'Moulin Rouge' depicts the decadence of 1899 Paris
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"Moulin Rouge" is a film some people will love, but others will surely hate. It's a wild, churning ride that lavishes the screen with opulent colors, gyrating dances, huge chorus numbers, dwarves and freaks and courtesans and dreamers. It tells us the story of a writer and a burlesque star who fall in love. And it does so in amazing ways.
Baz Luhrmann, who directed the pop-culture-crazy "William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet" (the one with Mercutio in drag and, you may recall, a young Leonardo Di Caprio), paints his picture in lively Technicolorlike tones, takes his camera on improbable sprints around his sets and swaddles everything and everyone in the loudest, most exciting fabrics imaginable. Per square inch, "Moulin Rouge" may use more red velvet than any other film in history.
At its core, "Moulin Rouge," a musical set in 1899 Paris, is a simple love story. Christian (Ewan McGregor) is a typical youngster. He fancies himself to be a writer. He is a romantic. Drawn by wild tales of the city's Montmartre district, he rents a cheap flat and sets out to live.
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Much of the hype surrounding "Moulin Rouge" has focused on its two stars and whether they can sing. Luhrmann himself has talked endlessly about trying to revive the musical. Forget all that. Sit back and let Luhrmann's imagination swirl around you.
"Moulin Rouge" is a little messy at times, maybe a little self-indulgent. But Luhrmann knows when to pull back to prevent the movie from becoming a parody of itself. He is helped in this by an excellent cast - who, it turns out, can sing as well as most pop stars working today - and a visual style that is, at the least, unique. Yes, Luhrmann is in love with his own brilliance. But hey, maybe it's deserved.
After a group of Bohemians led by John Leguizamo as the painter Toulouse-Lautrec literally falls into Christian's lap, they enlist him to write a musical they want to perform at the Moulin Rouge. All go to the club one night with Christian believing he is to meet Satine to pitch the play. Instead, she is supposed to visit with the Duke (Richard Roxburgh), a potential Moulin Rouge investor who wants Satine to be part of the deal.
Satine mistakes Christian for the Duke and falls in love with him after he sings a few lines of Elton John's "Your Song." If this sounds a little bizarre, it's absolute lunacy on the screen. The first minutes of the film are so crammed with swirling people, kicking legs, up-close leering faces and full-throated laughs, they feel like a roller coaster after a full meal. Luhrmann seems to be trying to weed out the weak in the audience. Make it through these early scenes and the rest of the experience is cake.
Toulouse-Lautrec and his gang are played with the kind of campy abandon that reaches back to the early days of cinema, something Luhrmann seems to fetishize. The Duke, with his pencil-thin mustache, floppy blond hair and lecherous sneer, is cut right from silent movies. As a second job, he likely ties damsels to train tracks.
Into this wild mess, Luhrmann drops his stars. "Moulin Rouge" would never work if Satine and Christian were unable to rise above the madness and offer us something that feels familiar. McGregor, who has abandoned the edge of his "Trainspotting" days, is fine as Christian. His job is to look good, sing well and be earnest. Kidman, though, has the tougher role.
Satine is something of a cliché. But Kidman manages to bring more to her, making us understand her ambition and disappointment, calling forth emotions that, if used in court against her soon-to-be ex-husband, would help her get a tasty settlement. If Kidman is looking to establish herself as more than the former Mrs. Tom Cruise, "Moulin Rouge" should do it.
As Satine and Christian fall deeper in love, the Duke becomes suspicious and threatens to destroy the Moulin Rouge. Through a series of song-and-dance numbers, the story unfolds. The Duke and Moulin Rouge owner Harold Zidler (an excellent Jim Broadbent) discuss Satine's future in a rendition of Madonna's "Like a Virgin" that is both stunning and frightening to watch. The cast gives a fiery version of the Police's "Roxanne" that manages to bring new depth to the song. And McGregor and Kidman perform a hallucinogenic pop medley (including bits of Whitney Houston and Joe Cocker) across the rooftops of Paris that ends with the moon itself proclaiming their love. It's beautiful, evocative filmmaking.
Many will surely find this all way over the top, which in some ways it is. But Luhrmann, who managed the same trick with "Romeo + Juliet," somehow makes it all work. There are very few truly off-key notes in the movie. Instead, the colors and songs all come together to form a movie that is like no other before it.
Like a guardian angel who pulls us out of the craziness time and again, Luhrmann stops occasionally to show us moments of quiet.
But don't worry. The madness always begins again.
John Zebrowski can be reached at 206-464-8292 or jzebrowski@seattletimes.com.