Godless Revolutions

Unpublished


One of the most prominent words spoken to the main character of Moulin Rouge is that he is the voice of the children of the revolution, the bohemian revolution, that is. The character, Christian, defied his father’s belligerent objection to venture out as a writer into the bohemian quarters of Montmartre in Paris, to search for love, freedom, truth and beauty. No mention at all of God, but even the distraught father cannot make that specific qualification, despite his intention.

At the very beginning, Christian establishes that he’s writing in the present, while the musical is his past. These first scenes are in dingy black and white, cutting through the narrow and crooked streets of Montmartre, where wrinkled prostitutes and hardened priests are part of the population. This is very different from the rest of the movie, which is in hyper-saturated colors, and lush settings, as though trying very hard to gloss over reality. Moulin Rouge’s fast editing and the spurious jumps from one scene to another, and constant borrowing from this pop song and from that musical, are the methods for its deflection from its shortcomings. Like the glossy costumes, it is what draws the viewer in, a little like the vortex in a whirlpool.

If current musicals are metaphors for the slow degeneration of the craft, then Moulin Rouge descends all the way to Across the Universe - a musical that also aims for revolution, but gets mediocrity instead. Gone are the glitter and gold which try to redeem Moulin Rouge. And we’re left with milking the last chords of the classic Beatles songs, which can do nothing to revive the story.

The best of the musicals were once, both on stage and on film, exemplary attempts at entertainment with a life-affirming spirit, an ever-present, candid optimism, and genuine humor. Songs, lyrics, costumes, set designs and above all the story were an integrated whole, each affecting the other. Lyrics were closely tied to the musical composition, and dialogue sprung the lyrics into action, which was usually dance. Moulin Rouge breaks with that tradition. Understandably, it is trying out a tried strategy of experimentation and progress that is true to American musical theatre. From the minstrel and vaudeville shows to the final development of the modern musical, the musical theatre has always been in constant evolution.

But the failed strategy of Moulin Rouge is persistent simulacrum. By relentlessly borrowing songs from other sources – musicals, pop songs, and even operas - Moulin Rouge puts the audience constantly on edge. Each of these songs elicits different memories and associations from the musical itself. We are trapped between the story of the musical and the meaning of those songs. In an especially telling moment, Christian talks about love through a series of pop song hits , as though he cannot summon the real emotion. Even the dance sequences start off as interesting numbers until they get truncated and lost in the fast editing from all angles. The lush costumes and extravagant scenery try to save the show , but finally, as though exhausted with all this make-believe, Moulin Rouge ends with the whimper that revolution inevitably leads to, and Christian is left in his dingy, black and white garret recounting his strange experience.

Across the Universe starts out with a clever idea where each section of the story attempts to fit in the next Beatles song. But the songs’ effort at unity are strained, and the choreography is unabashedly disparate – from Cirque du Soleil imitations, to Noh like masked atomic bomb spirits. Across the Universe violates almost every rule of integrity that the American musical established through years of trial and error. In the name of “revolution”, what predictably happens is a destruction of the old idea rather than a creation of a newer and better one. And a final skirmish with city cops to let a group of hippies sing on a roof-top, in the name of “love, love, love”, is the anticlimax to all this “revolution.”

The splendor, moral, optimism and integrity of the American musical has culminated with mediocrity. While Moulin Rouge initiated the descent, Across the Universe has completed it. But, there still might be a redeeming possibility. Despite the much referenced love (romantic and brotherly) in both the musicals, Christian’s name might be the hint at what they’re both missing. Revolutions without appropriate values end up stale and destructive at worst, and de-energizing at best. Perhaps what American musicals need to be looking for is the values that made the original scores so successful, both in the box office and in the reproductions that keep referencing them to this day.