Let the music play

>> Moulin Rouge is a better soundtrack than a movie

by MATTHEW HAYS

Who can solve the mystery of the dead (or is it just dormant?) genre of the movie musical? Critics have argued younger viewers simply don't go for the old-fashioned hokiness of people singing to one another about love; that folks generally don't like to suspend their disbelief for a musical number in the middle of a movie. Contemporary movies, goes the argument, have become too rooted in a realism that doesn't allow for musicals.

The odd thing about this argument, of course, is that young people lap up a musical-type aesthetic by the truckload on MTV. Meanwhile, virtually every major director, from Francis Ford Coppola to Martin Scorsese to Woody Allen to Kenneth Branagh, has tried, and, for the most part failed, to resurrect the musical. With the possible exception of Lars von Trier's Dancer in the Dark--which was done on a small budget outside of the studio system--the last commercially successful musical was '78's Grease.

If old-fashioned musicals are dead, who would be able to marry MTV's music-video slickness with the big screen? With unusual, pseudoexperimental features like Strictly Ballroom and William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet on his CV, Aussie Baz Luhrmann looks like the director who might just be able to do the trick.

And here's the painful part: he almost does it with Moulin Rouge. Not quite, but almost. There are so many great things about this movie, from its stunning set and costume design to its sprawling shots of a computer-generated, retro-fitted Paris, to the boffo casting of Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor. (They can sing! They can dance!) And Luhrmann has taken great care in his soundtrack, overseeing its production. There are hilarious covers here, in particular a stuffy, all-male take on "Like a Virgin," Madonna's trademark hit. (Yeah, it does seem like only a queer could come up with this sort of thing--though happily married to a woman, Luhrmann did intimate in interviews at Cannes that he swings both ways.) Rufus Wainwright chimes in, as does Beck (doing a sublime cover of "Diamond Dogs") and the man (Bowie) himself.

But Luhrmann, a director and associate producer on the film, clearly got carried away with all the bells and whistles involved in a big-budget musical (Fox sunk $50 million U.S. into this). Yes, go overboard stylistically (love that Bollywood number, for instance), but the schmaltz should have been taken down a notch and Luhrmann should have heeded a lesson from Woody himself. That director rarely makes a comedy over 90 minutes--keep them laughing, and leave the audience wanting more, rather than looking at their watches.

And Moulin Rouge overstays its welcome. The film is beautiful to look at, raunchy yet still sweet in its innocent love-will-conquer-all message, and unapologetically silly, like an old Monkees episode.

But Luhrmann should have reminded himself that he's walking a fine line with this genre, one that can easily be stepped over. I wanted to love this film, believe you me--I've loved musicals from childhood, from Astaire and Rogers to Streisand--but Moulin Rouge didn't win over my undying affections.

Moulin Rouge opens Friday, June 1