THE GREAT GATSBY: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1949) ViaVision Imprint

Author F. Scott Fitzgerald’s literary opus magnum, The Great Gatsby (first published in 1925) is a novel so authentically rich in its vibrant ‘tea dance twenties’ atmosphere of ‘prohibition go-to-hell/laissez faire’ deliciously tawdry delights, it is rather easy to forget the primary focus of the book is not its ill-fated bygone romance between the titular Jay Gatsby and his flighty paramour, Daisy Buchanan, but rather Fitzgerald’s ingeniously interpolated social critiques on all those intangibly lost and morally obsequious, flapper-era peacocks and paragons, who strutted lazily through a decadent illusion, fatefully on a collision course with the reality of the ’29 stock market crash. Due to Fitzgerald’s cleverness, we bask in a forever frozen epoch of self-indulgence, subliminally to learn far more about the age that wrought many Gatsbys and their premature demise. Regrettably, ideas flourish primarily in the cerebral domain. So, perhaps it isn’t surprising to find virtually every attempt made to translate Fitzgerald’s masterwork into another medium – be it stagecraft, the movies, or TV - has failed, to varying degrees to bottle that illusory quality of sparkle magic, intangibly to linger after every turn of the page, yet never quite to emerge from the peripheries of the theater or movie screen.

There have been 4 major attempts to will the world of Jay Gatsby to life on celluloid – the most competently rendered thus far, director, Jack Clayton’s expensively mounted super-production from 1974, costarring Robert Redford and Mia Farrow. Clayton gets the period right, perhaps, slavishly so, but also manages to capture at least a modicum of Gatsby’s colossally squandered ambitions to present himself as the veritable fixation of the ‘then’ popularized wealthy robber baron, in a vain prospect to woo back the great love of his life – Daisy, woefully unworthy of his sincerity or affections. It would be interesting to know what Fitzgerald might have thought of Redford and Farrow as his iconic couple. But only the first movie adaptation, a sumptuously-mounted silent by director, Herbert Brenon in 1926 (presumed lost forever) was seen by the author, accompanied by his wife, Zelda. Neither was impressed with the results. In fact, Fitzgerald was to describe the experience to their daughter as a ‘garish nightmare.’  But in 1949, the prospects for a definitive Gatsby seemed at least plausible when Paramount announced Alan Ladd in the title role.

Dashingly handsome, yet singularly able to convey the sort of withered and aloof dismay of Fitzgerald’s suffering hero, Alan Ladd was, arguably, the only male star of his generation suited for the part. And Ladd was at the apex of his star power in 1949, to be capped off with his monumental performance in 1951’s iconic western, Shane.  Ladd’s ascend to Hollywood royalty had been anything but assured. Actually, he had spent much of his youth aspiring to greatness, if never to appear as anything better than third-string filler in C-grade programmers of little repute, considered by some in the industry to be ‘too pretty’ and (at a diminutive 5’6”) by others, much too short to ever attain leading man status. For much of his career, Ladd would play his love scenes standing on a box or opposite actresses wading in a trench to offset this lack of height. To compensate, Ladd slavishly threw himself into regimented exercise. This toned up his musculature, adding girth, if not acme to his physical being. Then, just prior to the onset of WWII, Alan Ladd suddenly became a super star, finding his niche in such darkly purposed thrillers as 1942’s This Gun for Hire, and, The Glass Key. Seizing on the opportunities of their latest find, Paramount pumped Ladd through a spate of projects of varying quality. Unimpressed by some of these latter efforts, Ladd championed hard to do a remake of The Great Gatsby.

After the instigation of Hollywood’s self-governing code of censorship, the novel was considered un-filmable throughout much of the early 40’s. Nevertheless, Ladd persisted. By now, however, he had proven his mettle at the box office, but also a certain incalcitrant nature to resist the studio’s dictating his next projects. Put on suspension for refusing to appear opposite Betty Hutton in the 1947 western/drama, California, Ladd dug in his heels, only to be granted a modest increase in pay, while still denied story approval or the ability to do movies apart from his alma mater. The part of Jay Gatsby was a significant departure for Ladd. And if he had great faith in the project, Paramount, it seems, had absolutely none. To this end, the powers that be greatly hampered the picture’s budget and jettisoned virtually any references to Fitzgerald’s gay, twenty-something debauched decadence. The parties this Jay Gatsby gives are strictly for the well-behaved carriage trade, more aligned with the turn-of-the-century than that wild abandonment to immediately follow it. Worse, the studio meddled in casting – cribbing their talent from a decidedly B-roster of faces under contract; one, Howard DeSilva (herein cast as the impoverished rube, George Wilson), later to brilliantly crop up in Jack Clayton’s 1974 effort, in a cameo as mafia puppet master, Meyer Wolfsheim.  

The virtues of the ’49 picture can, regrettably, be summed up in two words: Alan Ladd. Without him, this version of Fitzgerald’s terrific tale tanks with the veracity of a mortally wounded and foundering ship at sea. The screenplay by Richard Maibaum and Cyril Hume is all over the place, dropping in and out of party scenes and flashbacks in a claptrap of half-baked bits of business only superficially inspired by Fitzgerald’s prose.  Even more disastrous, the picture is embarrassingly miscast. Betty Fields, in a role originally envisioned for Gene Tierney, is a brutally dull Daisy Buchanan. There is no spark of romance here – either between Daisy and Jay or Daisy and her husband, Tom (played with sullen ennui by Barry Sullivan). Ruth Hussey, as tennis pro, Jordan Baker, is a minx without the manner, while Macdonald Carey’s Nick Carraway is stultifying in his ‘above it all’ slum prudery. Even Shelley Winters, slinking about in too-too posh to be believed gowns by Edith Head, is off her mark as Tom’s mistress, Myrtle Wilson.

This Gatsby begins with a somber visit to the graveyard by bond salesman, Nick Carraway with Jordan Baker on his arm. We regress in flashback upon flashback to witness Jay Gatsby’s early years as a doughboy and later, cheap hood, eventually to rise in the underworld syndicate under the auspices of Myron Lupus (Ed Bagley). Buoyed by Lupus’ desire to exploit Gatsby’s youth and desperate thirst for the illusion of wealth, Jay Gatsby purchases a fashionable abode in East Egg, overlooking the bay and the formidable mansion of his lost love, Daisy and her husband, Tom. Gatsby plies Nick with favors, hoping to lure him into his plans to woo his cousin, Daisy from Tom. At first, Nick refuses to partake. But later, he agrees to invite Daisy to his tiny cottage, especially upon learning Daisy’s marriage to Tom is loveless, because Tom has a mistress, Myrtle, whom Daisy knows about but is powerless to defeat. Tom is cordial to Myrtle’s husband, gas station attendant, George. The brittleness in their marriage and Daisy’s inability to give up the luxuries the uber-rich Tom has provided her in life eventually frustrate Gatsby. He confronts the couple in Nick and Jordan’s presence, getting Daisy to admit she does not love her husband. Tom, however, is clever at convincing her otherwise. After Tom inadvertently runs down Myrtle in Gatsby’s car, he frames Gatsby for the murder, setting about George’s misinformed revenge killing as Gatsby swims in his pool. We regress from this extended flashback into the present. Nick and Jordan lay a wreath at Gatsby’s grave and walk away together.

This version of The Great Gatsby was not a success. Mercifully, Fitzgerald had not lived to see his novel bastardized for the movies a second time. Fitzgerald, who struggled with a life-long addiction to alcohol, achieved sobriety in 1939, a full year before his death - too late to turn back the ravages of time. He suffered a fatal heart attack due to occlusive coronary arteriosclerosis in 1940 – a literary genius, dead at age 44. As for Alan Ladd…he was bitterly disappointed by Paramount’s lack of faith in the movie he hoped would allow him to break free from the studio’s carefully constructed screen persona. Paramount’s curious promotion of this ‘Gatsby’ as a trench-coat-wearing man of mystery bode more with Ladd’s screen presence from his earlier forays into dark and stylish thrillers than with Fitzgerald’s sad, yet enterprising and tragic figure of lost opportunities in youth. Paramount quickly buried the ’49 Gatsby shortly afterward. Apart from the rarest late-night TV screenings, it rarely appeared in retrospectives devoted to Ladd’s career. Like virtually all of Paramount’s pre-war catalog, in the mid-1950’s, The Great Gatsby was sold to MCA, later to fall under the umbrella of Universal Pictures.

So, it begs the question how Universal, a studio not particularly well-regarded for film preservation outside a select few efforts to suggest otherwise, could allow such obscenely careworn elements to be slapped to Blu-ray, grotesquely misrepresenting their efforts as deriving from a new 2022 4K scan off an original camera negative. Be forewarned: nothing even close to an original camera negative has been employed in these mastering efforts, dumped to disc via third-party Aussie/indie label, ViaVision. What is here is a travesty – period. The image exhibits either high or low contrast, a distinct sign a print master, several generations removed from an original camera negative is being used. Image quality – if one can refer to ‘quality’ at all – is woefully bland and undernourished. Fine details are completely sacrificed during scenes shot under low lighting conditions. The image is harshly contrasted, clumpy, yet lacking in any sort of tangible film grain. Worst of all, nothing has been done to clean-up the ravages of time. The entire picture is perforated with glaring age-related artifacts – tears and scratches, some so large they completely distract from the storytelling.

The 2.0 DTS audio fares marginally better, with minimal hiss and pop. ViaVision has padded this disc with some truly fascinating extras – a comprehensive audio commentary from scholar, Jason Ney, and several featurettes, totaling well over 2-hours, to include a vintage documentary on Alan Ladd, with contributions from family, friends and colleagues who knew him best, also, reflection pieces by Professor Sarah Churchwell, critic/writer, Christina Newland, and an on-stage interview between Ladd’s son, David and critic/author, Alan K. Rode. All these extras would have distinct meaning if the movie and the man they are celebrating had been honored with a new, remastered edition of the actual movie. Alas, what is here is so badly bungled, even with these formidable extras, I cannot recommend The Great Gatsby to anyone. Hands down – this is one of the worst looking discs ever released in hi-def. Don’t waste your time or money here, folks. Pass, and be VERY glad that you did!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2

VIDEO/AUDIO

0

EXTRAS

5