F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby is a literary masterclass in symbolism—lush with metaphor, imagery, and hidden meaning. It’s also one of the most adapted American novels for the screen, with versions ranging from the restrained 1949 noir-style film to Baz Luhrmann’s 2013 visual spectacle. But while filmmakers have taken wildly different stylistic approaches, they all wrestle with the same question: how do you translate Fitzgerald’s dense, literary symbolism into compelling visual storytelling?
For screenwriters and filmmakers, The Great Gatsby offers a fascinating case study in symbolic adaptation. In this post, we’ll break down how key symbols from the novel are handled across major adaptations, and what lessons writers can draw about using symbolism on screen—subtly or boldly—to enhance theme, character, and mood.
Why Symbolism Matters in Screenwriting
Symbolism is often thought of as a literary device—a province of the page rather than the screen. But film is a deeply visual medium, and symbolism thrives when used artfully in production design, cinematography, costuming, and sound. In screenwriting, symbolic elements can:
- Deepen thematic resonance
- Echo a character’s inner world
- Provide visual shorthand for complex ideas
- Invite rewatchability and layered interpretation
As screenwriters, we often face a challenge: how to “show, not tell” abstract ideas. This is where symbolism becomes our secret weapon—especially when adapting literature that leans heavily into the symbolic.
The Green Light: Hope, Desire, and Distance
Let’s begin with the most famous symbol in The Great Gatsby: the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock.
In the Novel
Fitzgerald uses the green light as a beacon of Gatsby’s longing—his hope that he can reclaim a romanticized past and build a future with Daisy. It pulses with unattainable desire, always just out of reach.
On Screen
In the 2013 Luhrmann adaptation, the green light is rendered as a literal glowing beacon—almost supernatural in its visibility, piercing through the night like a cosmic lure. It appears multiple times and is framed with grandeur and melancholy, amplified by a modern soundtrack that underscores Gatsby’s obsession.
The 1974 Jack Clayton version with Robert Redford takes a subtler approach. The light is real, but its presence is quieter—less mythic, more tragic. It doesn’t glow with the same otherworldly urgency, which some critics felt weakened its symbolic power.
Takeaway for Writers
When adapting symbolism, amplification can serve the screen well. Luhrmann’s exaggerated green light might feel too on-the-nose to some, but it makes Gatsby’s longing visceral for a modern audience. As screenwriters, don’t be afraid to elevate subtle textual elements if they serve the theme—and especially if they create emotional impact.
The Eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg: God or Emptiness?
Another iconic symbol is the decaying billboard of an oculist, looming over the Valley of Ashes.
In the Novel
The eyes watch over the moral decay of society like a stand-in for God—or a parody of divine presence in a world devoid of true ethics. Wilson refers to them as the eyes of God after Myrtle’s death, reinforcing the idea of judgment or cosmic irony.
On Screen
Both the 1974 and 2013 films portray the billboard, but Luhrmann again leans into stylization. The eyes glow eerily in the night; they loom during key moments of tension, including Myrtle’s death. Their framing and lighting suggest something beyond human, lending weight to their metaphorical significance.
Symbolic Multiplicity
The eyes have no fixed meaning—are they judgment? A critique of capitalism? A symbol of moral blindness? This ambiguity works beautifully in film, where visual symbols can mean different things to different viewers.
Takeaway for Writers
Ambiguity can be powerful. You don’t always need to explain what a symbol means—sometimes, it’s more compelling to let the audience wrestle with it. This is especially true in visual mediums, where a repeated motif can grow richer with each appearance.
Gatsby’s Mansion: Illusion of Grandeur
Gatsby’s home is more than a setting—it’s a symbol of excess, aspiration, and ultimately, emptiness.
In the Novel
The mansion is described in lavish detail, but the opulence masks a hollowness. Gatsby throws extravagant parties not for joy, but as bait to lure Daisy. His wealth is performative.
On Screen
Production design becomes symbolic storytelling. In the 2013 film, Gatsby’s mansion is a gilded fantasy—complete with fireworks, champagne rivers, and surreal choreography. It’s a dream palace. The 1974 version is more grounded, emphasizing classical architecture and quiet wealth, but still communicates a sense of overcompensation.
In both versions, the house begins to feel cavernous and cold once Gatsby’s dream starts to unravel. It transforms from magical to mausoleum.
Takeaway for Writers
A location can carry symbolic weight. Whether it’s a house, a car, or a costume, ask yourself: what does this object represent emotionally or thematically? How can its visual presentation evolve over time to reflect a character’s arc?
The Valley of Ashes: Decay and the American Dream
The bleak stretch of land between West Egg and New York is a crucial symbolic setting—often overlooked but powerfully rendered on screen.
In the Novel
This industrial wasteland is a liminal space between worlds—where the poor like the Wilsons live in squalor, and where moral corruption (Tom’s affair, Myrtle’s death) thrives. It’s a byproduct of industrial capitalism and spiritual decay.
On Screen
In the 2013 version, Luhrmann leans into sepia-toned desolation, with smoggy skies and ghostly laborers. It’s a stark contrast to Gatsby’s parties. The shift in color palette and production design between the two spaces reinforces the social chasm the novel critiques.
The 1974 film, while more subdued, still paints the Valley with a kind of visual fatigue—long, dusty roads and industrial greys.
Takeaway for Writers
Consider contrasting environments symbolically. The tension between Gatsby’s glittering parties and the ashes of poverty becomes a visual metaphor for the broken promise of the American Dream.
Clothing and Color: Symbolism in Costume Design
Symbolism in adaptation isn’t confined to set pieces—it also lives in wardrobe.
Gatsby’s Pink Suit
In both major adaptations, Gatsby’s pink suit—worn near the climax—becomes a loud statement. In the novel, it’s a symbol of his lack of taste, despite his wealth; a mark of his outsider status. On screen, it reads as an attempt to perform aristocracy while exposing his vulnerability.
Daisy’s White Dresses
Daisy is often dressed in white—suggesting purity or perfection. But as the story unfolds, the color begins to feel ironic, even false. White becomes a mask, concealing selfishness and cowardice.
Takeaway for Writers
Costume can do more than signify status—it can reveal a character’s psychological armor, their desires, and their delusions. Collaborate with your costume designer to align visual choices with narrative arcs.
Modern Soundtracks and Musical Symbolism
Baz Luhrmann took heat and praise in equal measure for his use of a hip-hop and electro-swing soundtrack in The Great Gatsby (2013). Songs by Jay-Z, Lana Del Rey, and Florence + The Machine were deliberately anachronistic.
Why?
Because the soundtrack becomes a symbolic bridge between eras. Just as Gatsby performs 1920s aristocracy through illusion, Luhrmann performs a version of the Jazz Age for a 21st-century audience—highlighting the timelessness of greed, ambition, and spectacle.
The music is the metaphor. It’s both immersive and alienating.
Takeaway for Writers
Sound can be symbolic, too. Whether it’s diegetic or part of the score, music can evoke emotional subtext, underscore themes, and modernize a period piece without sacrificing depth.
Conclusion: Symbolism as Emotional Architecture
Adapting The Great Gatsby is a high-wire act—it’s easy to fall into the trap of superficial visuals without thematic weight. But the most successful adaptations understand that symbolism isn’t just decoration—it’s emotional architecture. When used with intention, symbols don’t just echo a theme; they carry it.
For screenwriters, Gatsby offers enduring lessons:
- Lean into visual motifs
- Let symbols evolve over the course of the narrative
- Use design, costume, and music as thematic tools
- Trust the audience to find meaning in patterns
Symbolism is the language beneath the dialogue. And in a story like The Great Gatsby, it’s the thing that lingers long after the last party ends.
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