It’s understood from the first frame of any Baz Luhrmann film that nothing is going to have much to do with the real world. That’s the whole point. You don’t go to one of the man’s films to be entranced by finely-etched characters or dry wit; you go or not based on your appetite for noisy sensory overkill. Spectacles like Romeo + Juliet and Moulin Rouge don’t tell stories so much as they smash elements together so that everyone can “ooh” and “aah” as the sparks glitter and fly. Anachronisms are no matter, as he flings straight-no-chaser Shakespeare into the sunny alleyways of Venice Beach and late-20th century pop-mashups into fin-de-siècle Paris. His signature style is film as fireworks display, a truism brought tediously to life in his newest work of crassly commercial culture-hacking, The Great Gatsby.