While Alan Ladd is perfectly cast as the titular Gatsby and despite the film’s willingness to revel in Gatsby’s darker, gangster underbelly, 1949’s The Great Gatsby is about as exciting as watching paint dry.
This, the earliest surviving adaptation, struggles to disentangle itself from the pages of the classic that inspired it. As such, there are times where the film literally stops, points and says “look, it’s that thing from the book that everybody remembers”. It’s rare then that the film finds its flow and when it does come close, a case of poor casting rears up and spoils the moment.
Few besides Ladd seem fit for the roles handed to them. Macdonald Carey’s Nick Carraway takes a back seat despite acting as the audience’s arbiter into this jazz filled orgy of excess. His over-bearing dullness is exceeded only by his aggressively enthusiastic adherence to such dullness. Barry Sullivan’s Tom Buchanan is immemorable and near inconsequential while his wife Daisy, here Betty Field, simply irritates. In fact, it could arguably be more accurate to the characters of the page. If this is the case, the film has done away with whatever romance, charm and sympathy that it needs in order to succeed.
At the very least, The Great Gatsby here is a more satisfying look at the seedy underbelly of Jazz age gangsters that earns Gatsby his wealth. The action is fast, the morals are loose and the violence bleeds. For that at least, I enjoy this Gatsby and Ladd as it’s central man.
Still, poor casting, problematic exposition dumps, and literal stop and point moments make this early attempt at America’s favourite novel a boring and disappointing film.
While Alan Ladd is perfectly cast as the titular Gatsby and despite the film’s willingness to revel in Gatsby’s darker, gangster underbelly, 1949’s The Great Gatsby is about as exciting as watching paint dry.
This, the earliest surviving adaptation, struggles to disentangle itself from the pages of the classic that inspired it. As such, there are times where the film literally stops, points and says “look, it’s that thing from the book that everybody remembers”. It’s rare then that the film finds its flow and when it does come close, a case of poor casting rears up and spoils the moment.
Few besides Ladd seem fit for the roles handed to them. Macdonald Carey’s Nick Carraway takes a back seat despite acting as the audience’s arbiter into this jazz filled orgy of excess. His over-bearing dullness is exceeded only by his aggressively enthusiastic adherence to such dullness. Barry Sullivan’s Tom Buchanan is immemorable and near inconsequential while his wife Daisy, here Betty Field, simply irritates. In fact, it could arguably be more accurate to the characters of the page. If this is the case, the film has done away with whatever romance, charm and sympathy that it needs in order to succeed.
At the very least, The Great Gatsby here is a more satisfying look at the seedy underbelly of Jazz age gangsters that earns Gatsby his wealth. The action is fast, the morals are loose and the violence bleeds. For that at least, I enjoy this Gatsby and Ladd as it’s central man.
Still, poor casting, problematic exposition dumps, and literal stop and point moments make this early attempt at America’s favourite novel a boring and disappointing film.
