That's Typing Tuesday, in which I occasionally share unpolished, unpublished writings from my vast store of unpolished, unpublished writings. On Tuesdays.
Obviously I haven't seen Baz Luhrmann's take on The Great Gatsby yet—it's not due in theaters for another year. But generally speaking, I'll say this: making a movie of The Great Gatsby is like going to a museum, taking all the pictures off the wall and studying the hooks. The dialogue and surface level action is meaningless—simply contrivances upon which Fitzgerald hung his gorgeous prose and startling insights.
I hope Baz Luhrmann can lick the problem of bringing Gatsby to life, but if he can, he'll be the first, for Gatsby is already alive, and anyone trying to adapt it to another medium necessarily has to kill it first.
Adventures in Androgyny: Constance Cummings
1 hour ago