Director Baz Luhrman narrates the story of "The Great Gatsby" the way my mother would: linearly, as a third-person narrator, and always trying to wow you with depictions. "So he's driving this big car, yeah? REALLY big and expensive car, yeah? And he's driving it REALLY fast, yeah?" until I cave in and go like: "Wow, now I get it, really big car, huh? I'm impressed, please proceed with the plot." Another thing they have in common: They never fecking listen to me, but when THEY tell a story, they suddenly have all the time in the world. In the case of The Great Gatsby, almost two and a half hours.

Oh, and my mom and Baz Luhrman also share this: plausibility, logic, positivism -- they all mean sheet when they are telling THEIR stories. "Hey mom, so he's this mousy bank clerk and cousin twice removed of this famously beautiful debutante and her millionaire sports champion husband, how come he's always hanging out with them?" -- "Shut up when we're talking, son!"

And the music didn't really work, either. Jay-Z kinda tries to cross over from contemporary hip-hop to 1920ies Jazz and Swing, cute idea, but it turns out as muzak.

Consequently, I found 2h20m of this movie hard to sit through. Kind of like when I have to listen to my mom's old chestnuts.