whoever owns the rights to The Great Gatsby

“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald was the first “Great American Novel” of the 20^th century. It serves as a story of the unquenchable desire to accumulate wealth in America, and the sometimes unfathomable motives behind that kind of aspiration. And it seems as though the tale of Gatsby is thoroughly irresistible to Hollywood. If you didn’t get a chance to see the adaptation of this classic novel for the screen back in 1926, or 1949, or 1974, or 2000, don’t worry – here it comes again.

About every thirty years, someone in Hollywood turns to somebody else and says, “Hey, ya know what I haven’t seen in a while?,” and another top-bill, young, blond-haired, good-looking actor is thrown into a yellow tie and dawns a Yale smirk of entitlement. This year, the task of portraying Jay Gatsby goes to Leonardo Dicaprio.

On May 10, 2013, “The Great Gatsby,” as directed by Baz Luhrmann, will hit theatres. Dicaprio plays Gatsby, a mysteriously wealthy World War I veteran who is driven to not only steal away the love of his neighbor from her husband, but sway her to admit that she never loved him. His neighbor, Daisy Buchanan, is played by Carey Mulligan. Tobey Maguire, Joel Edgerton and Isla Fisher also star in the film. This will be the fourth time this story has been told on the big screen (that’ not including 2000’s television film adaptation). So, we get it, right? Why try it again?

It’s no secret that Hollywood loves remakes. And why shouldn't they? They get to rely on the audience’s familiarity with the film’s concept to help sell it. Any questions regarding the intricate plotlines of “The Karate Kid” or “Footloose?” No, probably not. It’s easy; the work’s almost done for you. Just redo the poster. In tough economic times, moviegoers will look to something familiar in the hopes of not wasting their money. People aren’t looking to gamble these days. Producing remakes allows Hollywood to pump out more movies, in greater number and faster than original concepts that can take years to develop. Also, with the exception of 2005, Hollywood is doing better than ever, with ever-souring profits. So, why try to fix what ain’t broken.

Well, critics might have a few reasons to start taking chances on original content. Some bloggers, not this one of course, have met the announcements of some remakes with death threats. It’s amazing to me that the premiere storytellers in America are so bashful when it comes to attempting to tell their own stories. Of course, if it’s a showdown between your average Hollywood scriptwriter and F. Scott Fitz-friggin’-gerald, guess who’s going to bow down first? If the scripts “The Great Gatsby” and “Being John Malcovich” both hit a producer’s desk at the same time, guess which one is going to be considered? And that’s the sad part. Every “now classic” story was once a what-the-hell-does-Being John Macofish-supposed-to-mean story. Crack it open. Give something new a chance. You might be pleasantly surprised.

I mentioned Leo being thrown into a yellow tie earlier. Yes, that is actually significant. And so is his yellow car, Daisy’s yellow buttons, and so is the fact that the flowers at the party in which Gatsby and Daisy are reunited are described as smelling like “pale gold.” The pursuit of that purity that only pure gold can offer and the newness its shine radiates are two of the impossibilities that Gatsby longs for.  He hopes to return to a time when he never lost his love (that golden opportunity that slipped away in his golden youth), and he can see that green light of hope out his window, shining from Daisy’s home. Hollywood sees gold in the infallible framework that F. Scott Fitzgerald has constructed, and they see the security of yet another remake. And Hollywood hopes the green will pour in like it did back in their Golden Age. Hollywood’s reasoning behind their obsession over “The Great Gatsby” is obvious, as Gatsby’s desires serve as a metaphor for the town’s longing for revival. It’s Hollywood’s little piece of meta-filmmaking; the Great American Autobiography.

“You can’t repeat the past? Why, of course you can.” And it’s coming to a theatre near you.

Heat

1995 was a great year for movies. “Se7en,” “The Usual Suspects,” “Kids,” “Twelve Monkeys,” Die Hard: With a Vengeance,” Apollo 13,” “Desperado,” “Leaving Las Vegas,” “Mallrats,” “Grumpier Old Men ,” “Dead Man” and Casino” all hit theatres, and are all at the top of my list for that year. Not to mention instant classics like, “Showgirls,” “Waiting to Exhale “and say it with me, “Free Willy 2: Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Johnny Mnemonic.”

However, “Heat,” directed by Michael Mann, stands out most in my mind as not only a great crime thriller, but as a 170-minute-long acting class. Set in Los Angeles, a small circle of high stakes thieves, led by Robert De Niro as Neil McCauley, leave evidence at the scene of their latest heist, an armored car robbery. The LAPD, led by Al Pacino as Lt. Vincent Hanna, catch the scent and begin to close in. McCauley is aging and, with all this “Heat,” is beginning to consider retirement just as he is talked into one more risky bank robbery. Lt. Hanna is relentless in his detective work. So much so, that his personal life begins to crumble as his wife openly cheats on him and his stepdaughter, played by Natalie Portman, attempts suicide. The two men, dedicated to finish what they have started and uphold their respective obligations, are set on a collision course with one another. A part of both men want out of their lifestyles, but each is simultaneously married to it and cannot bring themselves to break free. As most crime films operate in a sort of cat-and-mouse chase, De Niro and Pacino are set in a game of chicken. The only question is who will swerve first?

Pacino plays his Lieutenant Detective as a damaged and obsessed man, at the exact moment he starts to lose his grip on his life and family. “You don't live with me. You live among the remains of dead people. You sift through the debris, you read the terrain, you search for signs of passing, for the scent of your prey, and then you hunt them down. That's the only thing you're committed to. The rest is the mess you leave as you pass through,” his wife says. De Niro is equally weathered, but still sharp and is looking to start over in a new place, with his new girlfriend.  “I'm alone, I am not lonely,” he says.

Robert De Niro and Al Pacino are two of America’s most exciting and talented actors. You might not believe that from some of their most recent role choices, but trust me. In this film, these two actors team-up for the first time. Both actors came into prominence through the first two parts of “The Godfather” series, and both cemented their stay in Hollywood with their following performances: Pacino as “Serpico” and De Niro as the “Taxi Driver.” And although both actors played in “The Godfather Part II,” they only share a crossfade. In “Heat,” the two finally share a scene with dialogue. And it is well worth the weight. The entire movie could have been absolute crap, and this scene would make it all worthwhile. Lt. Hanna gets a tip that McCauley is on the move. Lt. Hanna pulls him over and asks he wants to get a cup of coffee at an LA diner. Both men know there isn’t enough evidence out there to end this, but they feel compelled to meet one another.

In this scene, something interesting is exposed: the two men are mirror images of one another. Not physically, but simply by their nature. The only thing separating them is the side of the law on which they stand. Something Mick Jagger put as, “Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners saints.” Both men understand that quite obviously their missions contradict one another’s, but they are beginning to realize they will be each other’s undoing. At the diner, they share a brief moment in which this becomes apparent. McCauley says, “I do what I do best, I take scores. You do what you do best, try to stop guys like me.” Lt. Hanna responds, “If it's between you and some poor bastard whose wife you're going to turn into a widow... brother, you are going down.” The lines that define these two characters begin to blur as the plot thickens. By the grand finale, both are left as only shadowy figures, circling each other.

The Last Emperor

This 60th Annual Academy Award Winner for Best Picture is a biopic about Puyi, from his childhood in the 1950s, through his career as Emperor of the People's Republic of China and his eventual imprisonment.

However, another film was released in 1987, and it deserves another look. “Full Metal Jacket,” directed by Stanley Kubrick, follows a platoon (specifically a Marine nicknamed “Joker”) from boot camp training to Vietnam.

This film could be viewed as two separate, short films: the first half following new recruits through basic training at Paris Island, and the second half following a different group of Marines through the Vietnam War. “Joker,” the protagonists, and “Cowboy,” a supporting character, are the only two constant characters throughout the entire film. “Joker,” played by Mathew Modine, is an interesting character choice to lead the audience through the film. We aren't ever told where he came from (volunteer or drafted?), and we aren't even directly told his real name. All it seems the director has decided we should know is that this man is an all-American boy who is here, now and there’s no getting out of it. As this begins to dawn on “Joker” he is forced, as I’m sure many young men were, as to how best to deal and adapt to this new reality in Southeast Asia. “Joker” represents a duality of ideals that is embodied in many Americans: we want and work toward peace, but we’re more than willing to fight for it. This is even pointed out in the film, as his helmet even reads “born to kill,” while he simultaneously wears a peace symbol. He projects a facade of bravado, but is visibly nervous with every new turn events that brings him closer to the enemy. He often quotes John Wayne in the company of his platoon, but can cite Carl Yung and confides in a single soldier during an attack, “I hope they’re just f---ing with us. I ain’t ready for this sh--.”

 Another interesting aspect of the film is its depiction of violence. Kubrick has been criticized, citing films like “Paths of Glory,” “Dr. Strangelove,” “A Clockwork Orange” and “Full Metal Jacket,” as being cold, detached and lacking in humanity when showing violence. However, this seems like a contradiction, as most of the complaints stem from the horrific way it’s depicted. How exactly do you want violence depicted in movies then? I think a cartoonish or humorous depiction of violence is far more terrible. The realism of violence, and at times “ultra-violence,” in Kubrick’s films serve a point and furthers the plot or forces emotion.  In Full Metal Jacket, the violence, as seen by “Joker,” is always shown in slow motion. This drives home the horror, as he sees it. Toward the end of the film, when a sniper turns toward “Joker,” it is shown in slow motion and the audience can take away what it wants from that bit of foreshadowing.

Odd and often surprising moments of symbolism can be found throughout the movie. To me, the most interesting instances involve references to Mickey Mouse.

During the climactic ending to “Joker’s” military training career, "Gomer Pyle" is found in “the head” with a loaded rifle. When Senior Drill Instructor Hartman burst in the door to break up the situation, he screams, “What is this Mickey Mouse horsesh--!” Later, when “Joker” meets with fellow military journalists to discuss the recent Vietcong blitzkrieg, a small Mickey Mouse figurine can be seen just over his shoulder. Toward the end of the film, the platoon marches away from a victory, filled with pride and singing, “Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me? M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E… Mickey Mouse!” It seems that every time “Joker” enters a new phase in his advancement deeper into Vietnam, Mickey is there. Are the men longing for a fearless leader to keep their club safe as they grow into men? Are they longing for something, or anything that brings them back or reminds them of America?

 Often cited as being fairly down on the list of Stanley Kubrick’s best films, this film has grown in popularity over the years. I think it might be the most honest and un-Hollywoodized depiction of the Vietnam War. From most of the interviews I have watched that include interviews of Vietnam veterans, I gather that the horrors of that war were split somewhat evenly between first-hand encounters of extreme violence and loss, and the agonizing suspense of soldiers waiting for the inevitable violence of war. This latter aspect is precisely what “Full Metal Jacket” explores, and Kubrick investigates this with supreme precision. At times, the suspense is absolutely unbearable, and with this, a new and often-ignored aspect of war is uncovered.

This is my favorite film by Stanley Kubrick. I’ve seen it dozens of times, and it never seems to get old. It’s quotable. It’s unforgettable. It’s a classic.

Gigi

This 31st Annual Academy Award Winner, is a musical romantic comedy, directed by Vincente Minnelli, that follows the courtship of Gigi as Gaston, an upper-class playboy, spends time with her in early 1900s Paris.  

However, another film was released in 1958, and it deserves another look. For me, “Vertigo” is one of the most intriguing and rewatchable (not sure if that’s a word, it should be) movies made. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. It is No. 1 on “AFI’s 10 Top 10” “mystery” list, and just last year replaced “Citizen Kane” as “the best film of all time” by Sight & Sound magazine’s critics’ poll.

The film follows “Scottie” Ferguson, played James Stewart, as a recently retired San Franciscan police detective, who is now battling depression and vertigo after seeing an officer fall to his death during a foot chase.  Too young to stay complacent in his retirement, Scottie is talked into “tailing” an acquaintance’s wife, Madeleine, with the objective of disproving any suspicions that her recent, odd behaviors are a sign that she is possessed.  Scottie follows Madeleine, played by Kim Novak, as she spends her day visiting the grave of Carlotta Valdes (we later find out she committed suicide) and later spends hours in an art museum, staring at a painting of a woman almost identical to herself, entitled “Portrait of Carlotta.” The next day, Madeleine jumps into the San Francisco Bay, but Scottie saves her, takes her to his home and the two share a tender moment before she disappears into the night. Scottie later accompanies her on a day date, now fearful she might attempt suicide again, but still denying any paranormal aspect to the situation. Scottie and Madeleine kiss and profess for one another’s love just before she abruptly tares herself away from Scottie, runs up the bell tower and leaps to her death. Scottie, ashamed of the vertigo that disables him and his resulting inability to save her, he sinks further into depression and near madness. After a slow recovery, he wanders all the locations he and Madeleine had previously visited and occasionally, in his delusion, spots women he mistakes for his lost love. One day, Scottie spots a woman who looks remarkably like Madeleine and lost in obsession, he decides to take her out, change her make-up, her clothes and at one point, even her name; giving himself a second shot at having the woman for whom he’s pining.

The film’s title is analogous to Scottie’s spiraling decent into madness. The film feels like you’re moving downward, deeper into obsession, deeper into depression and deeper into the story’s web. Hitchcock, the film’s director, can do that – the kid had some promise. In fact, Hitchcock’s films are on the verge of taking over “AFI’s 10 Top 10” “mystery” list, with “Vertigo,” “Rear Window,” “North by Northwest” and “Dial M for Murder.” The hilly streets of San Francisco afford the perfect setting to symbolically illustrate Scottie’s decent, as one wrong turn, down the wrong street, could send our detective further into melancholia and rock bottom. One film critic has even pointed out that an overwhelming majority of parked cars in the background are all pointing downhill, possibly showing the pull of Scottie’s surrounding environment in that direction.  Early in the film, Scottie’s ex-girlfriend mentions that perhaps only another trauma could jog him out of his acrophobia, and the film’s climax forces Scottie to conquer his crippling fear of heights and the bell tower from which Madeleine jumped. This poses the dichotomous theory that a literal assent could hold the key to Scottie’s mental salvation.

Let there be light! A few aspect of this film prohibit it from being classified as absolute film-noir, but the greatest difference between “Vertigo” and any other detective story, including even the comedic “The Big Lebowski,” is the sheer amount of light allowed in each scene. I mean, the film takes place in San Francisco for Pete’s sake! There are a lot of really dark things being explored under throughout many beautiful days with bright sunshine and clear, blue skies. When this light is ripped away from us, we know it’s about to get real. One of the most horrifying scenes in movie history takes place at night, in Madeleine’s dark hotel room. With only the eerie light of the hotel’s green neon light spilling into the room form the window, Scottie allows his delusion to take over as the final stage of Madeleine’s transformation completes.

I don’t know how to best classify this movie into one, particular film genre; it’s a mystery, a psychological thriller, a drama, a detective story, a horror film, a love story ­­­­­– all Hitchcock.