F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby has been an eternal source of fascination ever since it was published in 1925. It has been evoked numerous times on stage and screen. The latest incarnation is the musical, currently at the Paper Mill Playhouse, which is rumored to be Broadway-bound. It certainly has the look of a big Broadway-caliber production with magnificent sets, effects, costumes, choreography, and a bravura cast of major Broadway talents.
But as impressive as the production looks and sounds, it falls short of successfully translating Fitzgerald’s deeply dark themes concerning America’s obsession with wealth and class onto the stage. With its downbeat message of misplaced dreams and moral corruption, the novel seems to defy adaptation. This is a complex tale with no clear path to a cathartic or redemptive ending, and I have yet to see a winning version of Fitzgerald’s classic—aside from off-Broadway’s Elevator Repair Service production of Gatz, which spent six-plus hours featuring actors reading the entire novel cover to cover. The writing is so richly nuanced, it seems impossible to do it justice any other way.
The Paper Mill is putting on a game effort, principally with lead performers Jeremy Jordan and Eva Noblezada, who are simply sensational as Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan. The two characters depict the hollow extravagances of the 1920s at the center of the novel and they are hopelessly flawed. Gatsby is a failed dreamer. The beautiful Daisy, as written, is superficial and materialistic.
As the story unfolds, the year is 1922. Gatsby has amassed a fortune in the hopes of winning over Daisy, with whom he had fallen in love five years earlier when he was a lowly army officer. World War I separated them and when it was over, Gatsby discovered Daisy has married and moved on.
The book is narrated by Daisy’s earnest cousin Nick Carraway, a young man who happens to move next door to Gatsby’s opulent Long Island mansion where wild parties are a nightly constant. Gatsby befriends Nick in an effort to reconnect with Daisy, who lives lavishly with her philandering husband, Tom Buchanan, and their young daughter right across the Sound. Gatsby deliberately placed his house in their direct line of view where he constantly sees a green light emitting from their dock. It’s a symbolic device representing the American Dream, which becomes unattainable even for him.
The musical’s book, written by Kait Kerrigan, is problematic. She does away with Nick’s narration and focuses on the Gatsby-Daisy love story. By dispensing with Nick’s narration, the story loses a valuable perspective—essentially the moral conscience that Fitzgerald amplified in the book. Without that, it’s a pretty straightforward love story about careless people who are hard to care about.
Kerrigan attempts to address that by depicting Daisy in a more sympathetically vulnerable light so we’re more invested in their relationship. By show’s end, Daisy does an about-face, reverting to the shallow character described by Nick in the book as “careless,” someone who “smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into [her] money.” Those final climactic scenes are muddled and unfortunately leave us cold.
The score, composed by Jason Howland with lyricist Nathan Tysen, is engagingly tuneful, featuring an eclectic mix of rousing jazz-age numbers and soulful ballads.
Noblezada, fresh from Hadestown and Miss Saigon, is three-for-three now with her powerful voice on that tiny frame. She’s proven herself a genuine star. Her 11 o’clock number—singing “The best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool” (a line taken right out of the book)—offers one of the few emotionally engaging moments in the show.
Another is Jordan’s solo “Past Is Catching Up to Me.” Embodying the enigmatic Gatsby, Jordan plays the charismatic recluse to perfection. His act one finale with Noblezada, “My Green Light,” is beautifully rendered.
Every one of the leads is a standout. As Nick, Noah J. Ricketts is terrific; and paired with the excellent Samantha Pauly as the cynical, marriage-averse golf pro Jordan Baker, their courtship almost steals the show.
Representing the have-nots, Paul Whitty and Sara Chase as the tragic George and Myrtle Wilson are equally strong.
And John Zdrojeski, as the entitled chauvinistic brute Tom Buchanan, is a very convincing villain.
Staged efficiently by Marc Bruni, the two-and-a-half-hour production is fairly tight though it could benefit from some surgical cutting.
The tremendous sets and projections designed by Paul Tate dePoo III are truly impressive, along with Linda Cho’s costumes. An inspired touch is a dance number performed by the ensemble in open trench coats that whirl in cadence. Dominique Kelley’s choreography deserves kudos all around for its originality, merging the 1920s dances with the current century’s stylized movements.
It’s easy to see the appeal of adapting Gatsby onto the stage, especially now as we emerge from a pandemic echoing the Spanish influenza that plagued Fitzgerald’s era. And now get ready for a lot more productions, as the book has just entered the public domain (which means it can forever be produced without the need to pay royalties). There is, in fact, another Gatsby musical bound for Broadway helmed by Hadestown director Rachel Chavkin. The jury’s still out on that one. As for the Paper Mill production, I certainly wouldn’t count it out. Given all the talent involved, there is great promise—though I wouldn’t give it a green light just yet.
The Great Gatsby opened Oct. 22, 2023, at Paper Mill Playhouse and runs through Nov. 12. Tickets and information: papermill.org
