‘The Great Gatsby’: An All-Singing, All-Dancing Take on the Novel
A review of ‘The Great Gatsby’, at Broadway Theater, 2024.
The Great Gatsby is a story about America. On the face of it, it seems like something else: a thwarted love story between a man — the eponymous Jay Gatsby—and a woman called Daisy Buchanan. But that is only the frame and context for a tale about the corruption of the American dream, the decay of social and moral values, the emptiness of greed and the pursuit of pleasure. Yes, there are parties; but The Great Gatsby on the whole does not exactly lend itself well to singing and dancing. It is not a happy tale. And it is too reflective. Jason Howland and Nathan Tysen had a crack at making it into a musical anyway.
I would have liked to have started this subsequent paragraph by saying that despite all of this, the musical take on The Great Gatsby is a howling success. But it isn’t. And, watching it on Broadway last Thursday during a trip to New York, it was clear to me that I was not the only one who was bored. There was my friend, leaning over to me 15 minutes in to say, ‘Well, this is average’. More damning still was that a couple came in 10 minutes late, squinting through the gloom and whispering apologies to those around them, only not to bother returning after the interval. As for me, I am quite happy to sit through anything, no matter how awful; but I do insist on doing it with a drink in my hand. Alas, reader, it turns out you have to wait until the interval to get a drink at some American theatres. I do hope that isn’t a nationwide thing. How on earth do you cope?
It was clear to me that I was not the only one who was bored.
I have told you already about some of the themes that run through The Great Gatsby. If you have never read it, the actual narrative is this: Nick Carraway (Noah J. Ricketts), a young man who served in the Great War, turns up in New York to learn the bond business*. He is struck by the wealth and excess on display, particularly that of mysterious neighbour, Jay Gatsby (Jeremy Jordan). Nick meets his cousin Daisy (Eva Noblezada) and her husband, an old-money school acquaintance Tom Buchanan (John Zdrojeski). He also meets Daisy’s friend, a golfer called Jordan Baker (Samantha Pauly). Daisy hints that her marriage to Tom is unhappy. Gatsby invites Nick to one of his lavish dos; Jordan goes with him; Gatsby tells Nick he built his fortune to try to win back Daisy. He asks for Nick’s help in getting them back together.
He is struck by the wealth and excess on display, particularly that of mysterious neighboru, Jay Gatsby.
When not rendered with the sensitivity, intelligence and technical skill of someone like Scott Fitzgerald, such a story becomes (ironically, given what it attacks) wholly superficial. But even that does not quite capture the missteps taken by Howland and Nathan Tysen, who seem to have decided, rather puzzlingly, to lead with the comedy and outfits and ‘fun’ of Gatsby, forgetting that those parts of the story chiefly exist to illustrate the tragic emptiness of its characters’ lives. There are solid big dance numbers, and some of the costumes (by Linda Cho) are lovely, and there is a part with some tap that looks like it was tough to pull off; but the music is bland Broadway stuff: upbeat and thoroughly unmemorable. There wasn’t a single banger. Even if you loathe Les Misérables, in contrast, you have to admit that it has some good songs.
There is more that I could say, but I do not like to rude, and at any rate by now you catch my drift. This is a musical that seems to misunderstand its own subject matter or—if I were to be kinder—misunderstands what it is about its subject matter that lasts. Desecration, corruption, commercialisation, pretentiousness, fakery, greed, idealisation and vanity … These are enduring human problems—problems we discuss today—and Fitzgerald’s book has them all, packed into a tight story that succeeds nonetheless in being lyrically and reflectively told. That is its power. The Great Gatsby on stage, in contrast, has no power, no emotional force, no capacity to shock or move or elicit anything, really, but a sigh. It is, in a word, forgettable.
*Thank you Janice Harayda for this correction.
