Edgerton's fellow Aussie
Jason Clarke ("Zero Dark Thirty") is thrown away in a thankless supporting part as the cuckolded auto
mechanic husband of Buchanan's ditzy mistress (Isla Fisher). And Bollywood great Amitabh Bachchan memorably cameos as Meyer Wolfsheim.
Finally, this is the kind of film where you hum the sets,
as they say in Hollywood. It's outrageously designed by Luhrmann's wife, brilliant production designer Catherine
Martin, who delivers the Gatsby manse's shining turrets, gleaming parquet floors, elaborate chandeliers and a mighty gold Wurlitzer organ, but should also earn an Oscar nomination for her gorgeous over-the-top costumes, including the Daisy Buchanan show-topper, a chandelier party dress designed by Miuccia Prada.
The film builds from an early small-scale Bacchanalia in a gaudy pink New York pied-a-terre to the giant-scale choreographed chaos of the Gatsby party centerpiece, the tour-de-force that makes the movie a must-see. "Large parties are so intimate," croons Carraway's lovely golfer pal Jordan Baker (newcomer Elizabeth Debicki).
At the party they join scads of dazzling fashionistas in intricate hats, indulge in flowing champagne and martinis, watch dancers high-kicking with giant feather fans, zebra floats in the pool, orchestra musicians in red fezes, floating giant butterflies, streaming confetti, and exploding fireworks-- all synced to George Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue."
But when Luhrmann returns for another round of parties, it's a letdown. Finally this overproduced slimmest of narratives becomes repetitive, at two hours and 23 minutes, as we revisit the sumptuous set pieces, Gatsby looking longingly across the water toward Daisy's glowing green dock, and hear yet another iteration of the morphing Gatsby backstory until, finally, we reach Fitzgerald's last words, from the novel: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”