Nick: In my and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice. “Always try to see the best in people”, he would say. As a consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments. But even I have a limit. Back then, all of us drank too much. The more in tune with the times we were the more we drank. And none of us contributed anything new. When I came back from New York, I was disgusted.

Doctor: I see, Mr. Caraway.

Nick: Disgusted with everyone and everything. Only one man was except from my disgust.

Doctor: One man? Mr. Caraway?

Nick: Gatsby.

Doctor: Was he a friend of yours?

Nick: He was the single most hopeful person I’ve ever met. And I am ever likely to meet again. There was something about him, sensitivity. He was like… He was like one of those machines that register earthquakes 10 000 miles away.

Doctor: Where’d you meet him?

Nick: At a .. At a party…in New York. In the summer of 1922 the tempo of the city approached hysteria.

Nick: Stocks reached record peaks and Wall Street boomed in a steady golden roar. The parties were bigger. The shows were broader. The buildings were higher. The morals were looser and the ban on alcohol had backfired making the liquor cheaper. Wall Street was luring the young and ambitious. And I was one of them. I rented a house 20 miles from the city on Long Island. I lived at West Egg in a forgotten groundskeeper’s cottage, squeezed among the mansions of the newly rich. To get started, I bought a dozen volumes on credit, banking and investments. All new to me.

Voice:… hit another high.

Clerk: The market’s moving up, up, up! Well, of cause, nothing is 100 percent. I wouldn’t go investing every penny.

Nick: At Yale I dreamed of being a writer but I gave all that up. With the sun shining and the bursts of leaves on the trees I planned to spend and I probably would have … were it not…amusement that beckoned from beyond the walls of that colossal castle owned by a gentleman I had not yet met named Gatsby.

Doctor: So, he was your neighbor.

Nick : My neighbor. Yeah. When I think about it, the history of the summer really began the night I drove over to my cousin Daisy’s for dinner. She lived across the bay in old moneyed East Egg. Her husband was heir to one of America’s wealthiest families. His name was Tom Buchanan. When we were at Yale together, he’d been a sporting star. But now his glory days were behind him and he contented himself with.

Henry: Telephone, Monsieur Buchanan.

Myrtle: It’s me.

Nick: … other affairs.

Tom: I thought I told you not to call me here.

Nick: Tom! Oh!

Tom: How’s the great American novel coming?

Nick: I’m selling bonds with Walter Chase’s outfit.

Tom: Let’s say after dinner, you and I, we go into town.

Nick: I can’t.

Tom: Catch up with the old wolf pack.

Nick: Big day on the job tomorrow.

Tom: Nonsense! We’re going. First team, all-American. You see. Made me who I am today. Forest Hills. Played the Prince of Wales. What’s sissy. Life is something you dominate. If you’re any good.

Nick: Oh!

Daisy: Hey.

Tom: Where are you? The doors. Close them.

Henry: Sorry. Thank you.

Daisy: Is that you, my lovely?

Nick: Daisy Buchanan, the golden girl. Breathless warmth flowed from her. A promise that there was no one else in the world she so wanted to see.

Daisy: Do they miss me in Chicago?

Nick: Yes, Um, at least a dozen people send their love.

Daisy: How gorgeous.

Nick: They’re absolutely in mourning. They’re crying. Yes.

Daisy. No. I don’t believe you.

Nick: They’re screaming. “Daisy Buchanan we can’t live without you!”

Daisy: I’m paralyzed with happiness. Jordan Baker a very famous golfer.

Nick; She is the most frightening person I’d ever seen. Well, I’ve seen your face on the corner of Sporting Life. Nick Caraway. (But I enjoyed looking at her.)

Jordan: I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.

Daisy: This summer I’ll fling you two together. I’ll push you into linen closets and out to sea in boats.

Jordan: I’m not listening to a word.

Tom: So, Nick, Daisy told me that you’re over in West Egg throwing your lot in with those social-climbing primitive new-money types.

Nick: My little shack’ just a cardboard box at 80 a month.

Daisy: Your life is adorable.

Jordan: I know somebody in West Egg.

Nick: I don’t know a single person that side of the bay.

Jordan: You must know Gatsby.

Daisy: Gatsby? What Gatsby?

Henry: Madame, the dinner is servi.

Daisy: would you like to hear a family secret?

Nick: That’s why I came over.

Daisy: It’s about the butler’s nose.

Jordan: Things went from bad to worse.

Tom: I hate that word ‘hulking’.

Daisy: I heard a rumor that you were getting married to a girl out West.

Nick; it’s a libel. I’m too poor.

Jordan: they have to be old so they die quickly.

Nick: can’t we talk about something else? Anything. Crops. You’re making me feel uncivilized, Daisy.

Tom; Civilization’s going to pieces. Have you read “The rise of the Colored Empires” by this fellow Goddard? Everybody ought to read it. The idea is that’s up to us, the dominant race to watch out for these other races will have control of things.

Daisy: Tom’s very profound lately. He reads deep books with long words in them.

Tom; it’s been proved. It’s scientific. We’ve got to beat them down.

Henri: Buchanan residence. Monsieur Wilson, from the garage. Monsieur Buchanan.

Tom; Excuse me, I’ll be right back.

Daisy; I’m sorry.

Nick: Well, this Mr. Gatsby you spoke of

Tom; I’m working on it.

Nick: … he’s my neighbor.

Jordan: Shh! Don’t talk. I wanna hear what happens.

Tom; ‘t care what you want, Daisy: I don

Nick: something happening?

Jordan: Why, I think everybody knew.

Nick: Well, I don’t.

Jordan; Tom’s got some woman in New York.

Nick: got some woman?

Jordan; She might have the decency not to telephone at dinner time. Don’t you think?

Daisy: is that too much to ask?

Tom: don’t create a scene.

Daisy: I love seeing you at my table. You remind me of a rose. An absolute rose doesn’t he

Tom; so after dinner

Nick: I’m not like a rose

Tom; Nick wanted to go into town. To the Yale

Daisy: Nicky, stay.

Nick: I have to work early.

Tom: Nonsense.

Daisy: There’s so much to talk about.

Tom: It’s just for a drink or two.

Nick; None of us could ignore that fifth guest’s shrill metallic urgency.

Daisy; Nicky

Nick; what?

Daisy: It’s just, well, you see, I think everything’s terrible anyhow.

Nick: Really?

Daisy: Yes. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything. I’ve had a very bad time, Nicky. I’m pretty cynical about everything.

Nick: Your daughter, I suppose she talks and eats and everything? That’s the best thing

Daisy: Pammy? Oh, yes. Listen, Nick, when she was born Tom was god knows where with god knows whom, and I asked the nurse if it was a boy or a girl. And she said it was a girl and I wept; “I’m Glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool. That’s the best thing a girl in this world can be. A beautiful little fool.” All the bright, precious things fade so fast. And they don’t come back.

Nick: When I arrived home I noticed that a figure had emerged on my neighbor’s dock. And something told me it was Mr. Gatsby. Seeming he was reaching something out there in the dark. The green light. I don’t wanna talk about this, doctor

Doctor: -Then write about it.

Write about it?


Why would I do that?

You said yourself writing brought you solace.

Yeah, well, it didn’t bring anyone else much solace. I wasn’t any good.

No one need ever read it. You could always fire it.

What would I write about?

Anything. Whatever brings you ease: a memory …a thought, a place. Write it down.

A place. The valley of Ashes was a grotesque place. New York’s dumping ground halfway between West Egg and the city where the burnt-out coal that powered the booming golden city was discarded by men who moved dimly and already crumbling trough the power air. This fantastic farm was ever watched by Dr. T.J. Eckleburg a forgotten oculist whose eyes brooded over it all like the eyes of God. Tom had invited me to town, apparently for lunch at the Yale Club but the day took an unexpected turn.

Come on. Come on!

What do you mean?

Trust me.

What are we doing?

Conductor: where are you going?


What are you doing?

Jump, come on!


Come on!

Oh, God. Tom, wait. Wait a second, would you?

Dominate, Nick. Dominate! Hello, Wilson. How’s business?

Yeah, I can’t complain. So when are you gonna sell me that car?

Oh, I’ve still got my man working on it. Yeah, well, he works pretty slow, don’t he?

Maybe I’d better sell it somewhere else.

Oh. No, no, no. I wasn’t saying that. I was

Myrtle: If it’s business, you should be talking to me. Get me some chairs … why don’t you, so somebody can sit down.

Uh, sure. Yeah, let’s talk business. I’ll get the chairs. Myrtle, why don’t you entertain?

Hurry up.



Mr. Buchanan. Candy?

No, thank you.


Mrs. Wilson, Nick Carraway.

Oh. A pleasure.

Nick’s a writer


I’m in bond actually.

I want you get on the next train.



Can we get a dog? For the apartment?

Whatever you want.

Mr. Buchahan, do you want a soda?

I’m fine.


Call your sister. She’ll like him.

No, no, no. that’s all right, thank you.

Catherine’s said to be very good-looking by people who know.

Oh. Really, I can’t.


You wanna embarrass Myrtle? That’s rude.

I’m Catherine. Aren’t we having a party?

Um, I’m not sure … now is a good time.

I’m just going. Actually, there are …


Oh, Chester, this must be the cousin.

Oh, you are adorable.

Oh, thank you.

Chester McKee. Pleasure to meet you.

Nick Caraway.

Come on. .. Don’t you like me?

Oh. Hey. A plant.

Myrtle. Myrtle turtle!

I really must go.

Get everybody a drink before they fall asleep.

Tom, I’m just leaving now.

Nick. Wait.

I’m going. I’ve gotta get out of here.

Nonsense! Go on in there and talk to Catherine.

I’m not comfortable. Daisy’s my cousin.

Listen, I know you like to watch. I remember that from the college.

No, no, no. I don’t make my judgment.

We have all summer now, do you wanna sit on the sideline and watch play ball?

Play ball

Ain’t we good enough for you?

Come on! Come on! Come on!

He’s gonna sit on the side and watch, huh? or is he gonna play ball?

Take off your hat and stay a while.

Oh, hey, Nick. McKee is the artistic game.


Nick’s artistic.

No. No, no, no.


I write a little, but …

Catherine: Really? Do you live on Long Island too?

I live at West Egg.

I was there at a party about a month ago. A man named Gatsbys. Do you know him?

I live right next door to him?

He’s cousin of Kaiser Wilhelm’s. You know, the evil German king?


Hey, Micky. Take a picture of that.

Myrtle: Ah! Don’t, I’m not one of those models. You can if you want.

Neither of them can’t stand a person the person they’re married to.

Doesn’t she like Wilson either?

Myrtle: he’s greasy, little sсumbag

No. thanks, I feel just as good on nothing at all. Nerve pills. I get them from a doctor in Queens. Do you want one?

Oh, no. My nerves are fine, thanks.

Nick: I had been drunk twice in my life. And the second time was that afternoon. That night, in the hidden flat that Tom kept for Myrtle we were buoyed by a sort of chemical madness. A willingness of the heart that burst thunderously upon us all. And suddenly, I began to like New York. This is better than the Yale Club. High over the city our yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrets of the casual watcher in the street. And I was too looking up and wondering. I was within. Enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.

You have got no right to speak her name.

Daisy, Daisy, Daisy!

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