The best thing that could be said about Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby is that it's the sort of film that F. Scott Fitzgerald's characters would find terribly profound and moving, even though it's possible that no one else would. Using the same hyper-real and kinetic style that he employed to dizzying/disorientating effect in Moulin Rouge!, Luhrmann re-creates the Long Island playground of West Egg, home to the rich, beautiful and carefree denizens of an America drunk on success and illicit booze. It's a world of empty pleasures and idle existences, populated by people whose greatest concern is where their next good time is going to come from.