Macgrrrrrrrrregor

Hmmm. Moulin Rouge. Saw it this arvo. What to think? That movie is a trip. Baz Lurhman is one crazy bastard. I still can't decide if I liked the movie or not. It's a very exhausting two and a bit hours.

The first twenty minutes were hellish, with much of the trademark frantic zooming and some insane dance numbers. But then Nicole arrives looking simply delicious, and her voice is tolerable enough. Ewan can belt out a tune very nicely, but he could sing like Tiny Tim and he'd still butter my muffin.

Critics have said the film is all style and substance, but for awhile the wild colours and lavish sets assault you so much that you don't notice the crummy dialogue and absence of plot. Most songs are tedious and dripping with fromage - they bastardise everything from Nirvana to The Police to The Beatles to Air Supply. But everytime Baz pulled something so bloody irritating I'd be heading for the exit, there'd be an amusing scene that'd make me think, ahh, it ain't so bad. Loved it, hated it, loved it, hated it. So tiring. Must admit though, the love story sucked me in. I can't resist that kind of rot. Or perhaps it was just Ewan's baby blues melting me into my seat. Swoon.

It doesn't really matter if you like the movie or not, just going for the ride is a hoot. One thing you have to say about ol Bazza, good or bad, he gets a response out of you. I saw a trailer for Planet Of The Apes today, and I can't imagine I'd have any response to that except Planet Of The Steaming Pile Of Turds. It's impossible to sit through one of Baz's films and not feel something, be it joy or loathing. After watching Strictly Ballroom I remember being hyper, my friends and I dancing down the street, after Romeo and Juliet I... hmm... wanted to kneecap Leonardo Di Caprio? And after this one, I just felt like singing and wearing corsets and draping myself in diamonds. And shagging Ewan McGregor.