A party piece
June 1, 2009In honour of the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in some time – Gatz, the amazing reading / performance of The Great Gatsby, which I saw at the Sydney Opera House last night – I thought I’d revisit that beloved book here.
The show is hard to describe, but anything that keeps one riveted for seven hours, with only two 15-minute and one 1-hour break, is a feat of wonder. It’s a stunning reading of the entire book by one spectacularly talented chap, Scott Shepherd as Nick Carraway, along with a supporting cast of 12 including the elusively beautiful Jim Fletcher as Gatsby (pictured). And it’s also got another wordless story running along beneath it, of the futile melancholy of office life – but that is another story. The originality and wit of the direction makes this an inventive, gloriously playful, surprising and – when it should be – desperately sad production.
There will be many who can describe Gatz better than I, so check out the reviews, like this one here. All I can say is a huge thank you to my friend Bec for taking me. It was a wonder. And one of the best things was its reminding me how beautiful is the writing in The Great Gatsby, so here is some for you. Surely no party since this was written has ever lived up to one of Gatsby’s wondrous soirees.
There was music from my neighbour’s house through the summer nights. In the blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his two motor-boats slit the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On weekends his Rolls Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains. And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra gardener, toiled all day with mops and scrubbing-brushes and hammers and garden shears, repairing the ravages of the night before.
Every Friday five crates of oranges and lemons arrived from a fruiterer in New York – every Monday these same oranges and lemons left his back door in a pyramid of pulpless halves. There was a machine in the kitchen which could extract the juice of two hundred oranges in half an hour if a little button was pressed two hundred times by a butler’s thumb.
At least once a fortnight a corps of caterers came down with several hundred feet of canvas and enough coloured lights to make a Christmas tree of Gatsby’s enormous garden. On buffet tables, garnished with glistening hors-d’oevre, spiced baked hams crowded against salads of harlequin designs and pastry pigs and turkeys bewitched to a dark gold. In the main hall a bar with a real brass rail was set up, and stocked with gins and liquors and with cordials so long forgotten that most of his female guests were too young to know one from another.
And when we came out, the sails of the Opera House were all lit up like a strange blue underwater garden. Seemed so apt, somehow, and made our night.
How to shuck an oyster 
How much do you wish you could stroll across the lawn to one of these shin-digs..? Sigh.
How interesting. One of the writers in my panel discussion at the Emerging Writers’ Festival over the weekend is a theatre practitioner and he hated the show. It’s an amazing idea.
Really!?? I loved it so much I am still dreaming about it. Maybe it’s because he’s a theatre person – I hate so much theatre that I hardly ever go. I always feel horribly embarrassed for whoever’s on stage … but this was, to my mind, so original and fresh, at the same time as being an old favourite. You know, at least I knew the SCRIPT would be decent! But if you hated it, those seven long hours would be REALLY long … did he leave? Surely he could not stay for the whole thing?
Hmm, interesting. I’m often disappointed in theatre too – which makes life challenging (for others too!) seeing I’m a theatre critic! It’s such a difficult medium to get right – there are so many elements to it, and what some people adore, others will hate.
I think he did stay to the end, so maybe he didn’t hate it that much. I saw a four hour production of Cyrano de Bergerac in Perth a while ago and found it hard in some places!
It’s great you had such a good experience, I’m happy for you! 🙂