of the 2008 financial crisis. The parallel between the Roaring Twenties and the pre-crash 2000s is impossible to ignore. The "moral rubberiness" that Nick mentions feels very familiar to a post-2008 audience.
📊 THE 1920s / 2000s PARALLEL
The Green Light
The bubble — the impossible promise of eternal growth and happiness that we all know is going to burst.
The Green Light and the Valley of Ashes take on new meanings here. The Valley of Ashes is the rust belt, the forgotten America left behind by Wall Street. The Green Light is the bubble - the impossible promise of eternal growth and happiness that we all know is going to burst.
Luhrmann's visual chaos reflects this anxiety. The camera is never still. It is nervous. It is twitchy. It feels like a market on the verge of crashing. The 3D adds a layer of artificiality that works - the characters look like cut-outs in a diorama. They look fake. And in a story about people inventing fake lives, that visual style is actually a pretty brilliant piece of commentary. It emphasizes the hollowness of it all. It looks great, but if you poke it, your finger would go right through.
The Brilliant Commentary: The 3D makes the characters look like cut-outs in a diorama. They look fake. In a story about people inventing fake lives, that visual style emphasizes the hollowness — it looks great, but if you poke it, your finger would go right through.
6. Creative Response: The Showdown at the Plaza
In this section, I am stepping into the shoes of a scriptwriter on the film production, arguing for a specific change in the Plaza Hotel scene.
To: Baz Luhrmann
From: Sanjay Rathod, Script Consultant
Re: The Plaza Scene - Gatsby's Outburst
Baz, we need to talk about the Plaza scene. I know the purists are going to come after us with pitchforks, but I am telling you: we have to keep the outburst. We have to let Gatsby lose his cool.
In the novel, Chapter 7, the confrontation is tense, but it is a verbal chess match. Tom dismantles Gatsby with facts. He exposes the bootlegging, the "side-street drug stores." Gatsby tries to deny it, but he is cornered. The text says: "He began to talk excitedly to Daisy, denying everything, defending his name... But with every word she was drawing further and further into herself."
In the book, Gatsby loses because he is exposed as a fraud. He shrinks.
But for the screen? We need something visceral. We need to see the "rough-neck" break through the "Oxford man" facade. We need to physically demonstrate the violence that is simmering under that pink suit.
I am proposing we have Gatsby physically grab Tom. He should look like he is going to kill him. He should snarl. For that one second, the mask drops completely.
🎬 THE ARGUMENT: Why Keep the Outburst?
Fidelity to the Medium
In a book, you can describe a character "drawing into herself." In a movie, we need to see the trigger. If Gatsby snaps, if he shows violence — that is what terrifies Daisy.
Daisy's Fear
Daisy lives in fear of brute force — she calls Tom a "hulking brute." If she sees that same brutality in Gatsby, the illusion is shattered. He's not the safe, romantic knight anymore. He's a dangerous man.
The Truth Beneath
Despite all the silk shirts and parties, James Gatz is still a man who learned violence from Dan Cody and the war. We see Gatsby destroy his own dream in a moment of human weakness.
Here is why: Fidelity to the medium. In a book, you can describe a character "drawing into herself." In a movie, we need to see the trigger. If Gatsby just argues, he is still the gentleman. If he snaps? If he shows violence? That is what terrifies Daisy.
Daisy is a woman who lives in fear of brute force - look at how she treats Tom. She calls him a "hulking brute." If she sees that same brutality in Gatsby, the illusion is shattered instantly. She doesn't just leave him because he is a bootlegger; she leaves him because he is terrifying. He is not the safe, romantic knight anymore. He is a dangerous man.
This change is essential for the dramatic tension. It visualizes the internal conflict. It shows us that despite all the silk shirts and the parties, James Gatz is still a man who learned violence from Dan Cody and the war. It breaks the audience's heart because we see Gatsby destroy his own dream in a moment of human weakness. We have to keep it.
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The Plaza Hotel showdown — where masks fall and illusions shatter
📊 COMPREHENSIVE ADAPTATION ANALYSIS
| Feature/Character | Original Novel | 2013 Film Changes | Thematic Significance | Critical Reception |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Nick Carraway | A "within and without" narrator who is complicit in the tragedy; writes a memoir from vague context while disillusioned but composed. | Passive observer and victim diagnosed with morbid alcoholism in a sanitarium; writes the story as therapy. | Externalizes Nick's trauma and pathologizes his obsession as an addiction, shifting from social critique to personal trauma. | Critics argue it clarifies Nick's fixation as "addictive," but others feel it removes his agency. |
| Daisy Buchanan | A mother to Pammy; she is "careless" and makes a cold, calculated choice to stay with Tom. | The daughter is omitted; Daisy is portrayed with a fragile, bird-like quality as a victim. | Strips Daisy of maternal agency and complexity, positioning her as a "prize" rather than a participant. | Omitting the child makes the fantasy more plausible but robs the character of real-world responsibilities. |
| Jay Gatsby | An "elegant young rough-neck" with visible cracks in his facade and clear criminal connections. | Portrayed as a sympathetic, charismatic "noble gangster" whose danger is softened. | Positions Gatsby as a "Tragic Hero", prioritizing romantic longing over cold ambition. | Critics praise the vulnerability shown but note the film loses the inherent threat of the novel's character. |
| Musical Score | Features traditional jazz music of the 1920s (the Jazz Age). | Anachronistic soundtrack by Jay-Z, featuring modern hip-hop, pop, and R&B. | Translates the "energy" and "rupture" of 1920s jazz for modern audiences. | Purists criticize historical inaccuracy; proponents argue it's "emotionally faithful." |
| Funeral & Henry Gatz | A pathetic, isolated funeral attended by Nick, Owl Eyes, and Gatsby's father Henry Gatz. | The father is excluded and the funeral scene is entirely cut. | Preserves Gatsby's enigma and shifts genre toward tragic romance focused on Nick's friendship. | Intensifies Nick's burden but makes the tragedy feel colder, losing social satire. |
| Visual Style & Prose | Subtle, elegant prose that constructs a world of smoke and mirrors through language. | Loud, chaotic "Red Curtain" style using 3D effects and literal floating text. | Attempts to bridge literature and cinema by forcing audience to physically engage with language. | Critics find floating text distracting; others view it as a "Cinematic Poem" honoring the writing. |
*Scroll horizontally to view all columns
Presentation: The Great Gatsby - Novel vs. Film Analysis
Video Essay: Analyzing Luhrmann's Gatsby
Conclusion: So We Beat On
So, does Luhrmann's Great Gatsby work?
If you are looking for a subtle examination of class dynamics and the quiet desperation of the American soul, probably not. Stick to the book. Stick to Fitzgerald's perfect, crystalline sentences.
But if you are looking for a film that captures the feeling of reading Gatsby? The feeling of being drunk on champagne and hope, spinning faster and faster until the wheels come off? Then yes. I think it works.
The Essential Truth: Luhrmann understands that The Great Gatsby isn't just a story; it is a tragedy of memory. It is about how we build monuments to people who never really existed.
By adding the frame narrative, changing the music, and heightening the visuals, he creates a film that feels like a memory - distorted, too bright, too loud, and ultimately, sad.
It is not perfect. It is messy. It wears its heart on its sleeve a little too much. But then again, so did Gatsby. And as we watch that green light fade into the darkness of the movie theater, we feel that same old pull. We want to reach out. We want to believe. And for a few hours, even though we know how it ends, we do.
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Works Cited
- Badiou, Alain. Being and Event. Translated by Oliver Feltham, Continuum, 2005.
- Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Great Gatsby. Planet eBook, 2026.
- Hutcheon, Linda. A Theory of Adaptation. Routledge, 2006.
- The Great Gatsby. Directed by Baz Luhrmann, performances by Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire, and Carey Mulligan, Warner Bros. Pictures, 2013.
📸 Photo Gallery: Classroom Screening & Discussion
Classroom screening and discussion of The Great Gatsby (2013)
🔑 FINAL VERDICT
For Subtlety?
Stick to the book
For Feeling?
The film delivers
Tragedy of Memory
Distorted & sad
The Green Light
We still believe
This critical analysis explores the fascinating tensions between F. Scott Fitzgerald's literary masterpiece and Baz Luhrmann's visually extravagant 2013 adaptation — examining fidelity, transformation, and the alchemy of translating feeling into sight.
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