Understanding Existentialism Through a Flipped Learning Experience

This blog is written as part of a flipped learning activity on Existentialism given by Prof. Dr. Dilip Barad. In this activity, we watched videos shared on the teacher’s blog and reflected on important ideas of existentialist philosophy. Here is the link to the professor's Blog for background reading: Click here 

Understanding Existentialism Through a Flipped Learning Experience

Here is Infographic on Authenticity in the Absurd:

Video 1: What is Existentialism? :

I interpret existentialism as a philosophy that speaks honestly about the confusion and pressure we experience while growing up. What struck me most is that existentialism does not promise comfort or ready answers. Instead, it accepts uncertainty as a natural part of life and asks us to face it courageously.

I understand existentialism as saying that life does not give us meaning we have to create it ourselves. This idea feels both frightening and empowering. Frightening because there is no fixed path to follow, and empowering because it means my choices matter. My identity is not something given to me by society, religion, or tradition alone, but something I shape through my actions.

Camus’s idea of the absurd feels especially relevant to student life. We often work hard, dream big, and search for purpose, yet life does not always respond the way we expect. Instead of giving up or escaping reality, existentialism encourages us to continue living consciously, even when things feel meaningless. This attitude feels strong and honest rather than hopeless.

For me, existentialism feels less like a philosophy from textbooks and more like a guide for inner reflection. It helps me understand feelings like anxiety, loneliness, and self-doubt not as weaknesses but as signs of awareness. As a student who enjoys literature and self-thinking, existentialism becomes a way to understand my inner struggles and still move forward with responsibility and freedom. 

Video 2: The Myth of Sisyphus: The Absurd Reasoning (Feeling of the Absurd)

I understand Camus’s idea of the absurd as a way of looking at life honestly without running away from its discomfort. What affected me most is his claim that understanding meaninglessness does not mean life should end. Instead, it means life should be lived with awareness. This idea feels strong because it refuses both false hope and hopelessness.

I interpret the absurd as something that appears when my expectations meet reality. Like many students, I search for purpose, success, and clarity, but the world does not always respond fairly or logically. Camus helps me understand that this gap between what I hope for and what the world offers is not a personal failure it is part of existence itself.

What I find meaningful is that Camus does not blame either humans or the world. The absurd exists only because we think, question, and hope. This makes confusion feel valid rather than shameful. Instead of demanding answers, Camus encourages us to stay conscious, to keep living, and to resist giving up, even when certainty is absent.

For me, the idea of the absurd turns despair into clarity. It teaches that life does not need guaranteed meaning to be lived sincerely. As a reflective student interested in literature and inner thought, I feel that Camus gives permission to live with questions, to accept uncertainty, and still choose life with dignity and awareness. In this way, the absurd becomes not a reason to escape life, but a reason to live it honestly. 

Video 3: The Myth of Sisyphus The Notion of Philosophical Suicide:

I understand philosophical suicide as the moment when a person stops questioning because the truth feels too uncomfortable. It is not about ending life, but about ending honest thinking. When uncertainty becomes difficult to bear, there is a temptation to choose comforting beliefs simply to escape anxiety. Camus helps me recognize this tendency clearly.

I agree with Camus that jumping into faith or absolute meaning after recognizing the absurd feels like avoiding the problem rather than facing it. It may bring emotional comfort, but it closes inquiry. What I find powerful is Camus’s insistence that living without illusion does not mean living without strength. Staying with uncertainty requires more courage than choosing easy answers.

For me, this idea connects strongly with student life. We often look for fixed meanings, guarantees, or authorities to tell us who we are and what our life should mean. Camus challenges this habit. He suggests that real honesty lies in continuing to think, question, and live even when no final answers are available.

I interpret Camus’s refusal of philosophical suicide as an act of resistance. To live without hope, without false belief, and without escape is not despair it is clarity. Remaining in that fragile space before the leap, where nothing is certain, feels difficult but truthful. Through this lens, meaning is not something we escape to; it is something we live through awareness, resistance, and responsibility.

Video 4: Dadaism, Nihilism and Existentialism

I understand Dadaism and existentialism as movements that begin with refusal a refusal to accept inherited meanings without questioning them. What attracts me to both is that they do not pretend the world is stable, fair, or logical. Instead, they respond honestly to historical violence and human suffering.

I do not see Dadaism as meaningless chaos. Rather, I see it as a reaction to a broken world. When old values led to war and destruction, Dadaism chose to tear those values apart instead of respecting them. This feels emotionally honest to me. Before rebuilding meaning, something false must first be dismantled.

I also find the relationship between Dadaism and existentialism psychologically convincing. Dadaism clears space by destroying structures; existentialism enters afterward and asks what an individual should do once those structures collapse. First comes doubt and negation, then comes freedom and responsibility. This sequence reflects how people often experience crisis in real life.

Both movements also share a deep engagement with the absurd. They do not fear absurdity but accept it as part of modern existence. As a student interested in literature and philosophy, I find this comforting not because it gives answers, but because it removes false certainty. In the space between destruction and creation, I find a way of thinking that allows honesty, freedom, and faithfulness to one’s own experience rather than borrowed truths.

Video 5: Existentialism - a gloomy philosophy 

I do not experience existentialism as a gloomy philosophy but as a realistic one. Life already contains uncertainty, fear, and confusion, and existentialism does not hide these realities. What I find meaningful is that it treats these emotions as starting points rather than final conclusions.

I feel especially connected to Nietzsche’s idea of “becoming who you are.” This idea suggests that identity is not fixed or waiting to be discovered but is formed through choices, failures, and reflection. I like this because it removes the pressure of having to “know myself” completely. Instead, it allows growth to be slow, uncertain, and imperfect.

For me, existentialism emphasizes responsibility without being moralistic. It does not tell me what to believe or how to live, but it reminds me that my choices matter. This makes life feel serious, but also meaningful. Rather than offering comfort, existentialism offers honesty. It encourages me to face fear, contradiction, and freedom directly and still choose to live authentically.

In this way, existentialism feels less like a dark philosophy and more like a practice of becomingone that accepts uncertainty while insisting on responsibility, self-examination, and personal truth.

Video 6: Existentialism and Nihilism: Is it one and the same?

I understand the difference between nihilism and existentialism as the difference between giving up and choosing to respond. Nihilism accepts that nothing matters and stops there. Existentialism begins at the same realization but refuses to remain passive.

What stands out to me is that existential thinkers do not deny meaninglessness; they face it directly. Kierkegaard responds by restoring individuality, Nietzsche by creating new values, and Camus by insisting on rebellion. In contrast, Cioran’s acceptance of futility feels motionless. It recognizes the problem but refuses to act, and this passivity feels emotionally heavy rather than honest.

I find Camus’s idea of rebellion especially convincing. To live without guarantees, without final meaning, and still choose to act feels courageous. It suggests that meaning does not need cosmic approval to matter. Like Dadaism, which destroys false values to make space for freedom, existentialism confronts nihilism by insisting on responsibility rather than resignation.

For me, existentialism feels like an ethical response to emptiness. It does not promise hope, but it refuses despair. It asks the individual not to escape, not to surrender, but to remain engaged with life. This active stance makes existentialism feel alive and demanding, while nihilism feels static and withdrawn. In that difference, I find existentialism not as denial of meaninglessness, but as resistance against letting it have the final word.

Video 7: Let us introduce Existentialism again!

I connect most deeply with existentialism through Fyodor Dostoevsky’s novels, because they show existential ideas through lived psychological suffering rather than theory. In Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov believes he can define his own moral rules, but his inner collapse reveals that freedom without responsibility leads to anguish. His suffering comes not only from society, but from within himself.

This helps me understand Sartre’s idea that existence precedes essence. Raskolnikov tries to invent an identity through theory, but meaning cannot survive without responsibility. Similarly, in Notes from Underground, the narrator rejects logic, progress, and rational systems simply to prove that he is free even when it hurts him. This shows that human beings are not predictable machines but beings who choose, sometimes irrationally.

What I find powerful is that Dostoevsky does not comfort the reader. He shows the cost of freedom, the loneliness of self-awareness, and the pain of choosing oneself against society. Through his characters, existentialism becomes not just something to understand, but something to endure.

Video 8: Explain like I'm Five: Existentialism and Nietzsche:

I really like this video because it explains Nietzsche in a way that feels playful but serious. Using a Superman figure makes the idea of value-creation understandable without removing its danger. It shows that morality is not just obedience, but something that requires thinking and responsibility.

What interests me most is the children’s reaction. Their discomfort shows that existential freedom is not just personal it affects others. This helps me understand why existentialism can feel threatening. Freedom does not happen in isolation; it creates tension in social life.

For me, this also explains why existentialism speaks so strongly to young people. Adolescence is a time of questioning authority and inherited rules. Nietzsche’s idea of “becoming who you are” reflects this stage of life, where freedom feels exciting but also frightening. The video makes existentialism feel real, not abstract.

Video 9: Why I like Existentialism? Eric Dodson 

  

I relate strongly to this video because it presents existentialism as compassionate without being comforting. It does not judge weakness or confusion, but it does not excuse passivity either. It accepts human limitations while still demanding responsibility.

Like Nietzsche’s idea of “becoming who you are,” this view places meaning in the hands of the individual. For me, this honesty makes existentialism feel empowering rather than depressing. It meets people where they are and asks them to live consciously.

Video 10: Let us sum up: From Essentialism to Existentialism

I understand existentialism not as a denial of meaning, but as a demand for responsibility. It does not say life is meaningless; it says meaning is not given freely. We must create it through our choices.

What stays with me is the idea that freedom is unavoidable. Even refusing to choose is a choice. Existentialism feels difficult, but honest. It teaches me that living authentically means accepting uncertainty, taking responsibility, and remaining engaged with life despite the absence of guarantees.

A Personal Reflection on Video 9: Why I Like Existentialism

Video 9 resonated with me because it explains existentialism through real human life rather than abstract philosophy. The speaker shows that existentialism begins from everyday experiences such as confusion about the future, fear of failure, loneliness, loss, and moments when life feels uncertain or unfair. These situations are common in human life, which makes the philosophy feel natural and believable.

Logically, existentialism starts with the fact that life does not come with fixed instructions. For example, when we face academic pressure, career confusion, or personal disappointment, no external rule can fully tell us what to do. The video explains that instead of escaping these situations or blaming fate, existentialism asks us to face them honestly and take responsibility for our choices. This connection between freedom and responsibility makes the philosophy practical.

The video’s idea of radical honesty is also connected to real life. People often hide pain behind social expectations or pretend everything is fine. Existentialism, however, encourages us to admit anxiety, suffering, and fear without shame. For instance, after failure or loss, feeling confused or hopeless is not weakness but part of being human. Accepting this truth allows personal growth rather than denial.

Another important idea in the video is that suffering can become meaningful. In life, experiences like rejection, heartbreak, or failure often force us to reflect on who we are and what truly matters. The video suggests that such moments, though painful, can teach responsibility, empathy, and self-awareness. Meaning is not found in comfort, but formed through how we respond to difficult situations.

Finally, the video presents existentialism as a life-affirming rebellion. This rebellion appears when individuals question social norms, refuse to live mechanically, and choose authenticity over convenience. Simple acts like choosing a meaningful career over a socially approved one, standing by personal values, or living consciously in the present moment reflect this existential attitude. Through these everyday events, existentialism becomes a philosophy that encourages courage, honesty, and full participation in life.

My Learning Outcomes from the Existentialism Activity:

• This activity helped me understand existentialism in a better way than before.

• I learned that feelings like anxiety, fear, and confusion are normal in life, especially when we try to find meaning.

• The videos clearly explained the difference between existentialism and nihilism. Nihilism gives up on meaning, but existentialism asks us to create our own meaning.

• I understood that human beings are free to choose, and every choice comes with responsibility.

• I learned the idea of bad faith, which means avoiding responsibility by blaming society, fate, or rules.

• This activity helped me connect philosophy with real-life experiences like making decisions, facing problems, and understanding myself.

• Overall, this activity taught me that existentialism is not about escaping life, but about accepting reality and still choosing to live with purpose.   

References :

Barad, Dilip. “Existentialism: Video Resources.” Dilip Barad | Teacher Blog, 19 Sept. 2016, blog.dilipbarad.com/2016/09/existentialism-video-resources.html.

The Waste Land and the Indian Knowledge Systems

This blog post is written as part of the Thinking Activity assigned by Dr. Dilip Barad Sir, Department of English, M.K. Bhavnagar University (MKBU). The purpose of this post is to study T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land from the perspective of Indian Knowledge Systems. By drawing on at least two scholarly articles, the post examines how Indian philosophical traditions, particularly Upanishadic and Buddhist ideas, help in understanding the spiritual concerns and symbolic structure of the poem. Here is the link to the Syllabus for background reading: Click here.

The Waste Land and the Indian Knowledge Systems

Here is video : 

Introduction :

At first, T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land looks like a world in pieces broken voices, empty streets, and a society that has lost its way. But if we read it through Indian Knowledge Systems, we see something different. The poem’s fragments are not just chaos; they carry ancient wisdom from the Upanishads and Buddhist teachings, showing a way to think about life and meaning.

The two articles I studied show that Indian philosophy is not just decoration in Eliot’s poem. It works as a moral guide, teaching lessons about ethics, self-control, and spiritual growth. With this view, the wasteland is not only a place of despair it is also a place to reflect, learn, and find hope.

Article 1 

REFLECTION OF HINDU AND BUDDHIST PHILOSOPHY IN T.S ELIOT'S 'WASTE LAND.' 

The first article, “Reflection of Hindu and Buddhist Philosophy in T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land” by Paramveer Chahal (2023), shows how Eliot’s poem reflects spiritual and moral problems in modern society. The author says that Eliot saw the Western world after World War I as full of desire but empty of meaning. People are chasing pleasure and material things, but their hearts and minds are still hungry. The poem’s “wasteland” is not just a place it is a symbol of spiritual and ethical emptiness.

Chahal argues that Indian philosophy helps explain this emptiness. Hindu ideas of maya (illusion) show how people are trapped by false appearances. Buddhist ideas of tanha (desire) explain how craving and attachment cause suffering. In the poem, Eliot’s characters seem stuck in both: they are controlled by desire, lack compassion, and cannot control themselves.

The article also compares the poem to the Buddhist concept of samsara, the cycle of suffering:

• repeating actions without learning,

• seeking pleasure but never feeling satisfied,

• gaining knowledge but not true understanding.

In this sense, Eliot’s poem is like a warning: suffering happens because humans have lost moral and spiritual guidance. Indian Knowledge Systems do not promise easy happiness, but they give clarity and direction showing that self-discipline, generosity, and ethical living are necessary to avoid spiritual collapse.

So, according to Chahal, The Waste Land is not just about a broken world outside, but also about the inner failure of humans. It warns that if people do not change their hearts and minds, society itself can fall apart.

Article 2 

Upanishadic Perceptions in T. S. Eliot's Poetry and Drama

The second article, “Upanishadic Perceptions in T. S. Eliot’s Poetry and Drama” by P. S. Sri (2008), can be seen as offering the solution or prescription to the problems described in Eliot’s poem. While the first article shows the spiritual and ethical “illness” in modern society, Sri explains how Upanishadic philosophy provides guidance and hope.

According to Sri, the final section of The Waste Land, “What the Thunder Said,” is based on three key Upanishadic commands:

• Datta – Give

• Dayadhvam – Be compassionate

• Damyata – Control yourself

These are not just abstract spiritual ideas. In the poem, they are urgent ethical instructions for a world facing moral collapse.

• Datta (Give) teaches generosity and challenges selfishness and material obsession.

• Dayadhvam (Be compassionate) encourages empathy and fights emotional isolation and cruelty.

• Damyata (Control) promotes self-discipline and warns against uncontrolled desire and indulgence.

From the perspective of Indian Knowledge Systems, these commands are practical tools for spiritual growth, not just poetic symbols. Sri shows that Eliot structures the poem so that ethical action leads to spiritual peace, making moral discipline central to the poem’s meaning.

The poem ends with the mantra “Shantih shantih shantih”, which represents peace and alignment not just silence. In Upanishadic thought, true peace comes when the self, society, and universe are in harmony, and it is achieved through ethical and spiritual effort.

In simple terms, according to Sri, Eliot’s poem shows that spiritual peace and ethical living are connected: without practicing generosity, compassion, and self-control, peace cannot be truly realized.

Reading the Two Articles Together

Indian Knowledge Systems as Ethical Resistance

When we look at both articles together, we see a deep and interesting idea: Indian Knowledge Systems (IKS) act as a moral and ethical guide in The Waste Land.

In Eliot’s poem, Western modernity is shown as:

• Fragmented – society is broken into disconnected parts.

• Restless – people are always seeking something but never satisfied.

• Obsessed with control but lacking self-control – humans want to dominate the world but fail to control their own desires.

Indian philosophy, through Hindu, Buddhist, and Upanishadic ideas, comes in as a counterbalance. It does not replace Western culture, but it shows where it has failed. Eliot uses Eastern thought as a mirror, reflecting the ethical and spiritual gaps in modern society. The teachings of maya (illusion), tanha (desire), and the thunder commands (Datta, Dayadhvam, Damyata) highlight how far humanity has drifted from ethical and spiritual balance.

In this light, the “wasteland” is not just a place of despair. It becomes a spiritual classroom, where human suffering teaches lessons, and human failure creates the possibility for learning and growth. The poem shows that true regeneration comes not from luck or belief, but through ethical action, discipline, compassion, and self-control.

The final mantra, “Shantih shantih shantih,” represents more than peace; it is a symbol of what the world lacks. Eliot does not pretend that peace has arrived. Instead, he highlights the gap between human failure and spiritual possibility. By showing this, the poem becomes a cross-cultural reflection on modern life a meditation on how societies break, but also on how they might rise again if humans reconnect with ethical and spiritual principles.

Conclusion :

Through the lens of Indian Knowledge Systems, T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land is more than a poem of chaos and despair. It is a poetic lesson in ethics and spirituality. Hindu, Buddhist, and Upanishadic ideas reveal the moral and spiritual emptiness of modern life, while also offering guidance: self-discipline, compassion, generosity, and inner control.

The poem’s fragmented world, restless characters, and final mantra, “Shantih shantih shantih,”, show both what humanity has lost and what it could regain through ethical living. By bringing Eastern philosophy into a Western modernist text, Eliot creates a cross-cultural meditation showing how civilizations can fall, but also how they might rise again if humans reconnect with ethical and spiritual principles. In short, The Waste Land is not just a poem about ruin it is a poem of awakening, reflection, and hope, teaching us that even in a broken world, spiritual insight and moral guidance remain possible. 

Here is the Presentation : 

References :

Chahal, Paramveer. “Reflection of Hindu and Buddhist Philosophy in T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land.” Paripex – Indian Journal of Research, June 2023, www.worldwidejournals.com/paripex/recent_issues_pdf/2023/June/reflection-of-hindu-and-buddhist-philosophy-in-ts-eliots-waste-land_June_2023_7565871201_7103795.pdf. Accessed 23 Jan. 2026.

Sri, P. S. “Upanishadic Perceptions in T. S. Eliot’s Poetry and Drama.” Rocky Mountain Review, vol. 62, no. 2, 2008, pp. 34–49. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/20479528. Accessed 23 Jan.  2026.

Translating the Jazz Age: Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby Between Literature and Film

This blog is written as part of an academic task assigned by Prof. Dr. Dilip Barad Sir, Head of the Department of English, MKBU. It focuses on the screening of The Great Gatsby (2013), directed by Baz Luhrmann, and critically examines the film as an adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel within the framework of Literature on Screen studies. Here is the link to the professor's research article for background reading: Click here 

Translating the Jazz Age: Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby Between Literature and Film

Introduction :

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925) is one of the most enduring literary representations of the American Jazz Age. Written during a period of rapid economic growth, cultural transformation, and moral uncertainty, the novel offers a sharp critique of the American Dream and the illusion of social mobility. Narrated by Nick Carraway, a Midwestern bond salesman, the story unfolds through his observations of Jay Gatsby, a self-made millionaire whose life is driven by his obsessive desire to reclaim his past love, Daisy Buchanan. Beneath its surface of wealth, glamour, and lavish parties, the novel exposes the moral emptiness, class divisions, and ethical decay that define American modernity. Fitzgerald’s richly lyrical and symbolic prose transforms the narrative into a “writerly” text, where meaning emerges not only through events but through language, imagery, and tone. Ultimately, The Great Gatsby is a meditation on time, memory, and the tragic impossibility of repeating the past. 

In 2013, director Baz Luhrmann adapted The Great Gatsby for a global, contemporary audience, bringing Fitzgerald’s modernist novel into the realm of postmodern cinema. Known for his distinctive “Red Curtain” style, Luhrmann rejects restrained realism in favor of excess, spectacle, and heightened emotional intensity. Released in the aftermath of the 2008 global financial crisis, the film reflects renewed anxieties surrounding wealth, consumerism, and moral irresponsibility. By combining the 1920s setting with contemporary hip-hop music, rapid editing, and digitally enhanced visuals, Luhrmann seeks to recreate the cultural shock that jazz music once produced in Fitzgerald’s era. Rather than aiming for strict textual fidelity, the film functions as an act of intersemiotic translation, attempting to convey the emotional energy and ideological tensions of the novel through cinematic language. This adaptation therefore invites critical examination of how literature is transformed when translated from page to screen, and whether cinematic spectacle can remain faithful to the novel’s underlying social critique. 

The Great Gatsby ( 2013 film ) Tailer : Click here

Part I: Frame Narrative and the “Writerly” Text

1. The Sanitarium Device: Externalization or Pathologization of the Narrator

One of the most significant deviations in Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby (2013) is the reconfiguration of the frame narrative. In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel (1925), Nick Carraway narrates retrospectively from an unspecified location in the Midwest. His narration emerges from moral reflection rather than psychological trauma, positioning him as a reliable, ethically grounded observer “within and without” the world he describes.

Luhrmann, however, frames Nick as a patient in a sanitarium, diagnosed with “morbid alcoholism” and encouraged by a doctor to write as a form of therapy. This device serves a clear cinematic function: it externalizes Nick’s internal monologue, providing a visible motivation for voiceover and written narration. By showing Nick physically typing the story, the film transforms the novel from a finished literary artifact into an unfolding act of remembrance, creating a clear cause-and-effect relationship between trauma, memory, and storytelling.

Yet, this structural choice also pathologizes Nick’s perspective. In the novel, Nick’s disillusionment is philosophical and social; in the film, it becomes psychological and clinical. His moral critique of the Buchanans risks being interpreted as a symptom of emotional breakdown rather than ethical judgment. Consequently, the film subtly shifts Nick toward the role of an unreliable narrator, where Gatsby appears less as a social construct shaped by American capitalism and more as a personal obsession reconstructed through trauma. While the sanitarium device strengthens cinematic coherence, it simultaneously weakens the novel’s broader moral authority.

2. Floating Text and the “Cinematic Poem”

To preserve the “writerly” quality of Fitzgerald’s prose, Luhrmann employs a distinctive visual strategy: key lines from the novel appear as floating text on the screen, most notably during the depiction of the Valley of Ashes. Luhrmann refers to this technique as “poetic glue,” attempting to merge literary language with cinematic imagery.

This approach acknowledges that Fitzgerald’s novel derives much of its power from language itself. By allowing words to hover over images, the film treats prose as a visual texture, reinforcing the symbolic weight of Fitzgerald’s descriptions and maintaining a strong intertextual connection to the source text.

However, this technique also risks creating what critics describe as “noble literalism.” Instead of allowing cinematic elements mise-en-scène, performance, and sound to reinterpret meaning, the floating text sometimes dictates interpretation too explicitly. The audience is encouraged to read the film rather than experience it emotionally. As a result, the strategy both bridges and constrains the adaptation: it preserves literary reverence while limiting cinematic ambiguity. The film becomes self-conscious of its status as an adaptation, occasionally resembling a visual exhibition of the novel rather than an autonomous cinematic work.

Part II: Adaptation Theory and the Question of Fidelity

1. Hutcheon’s “Knowing” vs. “Unknowing” Audience

Linda Hutcheon defines adaptation as “repetition without replication,” emphasizing that an adaptation must resonate with two distinct audiences: the knowing audience (familiar with the novel) and the unknowing audience (first-time viewers). Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby (2013) negotiates this duality carefully, though not without compromise.

A major example is the omission of Henry Gatz, Gatsby’s father, and the sparsely attended funeral. In Fitzgerald’s novel, this scene is pivotal: Henry Gatz grounds the myth of Jay Gatsby in the humble reality of James Gatz and highlights the ultimate tragedy of isolation the cruel truth that Gatsby’s elaborate parties did not translate into genuine human connection.

• For the knowing audience, the omission softens the novel’s social critique. Without Henry Gatz, Gatsby becomes a spectral figure, disconnected from his working-class origins, and the critique of the American class system is diminished.

• For the unknowing audience, the narrative focuses entirely on Gatsby and Nick’s emotional bond and Daisy’s betrayal, transforming the story into a romantic tragedy rather than a layered social commentary. This prioritizes emotional engagement over historical and sociological depth, making the adaptation more accessible to modern viewers. 

2. Alain Badiou’s “Truth Event” and the Hip-Hop Soundtrack

Philosopher Alain Badiou introduces the idea of a “Truth Event” a radical rupture that reveals the work’s transformative energy rather than its literal details. Luhrmann’s controversial hip-hop soundtrack exemplifies this concept.

In 1925, jazz was subversive, shocking, and rebellious, a sonic revolution that signaled cultural rupture. Translating this to 2013, Luhrmann uses Jay-Z, Kanye West, and Beyoncé to evoke the same emotional shock for contemporary audiences. The anachronistic mix of Jazz Age visuals with hip-hop audio is an act of intersemiotic translation: it preserves the novel’s energetic and moral tension while making it visceral and immediate for modern viewers. 

Part III: Characterization and Performance

5. Jay Gatsby: Romantic Hero or Corrupted Dreamer?

In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925), Jay Gatsby is deliberately constructed as a morally ambiguous figure. His idealism and “romantic readiness” coexist with criminality, revealed gradually through rumors, coded phone calls, and his association with Meyer Wolfsheim. This slow disclosure emphasizes that Gatsby’s dream is corrupted from within; his pursuit of Daisy is inseparable from bootlegging and financial fraud. Fitzgerald thus presents Gatsby not merely as a tragic lover, but as a cautionary figure whose faith in the American Dream is undermined by the immoral means used to achieve it.

Baz Luhrmann’s 2013 adaptation softens this corruption to position Gatsby more firmly as a romantic hero. The film minimizes explicit references to his criminal operations and instead foregrounds Leonardo DiCaprio’s emotional vulnerability and longing. Luhrmann’s “Red Curtain” style marked by grand visuals, dramatic music, and heroic framing encourages audience sympathy and transforms Gatsby into a victim of circumstance rather than an architect of his own illusion. As a result, the critique of the corrupted American Dream is overshadowed by romantic tragedy, privileging emotional identification over moral interrogation.

6. Daisy Buchanan: Reconstruction and the Loss of Moral Agency

In the novel, Daisy Buchanan functions as a symbol of privilege and carelessness. Fitzgerald portrays her as charming yet evasive, capable of insight but unwilling to accept responsibility. Her decision to remain with Tom Buchanan reflects a conscious choice of class security over emotional risk. Scenes involving her daughter further expose Daisy’s emotional detachment and reinforce the impossibility of Gatsby’s dream. Daisy’s agency is central to Fitzgerald’s critique of wealth and moral irresponsibility.

Luhrmann’s film reconstructs Daisy to make Gatsby’s obsession emotionally plausible for a contemporary audience. The adaptation removes or minimizes scenes that reveal her detachment, particularly her role as a mother, while amplifying Tom’s violence to frame Daisy as fearful and trapped. Although this revision increases audience sympathy, it reduces Daisy’s moral accountability. She becomes a passive object of desire rather than an active chooser, reinforcing a male-centered romantic narrative and weakening the novel’s critique of gender, class, and privilege. 

Part IV: Visual Style and Socio-Political Context

7. The “Red Curtain” Style, 3D, and the Spectacle of Wealth

Baz Luhrmann’s party scenes are the clearest expression of his “Red Curtain” aesthetic, marked by vortex camera movements, rapid montage editing, exaggerated mise-en-scène, and immersive 3D spectacle. These techniques deliberately overwhelm the viewer, mirroring the sensory overload of Gatsby’s parties and the excess of the Jazz Age. In theory, this hyper-artifice functions as a critique: the orgiastic wealth appears chaotic, dehumanizing, and almost grotesque, reflecting Fitzgerald’s portrayal of a society intoxicated by money and consumption.

However, the spectacle also produces a contradiction. The immersive power of 3D and the seductive beauty of the visuals risk transforming critique into celebration. Rather than distancing the audience from excess, the film invites participation in it. Viewers experience the pleasure of the party much as Gatsby’s guests do without consequence. As a result, the film becomes entangled in the very consumer culture it seeks to expose. The Red Curtain style thus operates ambivalently: it both exposes the emptiness of wealth and reproduces its allure, blurring the line between satire and spectacle.

8. The American Dream: 1925 Idealism vs. Post-2008 Disillusionment

Released in the aftermath of the 2008 global financial crisis, Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby reframes Fitzgerald’s American Dream through a lens of economic disillusionment. Luhrmann himself links the story to the “moral rubberiness” of Wall Street, suggesting that the unchecked capitalism of the 1920s finds a direct parallel in the financial excesses that led to the modern crisis. In this context, the Valley of Ashes becomes a powerful visual metaphor for economic abandonment representing those discarded by speculative wealth, corporate greed, and systemic inequality.

The Green Light, meanwhile, is reimagined less as a symbol of attainable hope and more as a permanently receding illusion. While Fitzgerald’s novel balances longing with critique, the film emphasizes distance and deferral. The dream is glamorous but structurally unreachable. The contrast between the golden glow of Gatsby’s mansion and the grey desolation of the Ashes visually encodes a post-2008 understanding of capitalism: wealth accumulates upward, while loss and ruin remain invisible. The film ultimately suggests that the American Dream is not merely corrupted, but fundamentally unattainable its pursuit endlessly aestheticized, even as its fulfillment remains impossible. 

Part V: Creative Response – The Plaza Hotel Confrontation

Scriptwriter’s Decision:

As the scriptwriter, I would keep the film’s addition of Gatsby losing his temper and almost hitting Tom, because it works better for cinema, even though it changes Gatsby’s character from the novel.

Justification:

In The Great Gatsby (1925), the Plaza Hotel scene is mainly about words, class, and truth. Gatsby does not become violent. Instead, Tom destroys him by revealing his criminal background, and Daisy slowly pulls away. Gatsby’s defeat is emotional and psychological. Fitzgerald keeps this moment quiet and controlled to show that Gatsby loses because his dream is false, not because he is weak or aggressive.

In the 2013 film, Baz Luhrmann turns this inner collapse into a physical moment. Gatsby shouting and almost striking Tom shows the breaking of his dream in a visible way. Film audiences need to see emotional change, not just hear it. This moment clearly shows when Gatsby loses control, when Daisy becomes afraid, and when the fantasy finally ends. Even though this change reduces Gatsby’s calm dignity from the novel, it creates strong dramatic tension and helps modern viewers understand the collapse of the American Dream instantly. Therefore, this choice is faithful to the medium of film, even if it is not completely faithful to the book. 

Conclusion :

Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby (2013) demonstrates both the possibilities and the limitations of adapting a modernist literary classic into contemporary cinema. Rather than offering a faithful reproduction of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1925 novel, the film operates as an act of translation transforming Fitzgerald’s “writerly” prose, symbolic ambiguity, and social critique into a visually excessive, emotionally heightened cinematic language. Through devices such as the sanitarium frame narrative, floating textual imagery, and the Red Curtain aesthetic, Luhrmann externalizes what is internal in the novel, making memory, desire, and collapse visible for a visual medium. In doing so, the film succeeds in engaging a modern, global audience, particularly those unfamiliar with the source text.

However, this translation comes at a cost. The film frequently replaces moral ambiguity with emotional clarity, softening Gatsby’s corruption, reducing Daisy’s agency, and reframing Nick’s ethical reflection as psychological trauma. While these choices strengthen dramatic tension and cinematic accessibility, they also dilute Fitzgerald’s critique of class privilege, carelessness, and the structural failure of the American Dream. The spectacle of wealth enhanced through 3D technology and rapid montage oscillates between satire and celebration, mirroring the contradictions of contemporary consumer culture rather than clearly condemning it.

Ultimately, Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby reveals that adaptation is not a question of fidelity versus infidelity, but of negotiation between mediums, audiences, and historical moments. By translating the Jazz Age through post-2008 disillusionment, hip-hop soundscapes, and visual excess, the film remains faithful to the spirit of Fitzgerald’s critique even as it departs from its form. The adaptation thus stands as a compelling case study within Literature on Screen studies one that underscores how cinematic spectacle can both illuminate and obscure literary meaning, leaving the American Dream as elusive on screen as it is on the page.

References : 

Barad, Dilip. (2026). Worksheet: Critical Analysis of Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby (2013). 10.13140/RG.2.2.10969.38244. 

The Great Gatsby. Directed by Baz Luhrmann, Warner Bros., 2013.