Perhaps the best way to respond to Baz Luhrmann’s latest film would be to revel in its giddying visual spectacle, shed the odd tear at the most poignant scenes, and forget that it was based on a book. But when that book is The Great Gatsby, one of the greatest works of American literature, this proves to be a challenge indeed. In some ways, Luhrmann, whose past credits include Romeo + Juliet (1996) and Moulin Rouge! (2001), is the right director for the wrong movie – comparisons between the book and film are inevitable, and hardly ever to the latter’s credit, not least given how he transposes the subtle, nuanced mastery of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s style into a unapologetically ostentatious, glittery extravaganza of a film throbbing to the rhythms of Jay-Z, Florence +The Machine and Lana Del Rey.

The visual effects are as stunning as one might expect, although combined with the pristine precision of 3D, watching the first few minutes of the film felt a bit like walking through a pop-up version of The Game of Life. There are also instances when the film refuses to take itself seriously even when it really should: the episode where Gatsby meets Daisy in Carraway’s house, preceded by a procession of men in dark suits holding a pink tiered cake, elicits cheap laughter but not much else.

But the moments where the film does delve beneath its glitzy surface are beautifully rendered, owing not least to the consistently high-quality acting of its cast. Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jay Gatsby proves remarkably faithful to the image of the mysterious young millionaire that the book evokes. It is not hard to feel for his character and feel pricked by a fleeting sense of unease after noticing parallels between Gatsby’s character and one’s own.  Tobey Maguire is surprisingly convincing as the narrator Nick Carraway, and Carey Mulligan and Joel Edgerton both deliver impressively controlled performances.

Like Fitzgerald’s book, which received mixed reviews when it was first published in 1925, Luhrmann’s film might find a more receptive critical audience in subsequent generations. But for now, even if its flamboyant superficiality might be viewed an apt reflection of the empty illusoriness of the American dream, one has to admit that a bit more depth, and a bit less fluff, are needed before the powerful chords of the book’s theme can strike home with any resonance at all.