“A small, flat-nosed Jew raised his large head and regarded me with two fine growths of hair which luxuriated in either nostril. After a moment I discovered his tiny eyes in the half-darkness” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
In an era of adaptation and readaptation and movie adaptation and live-action adaptation and Broadway adaptation and (inhale) on and on, the question of which pieces of media should be adapted is more prominent than ever. The Walt Disney Company felt comfortable recreating Dumbo, a flagrantly racist film, as a live-action monstrosity, but Song of the South aged so poorly that the original movie not only exists unadapted but remains unavailable on Disney+. This begs the question: in our eternal quest to relive the past and make that sweet sweet remake money, which pieces of media are too problematic to adapt for modern audiences? What should be remade to suit 21st-century sensibilities, and what should be left for dead?
According to numerous directors and writers, The Great Gatsby is good enough to be kept alive and kicking.
Of the books I have been forced to read for school, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald is my favorite. Full of drama and moral repugnancy, the all-American novel remains a staple of English literature classes and discussions of late-stage capitalism. It is also so flagrantly antisemitic that it makes Disney villains look like positive Jewish representations.
The quote above is the introduction to Meyer Wolfsheim, the book’s explicitly Jewish character, who is depicted as both physically and morally stereotypical of antisemitic caricatures. It’s extremely on-the-nose (no pun intended):
Jewish-sounding name: Check. The name Meyer means landlord in Hebrew. Ouch.
Big nose: Check. It’s the first part of his introduction.
Greedy: Check. He’s a gambler.
Shady: Check. He talks about gang violence, and he is said to have rigged the World Series. He is also a bootlegger in Prohibition-Era New York.
Powerful: Check. He’s got “business gonnegtion[s]” (Chapter 4).
Disloyal: Double-Check. He claims to be Jay Gatsby’s friend, yet he (spoilers) refuses to attend his funeral.
Generally creepy: Triple-Check. He has cufflinks made out of human molars. Enough said.
Despite all of his antagonistic traits, Wolfsheim is an extremely minor character in The Great Gatsby. He is certainly not the primary antagonist—that role goes to Gatsby’s love interest Daisy Buchanan (my personal opinion, but it’s the correct one). After his colorful introduction in which he talks about death and brags about human teeth, Meyer essentially disappears. He is referenced in passing by our narrator Nick Carraway as someone whom Nick does not want to do business with, and Tom Buchanan angrily reveals Gatsby’s connections to Wolfsheim and his bootlegging ventures as a way to tarnish Jay’s reputation. Wolfsheim’s second and final in-person appearance occurs at the very end after Gatsby’s murder. He informs Nick that, although he is very sad at the loss of Jay Gatsby, he doesn’t go to the funerals of murdered friends. The readers are left to assume that he has had several murdered friends.
And that’s it. Two appearances, a couple of references, and one big PR problem for Fitzgerald. As a Jewish woman interested in character analysis (yes, I am fun at parties), I find caricatures like Meyer Wolfsheim fascinating. The canon of popular Western literature rarely features a figure so blatantly antisemitic in such a two-dimensional way. Shakespeare’s Shylock from The Merchant of Venice is one of the only comparable characters that comes to mind. Wolfsheim barely does anything in the story; from a narrative standpoint, Meyer’s purpose is to increase the intrigue around Jay Gatsby and provide world-building. His few scenes could be cut out of the novel entirely with little impact. Amidst Gatsby’s mixed metaphors and confusing allegories, Meyer Wolfsheim is a cut-and-paste derogatory figure whose primary purpose is to make both Gatsby and the entire Jewish community look worse. He is my favorite character in the novel.
The Great Gatsby has remained an iconic story for the last century, and like most well-received original works older than a decade, it has been adapted on numerous occasions. Shortly after Gatsby entered the public domain in 2021, a Broadway musical adaptation catapulted its way into the Big Apple. I was lucky enough to see the original cast last June featuring Jeremy Jordan as Jay Gatsby and Eva Noblezada as Daisy Buchanan. Not wanting to spoil the party, I went into the show blind apart from my knowledge of the book. Naturally, the biggest question on my mind walking into Broadway Theatre was about Meyer.
When adapting a piece of problematic media, writers and directors have a couple of options. They could either cut out any evidence of the indiscretion, rework it to be more palatable for modern audiences, or keep it largely the same, bigotry and all. As I previously stated, Wolfsheim could easily be left out of any Gatsby adaptation without hindering the message of the original text. That’s a lot coming from me, his biggest fan. How would they deal with him in a musical format? Would he be in it? Would he still be explicitly Jewish?
The answer is a complicated one. Broadway Wolfsheim is a gravely-voiced gambler with the same teeth cufflinks and the same eerie friendliness. He’s much more sinister than in the book, acting closer to The Godfather than the strange twice-removed cousin I met at my Bat Mitzvah. He gets a solo number—the Act 2 opener entitled “Shady” in which he dances with a chorus line of men in trench coats and sings about how “[e]verybody is a tiny bit shady.” It is certainly a dramatic number to begin the act. Wolfsheim’s solo portrays him as significantly more villainous than he is in the novel. He threatens to get back at Gatsby for spending his time with his girlfriend Daisy instead of maintaining their bootlegging business. Hearing that song in person, I was very surprised. What is ol’ Wolfy planning for Gatsby? Are they making Wolfsheim the villain? Did they read the book? I was half convinced that the playwrights would have Meyer assassinate Gatsby in place of George Wilson, the book’s working-class murderer. Wolfsheim luckily didn’t pull the trigger on Jay (that would certainly muddy the overarching themes), but he did play a much bigger role in his demise.
Eric Anderson and The Great Gatsby cast members during the song Shady, the Act 2 opener (Carole Di Tosti)
Very importantly, while Wolfsheim keeps his greed and ups the villainy, he loses the title of “Jew.” To adapt his character for Broadway audiences, the playwrights of The Great Gatsby chose to omit the overt Jewishness of his character but make him more important to the plot and make him worse. It struck me as odd that they would want to put more emphasis on a character whom most English professors would rather forget entirely. Additionally, Wolfsheim still checks many boxes for an antisemitic caricature (ignoring the physical features of his actor). The fact that he aids in the murder of Gatsby arguably adds to the stereotype; he retains his antisemitic character traits—stereotypical name, greed, shadiness, power, disloyalty, creepiness—with the addition of active maliciousness.
Of course, one could argue that the omission of his religion cancels out any association that the character has with Judaism. Isn’t claiming that a greedy, powerful bootleger that isn’t explicitly Jewish is a Jewish caricature antisemitic in itself? Are you saying that his evil traits make him appear Jewish? Bad English major! Go to your room!
It’s a longstanding debate with no definitive winner. What isn’t up for debate is the fact that Meyer Wolfsheim was written to disparage the Jewish community, and now a new and shiny version of him singing and dancing for the world to see.
Frankly, I don’t know how I feel about this adaptation. As much as I love this character in every universe, I can’t help but think that omitting him would have been a safer option for the Broadway show. Past film adaptations (namely 1926, 1949, and 2000) have done so, but they do feel a bit incomplete. Then again, if we hide Meyer Wolfsheim from future audiences, are we burning the metaphorical book? Isn’t it important to remember antisemitic characters and the harm they have done? A startling percentage of the American public is uneducated regarding the Holocaust, and erasing other historical examples of anti-Jewish hate will only increase our country’s ignorance regarding Jewish issues. Portrayals like Wolfsheim in novels as famous as Gatsby remind us that antisemitism is deeply embedded in our society and the way it perceives Jewish people. It is everywhere.
Case in point: the convicted felon currently preparing to move back into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue has expressed antisemitic sentiments reminiscent of those featured in The Great Gatsby. He probably views Jewish people, my people, in the same way that F. Scott Fitzgerald did all those years ago. It’s scary. I don’t quite know what to make of it, but I do know that Jay Gatsby was right all along; we can repeat the past. As long as there are powerful people who believe in the myth of Mother Gothels and Shylocks and Meyer Wolfsheims, the past and its ceaseless hatred will beat on.
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