It is the height of wrong-headedness to provide a hip-hop score to a story that takes place in the jazz age, with the imposed music in opposition to what is happening on screen. In the Wall Street Journal, in a piece by Will Friedwald about music cited in the writing of F. Scott Fitzgerald, he observes how Fitzgerald made very specific references to jazz. This renders the use of hip-hop by Luhrmann all the more absurd. But let’s face it—this film version is more about Luhrmann than Fitzgerald.

And what’s with the 3-D? Apart from enabling higher admission charges at the box office, 3-D makes no artistic sense in terms of added effects. There are no tigers roaring at us—just actors, fast cars and bacchanal scenes that we could take in quite normally without having to endure the uncomfortable ritual of special glasses.

The performances, when freed from Luhrmann’s warped vision, can be quite effective. Leonardo DiCaprio is fine delineating the mystique of Gatsby and his love for Daisy, whose allure is captured by the attractive Carey Mulligan. Tobey Maguire does well as Nick Carraway, carrying the film’s perspective via his memories, as written in the screenplay adaptation credited to Craig Pearce. Joel Edgerton makes a strong possessive and unpleasant Tom Buchanan, resisting Gatsby’s efforts to take Daisy away from him.

There is not much sense in having Nick reflect during treatment at a mental institution, where he manages to write what in effect is Fitzgerald’s novel. But why expect sense in a film that will substitute hip-hop for the jazz of the period? Visually there are some striking scenes, and I have encountered women, subjected to the promotional hype, who say they are eager to see the clothes worn in the film. I suppose that’s as good a reason as any to go.