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

Oh...oh god. I went to see this movie expecting it to be bad but I...I...oh god man. I never expected this. Never in my entire life did I expect this. I wish I could take it all back. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I saw this movie when I could have been doing something more constructive like watching Army Of Darkness for the 97th time or arranging comic books by the last letter of the main artist's name.

But I foresook those more meaningful things and saw Moulin Rouge, an experience I won't soon forget. And to all involved with this film, I have only this to say.

The public has a fear of musicals, and for good reason. For every good musical out there, which by my count is TWO (Cannibal: The Musical and The Rocky Horror Picture Show), there are a dozen putrid ones. It's just something about bursting out in song for no apparant reason that turns people off.

I'll never understand the public's love of Grease or West Side Story. All I know is that the only parts of those movies that I actually semi-enjoy are the NON-SINGING parts.

Unfortunately, there are precious few non-singing parts on Moulin Rouge and the ones that do exist are unbearably painful which only leaves me sitting there for minutes of RED HOT BLINDING TORTURE OH GOD MAKE IT STOP STOP SINGING AHHHHHH I HATE YOU!

You can see just how much I enjoyed this film. You've got to be either misinformed, a masochist, or completely and udderly whipped to willingly see this film, and since you're reading this review, you can cross misinformed off of the list, because I am in no way exaggerating the SHEER F#&@ING TORTURE THIS FILM IS. This movie is the purest, most untainted embodyment of evil I've seen since Six Days, Seven Nights.

The gist of the plot revolves around a love-stricken English poet (McGregor) who moves to France due to the Bohemian Revolution. He wants to be in the thick of things, and the place to be in the city is the Moulin Rouge, the biggest nightclub where you're sure to find many sluttily dressed women cancan dancing and selling their "services."

The poet meets up with a Bohemian play troupe trying to get one of their plays performed at the Moulin Rouge, and soon becomes the new play writer for these men, penning a glorious song called "The Sound Of Music."

"Hey!" you're probably thinking, "Isn't that already a song?" It sure is pal, and you can be rest assured that they'll be much more song lifting in this film. You see, while this film takes place in the 19th century, every song in it is from the 20th, ranging from The Beatles to Madonna to F#@$ING NIRVANA.

I'm sure the spirit of Kurt Cobain is honored to have his fine work used to provide a beat for eccentric clowns to cancan dance to.

The finest dancer in all of Moulin Rouge is Satine (Kidman), whom aspires to become a real actress, and hatches a plan to seduce the Duke of Worcester to do so. She mistakenly takes the English poet as the Duke, and falls in love with him, unbeknownst to her that he is not the Duke.

When the Duke finally does arrive, she realizes her grave error and when the Duke sees her with the poet, "all hell breaks loose," that is, until the poet and his cohorts fool the Duke into thinking that they were merely rehearsing a play that they're performing at the Moulin Rouge, and after a horrible dance number and more confusion, the poet becomes the head writer of the new play at the Moulin Rouge.

After some more crap, Satine falls in love with the poet knowing full well who he is. The Duke agrees to financially back this play and turn the Moulin Rouge into a real theater, but in doing so he needs the deed to the Moulin Rouge as well as Satine's contract. The owner hands them over.

The Duke becomes infatuated with Satine, and doesn't take kindly to how often she is with the poet "rehearsing" the play. A bunch of convoluted CRAP happens and then Saltine must choose between love or success. Oh yes! She has a mysterious illness befalling her too!

Don't get caught up in all the cliches junior, otherwise you might miss the "amazing" dance number set to "Like A Virgin." Oh man. Ewan McGregor has come a long way since Trainspotting, too bad it's a long way down. I don't know how I could show my face at the premiere if I had starred in something like this. How could I sit in a room full of people watching me on the screen hop up and down to Smells Like Teen Spirit and not red as fire?

Needless to say, this film is terrible. If you thought musicals didn't make sense before, with people breaking into song about how they're car is "greased lightning" and how they're sweet transvestites from transexual Transylvania, then you'll really be taken for a trip whenever green fairies pop out of liquor bottles, divide themselves, sing "The Hills are Alive," and then suck Bohemian play troupes into swirling vortexes that lead into a night club.

You'll be blown away by people floating on clouds and flying through the air with the power of LOVE! In all seriousness, this film is nothing but a bloated musical video- seriously. There's not a moment without some flashy substance going on with music in the background. If you're going to make a music video over an hour long, at least make it a GOOD one, like an hour long version of Thriller.