Nick serves as a narrator, and the film is bookended by his visits to a Psychologist, a device absent from the source book. This is used to justify the first person narration, and is fairly unnoticeable, apart from one moment when his psychologist tells him in so many words that it would be cathartic to write down his experiences in a book. Guess what he calls it.
So much like The Shawshank Redemption's Red, you have this secondary character always looking up to this larger than life figure, telling you his version of the story. You get to experience the parties and decadence for the first time, with your own guide, and you feel like you're walking into something from an outside perspective. Much like Nick you are 'within and without', sucked in to the film by its glamorous style
Leo's performance is excellent in this film, and it’s hard to imagine any other living actor in the role. He has a smoothness and intensity Gatsby requires, and is the appropriate age. The character is both notoriously charming, and has a dark history and intensity that Leo pulls of in so many roles; The Departed (seething and sexy), Catch Me If You Can (charming and vulnerable) and Django Unchained (charming and creepy)
One of the elements of the film I am required to focus on is performance.
Jay Gatsby is not a man, but rather a character moulded in the imagination of a poor ambitious child. The character, born into poverty learned to be a gentleman, and I like everyone else am convinced by his charm. He is smooth and composed, and generous with his wealth and affection, and it doesn’t really matter that he wasn’t always rich.
The ‘flower scene’, a pivotal moment in the movie in which the two ill-fated lovers are reunited after five years of longing, exposes Gatsby’s vulnerability for the first time, and Leo’s performance subtly convinced me that this almost mythological character is human. Gatsby is nervously awaiting Daisy’s arrival. She is late, and he obviously flustered; like a lizard his stillness is interrupted by jerky movements, a hand flies into his pocket, he runs his hands through his hair, and he plays with his cane. Although his posture never suggests insecurity (perhaps a learned military behaviour) his face betrays him. His furrowed brow suggests extreme concentration, and his effortless charm no longer comes so easily to him. He makes an effort to look at ease, with his thumb poking out of his pocket ( a classic sign of confidence, the thumb literally pointing towards his genitals) and his bent leg (allowing him to ‘casually’ lean on his cane). This all emphasises his love of Daisy and her effect on him; she is the only person who can break the Gatsby charm.
As well as an exciting and visceral style, the performances cement this as one of Luhrmann’s best. Strictly Ballroom will always be my favourite (partly for sentimental reasons; I saw it when I was very young), but this is a close second.