Sunday, August 4, 2019

Moulin Rouge!



     It's funny that a show about bohemians in 1899 Paris is the most lavish new musical on Broadway, produced for a whopping  $28 million.  The Al Hirschfeld Theatre is ablaze with color -- red! -- neon lights, golden pillars, a giant blue elephant and a windmill for Moulin Rouge!, the theatrical version of Baz Luhrmann's 2001 cult film. I've never seen anything like the number of people crowding the front of the house to snap photo after photo before the show began.  The curtain didn't need to rise for the entertainment to begin.  Derek McLane's nightclub set sees to to that.

    For the most part, the spectacle continues.  I loved the songs.  In the playful spirit of the movie, songs or snippets of them -- more than 70 -- from the 1960s to the present are woven throughout.  The anachronism of hearing a struggling young composer in 19th century Montmartre breaking into "The hills are alive . . ." is a hoot.

     Alex Timbers directs this big bustling show that is one of the hottest tickets in town.  Sonya Tayeh provides the lively choreography, and musical supervision, orchestrations, arrangements and additional lyrics are by Justin Levine. Those vibrant, sensuous costumes -- more than 200 corsets, bustiers, skimpy lingerie, cancan dresses and lush gowns -- are courtesy of Catherine Zuber and the bright lighting -- red! -- is by Justin Townsend.

     All of this razzle-dazzle wasn't enough to keep the show from dragging for me, though.  The oft-told story -- book by John Logan -- doesn’t sustain for 2 hours and 35 minutes. Christian, a young composer nicely played by Aaron Tveit, comes to the Left Bank from Lima, Ohio, to bask in the artistic community and get his show produced.  He falls in love with a dying cabaret courtesan, Satine, played without much sizzle by Karen Olivo.  Satine is the star of the Moulin Rouge.  Or at least she's the onstage star.  The real star is the owner, Harold, delightfully played by Danny Burstein (in photo).  Throw in the Duke of Monroth (Tam Mutu) who sinisterly make it clear he owns both Satine and the nightclub and you can pretty much anticipate what will happen.

     It's the music, credited to 161 writers from Rodgers and Hammerstein to Lady Gaga, and the dancing that carry the evening. With all those songs, what was the one that played in my head walking home, and is still playing in my head days later?  "Lady Marmalade" -- "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir."  Luckily I've always loved it.

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