REVIEW: Moulin Rouge: Baz Luhrmann’s French Kiss

Geoff Carter

Wednesday, May 30, 2001 | 1:47 a.m.

Grade: Four stars

Starring: Nicole Kidman, Ewan McGregor, John Leguizamo, Jim Broadbent and Richard Roxburgh.

Screenplay: Baz Luhrmann and Craig Pearce.

Director: Baz Luhrmann.

Rated: PG13 for mild sexual content.

Running time: --- 126 minutes.

"Love is like oxygen," says Christian (Ewan McGregor), the idealistic, hopelessly romantic narrator of Baz Luhrmann's sublime "Moulin Rouge." And he doesn't stop at that sweet chestnut, either -- he goes on to declare "Love is a many-splendored thing, love lift us up where we belong, all you need is love!"

Point taken -- "Moulin Rouge" is a love story, a comedy and a musical with decidedly post-ironic underpinnings. Set in 1899 -- "the summer of love ... a time of Bohemian revolution," intones Christian -- "Moulin Rouge" tells the story of how McGregor's penniless writer came to Paris, fell in love with a beautiful showgirl (a luminous Nicole Kidman) and became entangled with flamboyant nightclub owner Harold Zidler (Jim Broadbent), a vengeful and jealous duke (Richard Roxburgh) and Tolouse-Lautrec (John Leguizamo, and why not).

The story can be told in less than 10 minutes, but fortunately for us, Luhrmann takes the scenic route. It is a sumptuous visual feast, a surprisingly affecting tragedy and the most distinctive film you'll see in theaters this year. Coming off the overblown, empty inhuman spectacle of "Pearl Harbor," "Moulin Rouge" is a tender kiss after a week's worth of dope-slaps.

It's a real step for Australian Luhrmann. With the dizzy fun of his 1992 debut, "Strictly Ballroom," and his 1996 gangland take on "William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet," Luhrmann hinted at great things; with "Moulin Rouge" he delivers them, and piles a few more on top. It announces the arrival of a true-blue visual talent, one that could stand with fellow Aussie Alex Proyas and such mad geniuses as Terry Gilliam, Tim Burton and Jeunet & Caro. The fact that one of those artists didn't make "Moulin Rouge" -- and that 20th Century Fox financed it, to the tune of $50 million -- bodes well for Hollywood.

But will audiences choose it? Perhaps. We may not yet be so cynical that we can't accept the old boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl yarn -- and just in case we can't, Luhrmann packs the film with so much eye and ear candy that you can skirt the story completely, riding "Moulin Rouge" as if it were the historical French nightclub's signature windmill. Catherine Martin's glittering and worldly production design is practically a character in itself. Craig Armstrong's lush score is little short of exquisite. And who in their right mind could resist the stately Broadbent ripping through "Like a Virgin?"

That's the angle, you see: Every time a character in "Moulin Rouge" open his or her mouth to sing, a popular radio hit comes out. The lovers recite Elton John's "Your Song" to each other as if discovering the words for the first time, The Police's "Roxanne" is delivered as a sensuous, show-stopping tango and Queen's "The Show Must Go On" seems tailor-cut to the story. Bits of Nirvana, Rodgers and Hammerstein and even U2 are spoken or sung, and they provoke giggles even as they fit naturally into the pastiche.

Singing, speaking or just standing around, the performers put a lot of work into pushing the camp factor of "Moulin Rouge" to giddy, "Rocky Horror Picture Show" levels. McGregor brings a beautiful sadness to Christian, and isn't a half-bad singer besides. Kidman's Satine is so refined, so naturally alluring that you'll fall for her as surely as Christian did, coup d'etat. Leguizamo, Roxburgh and Broadbent see to their roles as if born to them.

Many critics have taken the low road with "Moulin Rouge," faulting its sensory overload. While it is an overwhelming two hours, I can think of worse ways to be overrun than with this harmless, velvet steamroller. You'll either love or misunderstand "Moulin Rouge" (I can only faintly imagine someone hating this film), but either way you'll leave the multiplex feeling mildly dazed and euphoric, drunk on the pure oxygen Luhrmann pumps into the theater.