Head-to-Head: The Great Gatsby, Part 1 (Nick Carraway, and Jay Gatsby)

I should probably note that I have also seen the 2000 television adaptation of 'The Great Gatsby', but the less said about that the better. I really am not in the mood to re-visit and re-watch it at all, so I'll just say that Mira Sorvino and Paul Rudd, two actors I usually really like, give pretty poor interpretations of Daisy and Nick, Toby Stephens is not offensively bad but very bland (compared to his excellent work in 'Jane Eyre' it's astounding how large a rift there is between these two portrayal of enigmatic wealthy men), and the rest of the cast is very forgettable. Instead I will focus on the 1974 Jack Clayton adaptation, and the 2013 Baz Luhrmann adaptation.

The 1974 adaptation of 'Gatsby' is probably one of the most standard film adaptations I've ever seen. It's never offensively bad, and I will admit I did take quite a liking to the overall set and designs, and particularly the costumes which evoked that very particular period of the Roaring Twenties quite well. I will say though that what lies beneath the pretty surface is a lot more lifeless than appearances suggest. There are certain scenes that have a bit of charm to it, and some performances that are effective, but it's mostly pretty by-the-books, and Clayton really doesn't seem to have much innovation with his workman-like directorial style, displaying nothing of the brilliant sense of pacing and tension that he brought to my all-time favourite horror film, 'The Innocents'. It plays everything pretty safe to the point that one really can't find any sort of adaptation value in some of the more exposition-heavy scenes. I did not hate watching it, but there are parts which really drag throughout, and the script (which apparently went through many revisions) kind of messes up several key moments I'll get into soon. The 2013 Baz Luhrmann adaptation is most certainly my preferred of the two. I'd even go so far as to say that in some ways I loved it, although again I am a bit of a Luhrmann apologist, his particularly frentic, MV-esque style of direction having always appealed to me on a purely aesthetic level, and it does work magically in certain moments here to perfectly represent of the excessive hedonistic pleasures of the Twenties. My passion for it has dwindled a bit on re-watches, though, as on reflection there are certain bits where Luhrmann could've toned his shtick down a bit, also there are a few iffy moments here and there with how the original source material is dealt with.

But enough of that. What about the performances themselves?

Robert Redford and Leonardo DiCaprio played Jay Gatsby in the 1974 and 2013 versions of 'The Great Gatsby', respectively.

Robert Redford (top) and Leonardo DiCaprio (bottom)

I am a massive fan of Robert Redford; I've been tempted for oh so long to give him my 1976 win in Lead for his brilliant turn in 'All the President's Men', and when you needed a go-to leading man with looks and talent to spare in the 1970's, you couldn't go wrong with Redford so long as the director of the film and script were decent enough. On paper Redford sounds like just about the perfect choice to play Jay Gatsby. Good-looking, with an almost intangible charm to him, star power...and unfortunately, I have to say the film as a whole kind of mucks this all up from his very first scene. I have no idea what the scriptwriters and Clayton were thinking, drawing out Gatsby's entrance like he's Don Corleone or something, and unfortunately I have to say this is definitely a case where directorial and script missteps set the performance off on the wrong tone from the very start. It's a complete deviation from the very casual meeting scene of the book. I also do have to criticize Redford a bit here as he plays this first scene, and indeed much of his performance, in this very stilted, wooden fashion that really nullifies most of his strengths as an actor, as does Clayton's direction; whereas Luhrman, far more aware of the star quality of his leading man than Clayton seems to, does things differently and far more effectively for DiCaprio that in turn works out much better. Luhrman's excessive camerawork and flamboyant CGI aside, Nick's first meeting with Gatsby, and out first meeting with him, is actually much more in tune with the book as he emerges from the crowd as 'a man about my age' before astounding Nick with 'You see old sport...I'm Gatsby'. DiCaprio is absolutely pitch-perfect in this moment as he revels in all his star-power and charisma with that look, absolutely earning the whole mythic status of Gatsby as somehow being above it all, and yet with characteristic 21st-Century DiCaprio-isms, grounding him too as just another guy as well, who's kind of playing a role, but a role he's so gotten used to that it's almost become him.

It's a fantastic scene and I won't lie in that the initial scenes of setting up the whole grandeur and allure of Gatsby are DiCaprio's high points in his performance. He certainly does not just use his intrinsic charm and presence do all the work as there's some very interesting character work done in between the lines too, moments in which we get faint glimpses behind the enigma. Whether it be little hints at a darker, more criminal edge to his business proceedings, or that underlying passion for the 'green light' he conveys in an almost childish sort of manner, it's incredibly fascinating to watch how the usually very intense DiCaprio (the intense persona being one I usually feel is a bit hit-and-miss) almost does a Jimmy Stewart, 'aw shucks' sort of routine with how likably affable and welcoming he is, but also with an intensity of different sorts, that comes from his star persona. It's funny to note how he played Jay Gatsby and Jordan Belfort in 'The Wolf of Wall Street' in the same year as technically speaking he's playing wealthy, powerful men in both films, the fascinating differentiation being that whereas Belfort's charm is almost entirely sleazy and yet entirely natural, and effortlessly attractive to the prospective buyer, Gatsby's feels a lot more earnest, but paradoxically with a tinge of artifice and off-putting excessiveness to it all. One could argue that DiCaprio overplays the whole Gatsby-ishness of Gatsby a bit here, but I for one think it works wonderfully. In the same way that Belfort's extremely uncouth and unrestrained sinfulness of his wealthy ways was so darn hilarious in WOWS, Gatsby's extremes are played to perfection by DiCaprio, and broken down beautifully in the scene where he comes face to face with his long-lost love, Daisy. In this scene the whole breakdown of Gatsby from his usual excessive confidence, into an incredibly lacking presence, an absence of his usual manners, descending into a man who's so strung along by his passions that it is both sad and, in a way, quite funny.

In 'All the President's Men', 'Three Days of Concord', and 'All is Lost' Redford would always play even his average joes with just the right amount of charm in order to get the audience on his side, before then setting about making interesting variations on this type. Here it seems like he's almost too impatient, or maybe the director was too impatient, for Redford to start ACTING, as opposed to settling into, the role. The stiffness I suppose does work for showing just how 'noveau riche' and pretentious Gatsby is with his 'old sports' and everything, but on the other hand it just makes it a bit unbelievable why Nick would be so allured by him apart from the fact that he has money (Nick is a shameless golddigger whose conception of Gatsby's godlike qualities are but dollar-bill facades covering his eyes: discuss!). His 'smile with the quality of eternal reassurance' is more awkward than anything, unlike DiCaprio's which just effortlessly oozes confidence. However as the film comes along his performance improves. Though his reunion scene with Daisy is quite iffy (although a lot of blame in that scene lies at someone else's feet, who I'll get to in my next post), after that point Redford is just fine at doing his usual leading man stuff as the romantic lead, with less charm than usual I may add, but still enough to make him enjoyable enough to watch. DiCaprio on the other hand, turns in a slightly less interesting performance after his reunion with Daisy, as the film and he start to rid Gatsby of that star persona, and more in line with the usual DiCaprio line of dramatic performances which involves a whole lot of angst and yelling and screaming and EMOTING. Not that he's bad at any of that, in fact he's quite moving in the scene where he expresses to Nick after a party how much Daisy means to him, and appropriately intense when confronting Tom Buchanan (I am a huge advocate of DiCaprio appearing in a proper horror film sometime, a la his predecessor Jack Nicholson in 'The Shining', because when he wants to he can make some genuinely terrifying faces), and Gatsby flipping out has the proper sort of viscreal quality, but it just feels a lot less interesting than the enigma of before.

Perhaps that's the intention of Luhrman's direction, to break down our preconceptions of DiCaprio's star wattage and making him, and disappointing us, into a revelation of a man who merely 'turned out all right at the end', an insignificant man in contrast to his environment which swallowed him whole. Redford I will say hits his performance's high heights (though never nearly as high as DiCaprio's) once Gatsby reflects on the fallout of the tragedy, and actually reminded me a lot of his best scenes in 'Three Days of Concord' by his genuinely heartfelt, saddening reactions to the misery he has inadvertently caused, and fear over his predicament. There's a paranoid Howard Hughes edge (on a separate note I think it's a darn shame Redford never got to play Hughes as he would have been far more fitting for a 1970's biopic than DiCaprio was in 'The Aviator) he gives Gatsby in these final scenes with his silent looks, which makes me kind of wish they'd just thrown away the book at this point and let Gatsby live onto a sequel. Heck they'd muddled it up enough by that point, so why not find a way for Redford to develop these final scenes into something more fascinating than what the 1974 version limited him into? Anyway I do think DiCaprio, despite his lesser second half (more to do with the material he's given than him), does give a far better performance than Redford as Gatsby. Although I have to say I do like Redford more than DiCaprio as an actor (who is someone I find that I either really love or just can't really get into, depending on the type of performance he's giving, i.e. I loved his work in Gilbert Grape, I'm not a big fan of The Departed or The Aviator), and I think had he been given better material and direction to work with, could've turned this final result of mine around quite significantly.

DiCaprio: 4.5/5
Redford: 3/5

Sam Waterston and Tobey Maguire played Nick Carraway in the 1974 and 2013 versions of 'The Great Gatsby', respectively.

Sam Waterston (top) and Tobey Maguire (bottom)

In the same vein that I am a Baz Luhrmann apologist, I will fully admit to being much more of a fan of Mr Maguire than most people seem to be. While I agree that overall he is a fairly limited in terms of his acting range, there is no one better at doing his particular brand of awkward, endearing charm, and when he gets a chance to stretch himself it does, if nothing else, provide an interesting performance. I really like him in the likes of 'The Ice Storm', 'Seabiscuit', 'The Cider House Rules', and of course, as Peter Parker (he's my favourite incarnation of the character, although good luck to Mr Hollander, and Garfield was never bad). Anyway I digress. How is he as Nick Carraway?

In short: it's a problematic performance, but with more good things about it than bad. I say problematic because one of the main problems Maguire encounters, and which Waterston quite easily dodges, is the tone he strikes with his voiceover narration. I've said again and again that 'The Great Gatsby' really is Nick Carraway's story, and a lot of that falls on how his narrative voice constructs this platonic conception of Jay Gatsby, Daisy and all the rotten lot. Maguire's narration is not bad at all, and I feel bad for saying this, but it just resembles his voiceover narration in 'Spider-Man' too much. And hey, I guess I shouldn't complain too much seeing as how much I enjoyed his Peter Parker, and how easily it draws you into the film, but it also doesn't really fit in with his 'present-day' portrayal of Nick. He doesn't really add any of the cynicism and world-weariness he shows in Nick when in the 'present-day' scenes which is a shame, because he's actually quite good in those, where he depicts Nick's alcoholism as being a by-product of his 'unaffected scorn' for all. It's pretty visceral work from Maguire and it's a shame he doesn't really build on it with his narration, because even though it works just fine for the film it could've been a lot better. Waterston, on the other hand, does the narration just fine. From what little I've seen of Waterston he was an actor who specialised in playing the reactive straight man to more emotional characters and events, and his narration and performance certainly falls in line here. His voiceover feels very much of its time, as I would say his whole voice and accent is far more attuned to the whole post-war America feel of the film than Maguire's is to his, but also with a slight cynical edge which I quite liked.

Outside of narration, one thing to note is that despite being the main character, Nick Carraway never really has an obvious moment to 'shine', in the cinematic sense. Since so much of Nick's characterization in the book comes from his narration, this leaves a lot to the Waterston and Maguire to find character through little reactive moments to other characters. Waterston again I think betters Maguire in the initial scenes as he is just that little bit more believable as a man of his time, and also crafts Nick into a very unassuming sort who internalizes a lot of his feelings towards the more extroverted characters. Maguire on the other hand overdoes the whole idealistic, fresh-faced routine a tad bit, but once he comes face to face with DiCaprio's Gatsby his performance immediately becomes a lot more naturalistic. He and DiCaprio have some fantastic chemistry, which I have no doubt had a lot to do with the actor's long-time friendship, and their scenes together are some of the best scenes of the film, where he really adds a lot to both the film and DiCaprio's performance by his facial reactions, gradually finding his way into the disillusionment and yet unwavering love, he has for Gatsby. Waterston I think has a bit less spark in the equivalent scenes in his performance, a lot of this owing to the fact that the camera seems to almost ignore him whenever the bigger stars of Redford, Mia Farrow and Bruce Dern are onscreen. Credit to him, though, for still maintaining that consistently endearing naiveté to the character, and is properly moving in the final scenes of the film where he expresses the fallout of this American Dream shattered by his reactive performance. When he's alone with Redford in the latter's final scenes, I actually quite love his performance as he expresses such an innocent warmth and love for Gatsby and yet also a more mature edge of anger to his berating of Gatsby's childish clinging onto Daisy. He does not get to showboat like Maguire does in some of the latter confrontation scenes (which I should note he does do very well), but for the time being I think I will give the edge to Waterston's more consistent performance, although Maguire hits the higher highs.

Waterston: 4
Maguire: 3.5

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Acting for Two: Playing 'Doubles' Onscreen

There's often a very fine line between the similarities and distinctions not only the actor, but the script and direction, has to take with regards to cinematic instances of 'acting for two'. The thespian is effectively playing two completely distinctive persons, yet the whole way the film is structured must also allow for the similarities to seep through, lest the actor be accused of must doing two roles without mending any links in between, the auteur be accused of tonal indifference (which can sometimes happen when the 'twins' seem to be coming from entirely different genres), or the screenwriter lambasted for treating the two figures with unequal emphasis.

It can sometimes come across as quite gimmicky, then, to cast the same actor in two (and sometimes, more) roles with similar, and sometimes exactly the same, features. I've heard similar reservations expressed with casting actors to play multiple roles in entirely different styles and guises in the same film (see: Cloud Atlas, Kind Hearts and Coronets), and in the case of the former I can kind of see where they're coming from as the best performances in the film, by Ben Whishaw and Doona Bae, did have their strengths stem largely from the power of a singular character. But I digress; we're here to look at how onscreen twins, or 'doubles', have been portrayed over the course of cinematic history.

NOTE: I have not seen Tatsuya Nakadai in Kagemusha, which some would view as making this whole article null and entirely void. My apologies; I will definitely do so at some point as Nakadai is a great actor, and one of Japan's great cinematic national treasures.

There are also spoilers for a certain Christopher Nolan film ahead; read at your own risk...

Robert Donat in The Ghost Goes West

One of perhaps the earliest examples of an actor 'acting for two'. The incredibly underrated Donat stars  as both a down-on-his luck Scottish castle owner, and his ancestor, an 18th-Century nobleman who is haunted and haunts, by the tainting of his family name. It's a breezy, inconsequential little film that's nevertheless quite a bit of fun to watch, and though Donat struggles a bit with the accent at certain points, he's effortlessly charming and lovable as the standard love interest Donald, but really shines as the titular ghost, merging both the light and dark aspects of his screen persona into one very compelling spirit.

Elsa Lancaster in Bride of Frankenstein

Another interesting choice in that Lancaster plays both creator and creation; to be exact, in the opening scene of the film she plays Mary Shelley with a cool blend of mystique and intellect; I certainly could've gone for a lot more of her portrayal of Shelley, and can't help but think how good she would've been leading a Paul Muni-esque biopic of the author. The main meat of her performance though, comes as the titular Bride. Lancaster plays the role with  aplomb; never uttering a single word but through her incredible physical command, conveying the allure firstly to entice Boris Karloff's Creature, then the ghastly and heartbreaking rejection through her seething disgust and hatred.

Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator

Charlie Chaplin's always been a favourite of mine both as an auteur and actor. His whole style of performance is unimitable; no one can do what he does, as well as him, nor can they pinpoint exactly why it works so well. In 'The Great Dictator' he so seamlessly blends together comedy and pathos, slapstick and social commentary, largely due to his terrifically differentiated performance as the titular dictator, a Hitler parody who is stupendously entertaining with his gibberish German, and immaculately 'imposing' but hilarious physical comedy; and his quietly moving depiction of a downtrodden barber who finds, loses love but in the end, gains the will the stand up in defiance of tyranny. It's terrific work that finds such differences between the two figures, and yet giving them both such distinctly Chaplin-esque flavours.

Deborah Kerr in The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp

Kerr's performance here is one I cannot praise enough. Three different character, three different stages of the lives of Roger Livesey's and Anton Walbrook's characters. Could've come across as a gimmicky motif, but Kerr finds such subtle differences between the three figures in terms of accent, posture, airs and somehow, managing to find in them all that same magnetic energy and presence that attracts our heroes to the fair dame. It's brilliant work that shows exactly why she became such a big star after this breakthrough performance.

Olivia de Havilland in The Dark Mirror

A flawed and not particularly well-made thriller, this is one of those films where the sub-par production is saved by the performances of its cast. Thomas Mitchell brings his usual gravitas to the role of the detective investigating a murder case, Lew Ayres bring his solid straight leading man credidentials to the proceedings, but this really is de Havilland's show. Playing both of a pair of very different sisters, one domineering and malevolent, the other soft-spoken and kindly, de Havilland pays such careful attention to the pitches of her voice, the way each sister moves her hands and body in accordance with their behaviours, showing audiences the promise she unleashed to its full potential in 'The Heiress' three years later.  Had she won her 1947 Oscar for this film instead of her uninteresting motherly performance in 'To Each His Own', I would perhaps be more forgiving of the Academy's failure to reward Celia Johnson.

Lee Marvin in Cat Ballou

I think, the first Academy Award given to an actor playing dual roles? The always solid Lee Marvin won a Best Actor gong for playing both Kid Shelleen, a drunkard cowboy, and his villanous brother Tim Strawn. Well, what can I say about this performance apart from it's a joy to watch. As Strawn Marvin is his usual menacing, imposing self, which contrasts hilariously with his bigger role as the lovable oaf Shelleen whose inebriated pratfalls are the stuff of comedic gold. Nothing particularly complex here, but in my opinion a thoroughly deserving win (I thought Burton and Steiger in the same year were great too, and Oskar Werner terrific, but Marvin's comic brilliance should not be chastitised for winning).

Jeremy Irons in Dead Ringers

The perfect depiction of a set of twins. Irons from start to finish just masterfully paints a portrait of not only two siblings but also their strange, twisted and yet oddly moving relationship with one another. The film itself is one of David Cronenberg's most understated and it's testament to Irons' brilliant performance that it sticks in one's mind as long as it does. I would write more but I'm not sure how; this, for once, is a performance that has been almost unanimously praised. I have not read one snippet of anyone, anywhere, who finds Irons here anything less than great, and the only thing holding him off my top 30 list here is a re-watch.

Lindsay Lohan in The Parent Trap

A deceptively simple performance by Lohan pre-Mean Girls. The film itself is just a sweet little family flick, but Lohan's achievement here is nothing to be sniffed at. She perfectly bridges together the comedic and dramatic aspects of the film and really makes us root for the both of the separated twins to get back together, since Lohan is just so good at generating chemistry with...herself. Her best work as an actress, definitely.


Leonardo DiCaprio in The Man in the Iron Mask

Now here's an interesting one. DiCaprio, fresh off the boat (pun intended) from his Titanic success, plays both the very very very very very evil (all five verys necessary) King Louis XIV and his secret twin, the man in the iron mask. I don't find his performance as the imprisoned, rightful king very interesting and frankly, a bit bland, but as the evil Louis I actually quite enjoyed some of his histronics and hissy fits. It's far from his best work, and it's clear DiCaprio needed some more time to properly hone his skills (which didn't take too long, fast forward to Catch Me If You Can in 2002, and not a hint of inexperience can be detected), but all in all still sterling work.

Nicolas Cage and John Travolta in Face/Off

How's this for a brain wracker? Nicolas Cage playing a terrorist who goes into a coma, whose identity John Travolta's FBI agent takes on by operating his face off; then Nicolas Cage taking Travolta's own face and making it his own...confused much? Don't overthink it. This is just one big, dumb action film by John Woo and I love it for what it is. I will say that I would have personally cast the film the other way round so we could have more of Cage's deliciously hammy Castor Troy, but both actors do well in both roles, and have a great deal of fun in taking on the mannerisms of each other.

Nicolas Cage in Adaptation

Cage again. Wonder what it'd be like to have Nicolas Cage as a brother? Wonder no more. 2002's terrific comedy-drama 'Adaptation' stars Cage as the screenwriter of the film, Charlie Kaufman, and his doofus brother Donald. I love this performance a great deal because it's just so, so, so entertaining. He is great as both the eccentric, endearing stupidity of Donald, and is surprisingly good in grounding Charlie as just a normal, albeit incredibly neurotic, guy. Their scenes together, or rather Cage's scenes with himself, are nothing but constant hilarity and at the end, genuinely heartfelt. I felt like I'd actually gotten to know both men incredibly well throughout the course of this performance, showing just how terrific it is.

Jesse Eisenberg in The Double

I think Eisenberg gets a lot of undeserved shit from the press for being a 'one-note' actor. Okay, so maybe he does do the same sort of schtick too often. But hey, it works, doesn't it? Maybe he did implement quite a lot of himself into his portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg, but that doesn't make his performance in that any less impressive. Anyway in this surrealist effort from Richard Ayoade Eisenberg plays an average joe infatuated with a co-worker (a fantastic Mia Wasikowska) only to have her attentions vied for by...a dead ringer for himself who's incredibly charismatic, and also a complete ass. Eisenberg is of course excellent at playing the incosiderate, fast-talking douchebag, but also very sweet and loveable as the sadsack lonely guy looking for love. It's very strong work which shows depths to Eisenberg hitherto unknown.

SPOILERS

Christian Bale in The Prestige

Simply put, a magnificent piece of an actor enshrouding himself in mystery on the go, and yet finding, somehow finding, time to stop and throw in hints here and there of what the character's true nature is. As both Bordens Bale just finds the perfect balance between showing their contrasting personalities, but also making sure to keep the mystery alive, and never giving the game away. I will need to watch and re-watch this performance over and over again to pinpoint which scene is which twin, on account of his variations of voice, intonation, how those eyes of his work and move, the amount of charisma and intensity he imbudes into a scene etc., and what more I can say about this performance apart from it being a beautiful, beautifully nuanced piece of work.

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