A vivacious conductor directs the
familiar 20th Century Fox theme. A splendidly apropos
addition to their logo and a charming introduction to
a film that lavishly mixes the old with the new,
musically, lyrically, visually, from film to tape,
from the 1890's to 1990's.
1890-something, Paris, Ewan haps into a
playwright/composer opportunity that cusps upon the
approval of Nicole Kidman, prize prostitute at the
indulgently adorned brothel "Moulin Rouge." Ah, but a
rich unlikable duke holds the cash that can turn the
"Rouge" into a legitimate theater making Kidman's
dreams come true - but at the cost of her future. At
first sight of her, Ewan falls in love.
Noisy, bumbling and dissonant, the picture opens
sporting painfully quick cuts and an annoying band of
thespians. I sigh and brace myself for a rough ride
... and then Ewan sings. My God, the purity of his
voice cuts through this clamor like hot honey through
ice. My worries melt, the foolish actors pause, jaws
lowered too, then they reprise their fumbling, only
to be stopped again by Ewan's enchanting melodies. To
add to the luscious oddity, Ewan's poetry is 20th
century: From Elton John, to the Beatles, to "The
Sound of Music" selections. The cuts lengthen, the
bumbling gives way to juicy drama and eccentric
humor. From which, this eclectic mix of time and
tunes pulls its sparkles together like the shiny
elements in a kaleidoscope.
Constructing surreal Parisian
cityscapes with cameras and computers instead of
plasterboard and nails, director Baz Lurhmann paints
aggressively with blues and whites; accenting the mix
with seductive red.
But it's the audio pallet that orchestrates all
intentions. Jim Broadbent grunts out Madonna's "Like
a Virgin," his big baritone vaudevillian voice giving
the piece a new sense. A bohemian fiddle cries,
weaving in and out of a variation to Sting's
"Roxanne." And then, gorgeously directed, the visuals
and scores climax beautifully at the end of a
disciplined second act.
Ewan's undying belief in love, "Love is like
oxygen, it's a many splendored thing, it lifts us up
where we belong, all you need is love," and his
magical mystery vocals power this abstract painting
like Russell Crowe in Gladiator.
Though they lie impotent at the feet of so much
artistic energy, this extravagant spectacle has but a
few flaws. First, as mentioned, the blotchy opening
act and silly acting troupe distract (even if it may
have been an aesthetic choice). John Leguizamo, a
fantastic dramatic actor, feels horribly miscast as
the dwarf. An early scene inside the elephant
(bedroom) has McGregor hiding behind Kidman from the
duke ... these sitcom antics fall far below the
might, resourcefulness, and whit of this
edgy-production. Lastly, though aptly chosen and
perfectly song, Elton John's "Your Song" reprises
just one two many times.
Again, these are mere weeds between the toes of a
splendidly costumed Indian elephant of a film fit to
carry royalty (or theater-going audiences). Speaking
of which, ours gave the picture a robust round of
applause.
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