Film Review: The Great Gatsby

Students of English Literature IGCSEs perhaps recall their studies of F Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby with boredom and confusion - the eyes of Dr Eckleburg have been known to flummox even relatively capable students. However, depending on their teacher, there's also a chance that they may recall this slim volume with a sense of the glamour, beauty, intensity and tragedy that is provoked so easily by many of the author's sublimely concise and elegant phrases. 

Those who remember the book for its glamorous aspects will not have been disappointed by Baz Luhrmann's version of The Great Gatsby, which opened the Cannes Film Festival last week. While some viewers have described the sets as cardboardy, and while it's easy to see why others could consider the costuming garish, the glitter and bright lights more than contribute to the sense of hedonistic vibrancy that one could perceive as characterising the Roaring Twenties. Equally, the music - focused around present-day artists such as Lana del Rey, Beyoncé and Jay-Z - did a great deal to capture the characters' wild party moods and chaotic passions. However, inherent in the music was also the inevitably anachronistic quality, with some viewers perhaps preferring to hear a backdrop of music more typical of the time period in which the story is set.

And what of the story? The script only has one major addition that aficionados of the novel would class as a fault, and even this does not massively impact the plotline's overall trajectory. Lovers of Fitzgerald's prose will have also noted the lack of replication of lines of dialogue from the original novel - a significant difference between this version and the version directed by Jack Clayton in 1974, which stars Robert Redford. To those who are familiar with Redford's portrayal of the role of Gatsby, echoes of his characterisation are without doubt noticeable in Leonardo diCaprio's interpretation, although this does not detract in any way from the quality of his performance.

As the first major adaptation of Fitzgerald's classic since 1974, Luhrmann's version was also bound to draw other comparisons, including the choice of Carey Mulligan to play Daisy as an inheritor of Mia Farrow's representation. While Mulligan made for a sexier and less irritating Daisy, Farrow's conception of the character struck the heart of the matter more deeply: as readers or viewers we are not necessarily meant to understand exactly what Gatsby sees in Daisy, to make them both seem more eccentric and to make us feel more like Nick Carraway, like outsiders. With Mulligan in this leading female role, this is not quite achieved, even though aspects of the dumb blonde are played well.

Carraway himself is played well by Tobey Maguire, although the character whose role he performs is done a disservice thanks to his narration being framed as part of a device not imagined by Fitzgerald, with him telling his story to a doctor in a mental institution. With the story of The Great Gatsby already having so many layers to explore, this one seemed superfluous and thereby disappointing.

The film ends with the novel's famous final lines being etched across the screen, with this being one of the few times that we see Fitzgerald's dazzling prose being evoked in all its glory. By paring back the prose so much in this film, we are left principally with the brute force of the story's tragedy, and while the tragic aspects are not unimportant, there is more to The Great Gatsby than this. The focus on appealing to young audiences means that glitz and glamour, and the supposed depth of Gatsby and Daisy's relationship, are prioritized over the devastating beauty of the prose itself and the characters' ultimate shallowness, as well as that of the world they inhabit. The novel's undercurrent and climax of superficiality are not fully fulfilled in this movie version, making it obvious that all of the public relations officers currently extolling the virtues of 1920s fashion, makeup and homewares in order to cash in on the Gatsby theme clearly have little knowledge of the book's real message - making it perhaps unlikely that after watching this film, students of Fitzgerald's work will look beyond the adaptation's glamorous setting to the novel's intense beauty.

Gatsby fever

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As a massive fan of F Scott Fitzgerald's classic novella The Great Gatsby, and much less of a fan of the Robert Redford movie version, I've been waiting with bated breath for Baz Luhrmann's latest filmic interpretation to be released (not least because I'm a bit of a Leo DiCaprio fan).

Hopefully, thanks not only to the inclusion of other big stars such as Carey Mulligan, my students should find the film attractive as well, as it features plenty of new music from contemporary heroes Jay-Z, Beyonce, Andre 3000, Lana Del Rey, and many more. Wednesday 22nd May signals the day that I'll be going to see it - a week after its release, crowds should (I hope) have died down a little. Rest assured you'll be hearing all about it once I get back - I'm eager to see how well Luhrmann has translated Fitzgerald's elegant prose, beautiful setting and his characters' sense of underlying despair into a screen context.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (Deborah Moggach)

--The blurb--
"Enticed by advertisements for a newly restored palatial hotel and filled with visions of a life of leisure, good weather and mango juice in their gin, a group of very different people leave England to begin a new life in India. On arrival they are dismayed to find the palace is a shell of its former self, the staff more than a little eccentric, and the days of the Raj long gone. But, as they soon discover, life and love can begin again, even in the most unexpected circumstances."

--The review--
Film tie-ins are rarely going to have a negative effect on the reception of an author's work, but equally rarely does it raise awareness, as many of the films that are spawned by books are by authors that are already well-known. Think of recent releases: The Life of Pi, Cloud Atlas, Les Misérables, Anna Karenina and The Great Gatsby are all by established authors whose canon (whether in whole or in part) is considered classic. However, one hopes that the 2012 release of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel will have significantly boosted the profile of writer Deborah Moggach, whose novel-publishing history in fact stretches back more than thirty years.

If done well, the film should have encapsulated Deborah Moggach's engaging plot successfully, as well as managing to recreate the unforgettable characters with which it is peopled. Novels tend to focus on the young, whereas Moggach has chosen to zoom in on a group of old folks whose families are trying desperately (for various reasons) to send them off to the nearest retirement home. Such an approach perhaps risked being stuffy or predictable, but in the author's capable hands there was not only chemistry between the group (and sparks flying between individuals) but fiery personalities to keep readers amused when characters were alone. Varying degrees of intellect and likeability help, too, to create a realistic cast. This is followed up right the way through their lives' outcomes: the fact that not all of the pensioners sail off into the sunset is also a true reflection of what we can expect in real life.

Juxtaposed with this dose of reality is the idyllic setting of India, where much is made of the awe-inspiring sunsets, distinctive streets, tourist attractions and unique bazaars. However, even here Moggach does not pull any punches, equally taking the opportunity to highlight India's problems of poverty and access to education and health services. Nonetheless, in doing so, she does not make her novel into a deliberate polemic: her commentary on Indian society does not go into detail and as such, is no more than another part of her story's patchwork, which also incorporates poignancy, a thrusting plot, and great humour.

Humour is the main characteristic of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, and even if at times we can see where the jokes are going, this does not in the end make them any less amusing. A secondary, but also important, feature is the book's revelatory nature: not only does Moggach carefully control what we learn about her characters and when we learn it, but she also keeps them on an equally tight leash, only letting them realise new things about themselves at meticulously chosen moments. This, too, leads to the reader's own realisations: not just about their own attitudes to their elderly relatives, but also about what we would like for ourselves when we become old.

The book's original title, These Foolish Things, is an interesting extra dimension to the novel, as throughout the characters' attempts to grasp their new surroundings and whether or not they have been satisfied with their long lives, there is a persistent theme of them firstly hanging doggedly onto objects that we might consider frivolous, which is a way of distracting them from or enabling them to cope with their various states of desperation; and secondly, wondering if they are worrying over nothing. Thirdly, the book's original title could have ironic undertones: things, people or decisions in our lives that we could consider foolish or unimportant can actually turn out to be very important indeed with the hindsight that old age provides.

Readers will therefore be left with a sense of satisfaction and enlightenment, and a feeling that they have been entertained by high-class writing. Moggach's powers of description, momentum, character-building and humour are not to be ignored, and whether you have read The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, or seen the film, or both, it will surely spur you on to investigate the rest of her work.

other novels by Deborah Moggach
You Must Be Sisters (1978)
Close to Home (1979)
A Quiet Drink (1980)
Hot Water Man (1982)
Porky (1983)
To Have and to Hold (1986)
Driving in the Dark (1988)
Stolen (1990)
The Stand-In (1991)
Ex-Wives (1993)
Seesaw (1996)
Close Relations (1997)
Tulip Fever (1999)
Final Demand (2001)
In The Dark (2007)
Heartbreak Hotel (2013)  

Film Review: Anna Karenina

The 2012 version of Anna Karenina on the big screen has been profusely advertised in France in the run-up to its release on December 5th, and so it's hardly surprising that the cinema was packed on the opening night with fans waiting to see the faces of Jude Law and Keira Knightley wrestle with the very definition of what love is or should be. This well-known pair was teamed up with rising stars Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Alicia Vikander in key supporting roles. So what did these four immense talents show us about this classic Russian love story, through the prism of director Joe Wright's (Pride and Prejudice; Atonement) interpretation of it? 

Although Keira Knightley is something of a love-hate figure for many, there's little denying her excellence as an actress. It's hard to believe that at the tender age of 27, she has already been in training for more than ten years, bursting onto the nation's screens in independent British film Bend It Like Beckham before storming into blockbusters such as Love Actually and Pirates of the Caribbean. Her co-actors have an equally star-studded record, between them appearing in such works as The Talented Mr Ripley, Nowhere Boy, and Gosford Park. Joe Wright and Keira Knightley are also known for their close professional partnership, having worked together on a number of successful period dramas. The stakes are therefore high, particularly as they all take on one of the mightiest works of Russian literature. It's a book that lingers for its strong characters and emotions that run high, and this adaptation also has plenty to live up to, thanks to the fact that more than ten adaptations of the novel have preceded it since 1914.

The story itself is specific to its time period, yet all-encompassing and timeless in its message: a young Russian woman, married to a much older man, ends up having an affair with a count her own age. However, once she has decided to leave her husband and go to live with him, she cannot live with the effects and consequences of her choices. Wright's version of the film (whose script was written by acclaimed playwright Tom Stoppard) highlights Tolstoy's use of foreshadowing through minor characters, making full use of these as main events, and this contributes to the film's sense of building anticipation throughout as well as its highly successful dénouement. 

Even those who dislike Knightley normally are likely to marvel at her emotional engagement with the role of the eponymous protagonist. The real star of the show, though, is the up-and-coming 24-year-old Alicia Vikander, who plays Kitty, and in doing so proves herself as one to watch over the coming years. Her maturity beyond her years in her acting style is mirrored in Kitty's equally old head on young shoulders, making her an excellent choice for the role.

However, the characters and the story are occasionally detracted from by the strange setting of a stage, which is returned to again and again for various scenes (making it not quite a composite set, but almost). While at times it worked well (for example, during the scene at the races), more often than not it just seemed awkward, and although it had its elegant beauty, its inclusion was ultimately distracting and did not seem to be used for any good reason. The reason for its use was never made obvious to the film's viewers, with the closest plausible theory perhaps being that it is supposed to be some sort of Brechtian device, intended to remind viewers that we are only watching a film, and ought to be using the film's themes to reflect upon our own lives, not to become emotionally involved with the characters themselves.

Others also complain that in comparison to other versions of Anna Karenina on the big screen, the main character's complex personality is only superficially explored. Having not seen these other adaptations, it is difficult to agree in the same way, but ultimately I concur: the original text itself is hugely detailed and any modern film version is likely to be hugely distilled in this regard. Wright's version of this seminal work is therefore about as faithful to the original as it can be given the broad audience that it is trying to reach.

Nevertheless, in essence, Wright's film is a successful and accessible introduction to this classic Tolstoy novel, with emotions enhanced by Dario Marianelli's soaring soundtrack (which is heart-rending without being sentimental), the visual feast of period costume, and images contrasted by strong snowy landscapes. The negatives mentioned above fade into the background thanks to the accomplished acting and already dramatic storyline, and even if said negatives mean that comparison to other filmic versions is warranted, it ultimately makes the viewer want to rush out and read Anna Karenina in all its thought-provoking and emotive detail - or indeed even read it all over again.