Some are amazed at my staunch and unfailing love for Moulin Rouge, and are endlessly fascinated with my zeal and fervor. To them, now, I shall explain how the fates of two starcrossed lovers, (Myself, and, of course, the DVD) were united into one glistening body of passion.
It all began in the summer that high school was approaching, a dim and lazy summer, as I recall. My dear friends Jeanette and Jenine, who I must mention are identical twins, gave me a ring on my phone and suggested we see a movie together. I accepted with bountiful enthusiasm, and we set off toward the theatre. Upon arrival we discovered a horrific line, and the movie we had agreed upon seeing beforehand, some wretched Jennifer Lopez movie called Angel Eyes, promptly sold out. Moulin Rouge was also showing and, surprisedly, I was the voice to object most about viewing that particular show. Jeanette and Jenine were adamant, however, and I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the black bowels of the United Artists theatre. I sulkily sat down as the first strains of tuning violins sounded from the shadow of the screen.
There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy...... I rolled my eyes as the camera swept over a dirty, grimy, and miserable Monmarte. Boring, boring boring, and, to be honest, a bit creepy with the narcoleptic Argentinean. Then, a most miraculous Thing happened. The lights inside the Moulin Rouge dimmed, glittering specks began to rain from the ceiling, and a pair of smoky blue eyes flickered on the screen. The first husky notes of music floated away. The French are glad to die for love.... I was captivated. Like Christian, my eyes were wide and staring. The eyes of a disbeliever who is just starting to find an epiphany of truth.
I was swept in the blooming tides of a red ocean, in waves of betrayal, joy, despair, song, and love. And then another Thing occured, a Thing that almost snared and dragged away my undying commitment to Moulin Rouge for forever and eternity. Monsiuer Harold Zidler began to sing. And dance. To Like a Virgin.. I was horrified. I desperately sought to cover my eyes, but the sounds, oh the hideous sounds, still rang in my tender ears. I contemplated suicide. Then it was over, as suddenly as it had begun. But, to this day, I dutifully skip over that particular scene, my body transplated back into that theatre in that long-ago time, racked with convulsions of terror.
The movie ended as Christian clutched Satine in his arms, sobbing raggedly, her white dress spread amongst the rose petals in a living irony of love in its darkest beauty. The mill swung away in the graying dawn, and so did the final, hollow notes of the tragic tale.
The greatest thing.....you'll ever learn......is just to love......and be loved.......in return.........
The entire audience dumbly sat as the screen faded away into darkness, just as it had begun. Straggles of tears were heard and echoed coldly around the near silent room. We got up and walked away, our eyes squinting in the sudden light.
Moulin Rouge left theatres to be replaced with other movies, as did my thoughts. Christmas was rapidly approaching, and, with Christmas, the release of Moulin Rouge on DVD. I had told my father, most strongly, that I did not want Moulin Rouge and, instead desired Jurassic Park III. However, the entire time from Thanksgiving to Christmas, I teased my dad that I really DID want Moulin Rouge, oh, so badly, and would, in fact, be terribly disappointed if I didn't get it. Of course, in my heart, I knew that to recieve Moulin Rouge for Christmas was impossible, so when I ripped back the brightly covered paper on Christmas Morning and saw the red and yellow lights that dotted the cover of none other than Moulin Rouge, I was so utterly susprised that a gigantic grin covered my face for the entire duration of Cristmas. In pictures you can see my smiling like an idiot. I watched that DVD over twenty times from beginning to end, and it still sits proudly on top of my monitor with the letters MOULIN ROUGE in yellow bulbs displayed to whoever enters my room.
And so ends my story. A story about a movie, a story about Christmas (Almost) and a story about Me.
But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever.
The end.
It all began in the summer that high school was approaching, a dim and lazy summer, as I recall. My dear friends Jeanette and Jenine, who I must mention are identical twins, gave me a ring on my phone and suggested we see a movie together. I accepted with bountiful enthusiasm, and we set off toward the theatre. Upon arrival we discovered a horrific line, and the movie we had agreed upon seeing beforehand, some wretched Jennifer Lopez movie called Angel Eyes, promptly sold out. Moulin Rouge was also showing and, surprisedly, I was the voice to object most about viewing that particular show. Jeanette and Jenine were adamant, however, and I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the black bowels of the United Artists theatre. I sulkily sat down as the first strains of tuning violins sounded from the shadow of the screen.
There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy...... I rolled my eyes as the camera swept over a dirty, grimy, and miserable Monmarte. Boring, boring boring, and, to be honest, a bit creepy with the narcoleptic Argentinean. Then, a most miraculous Thing happened. The lights inside the Moulin Rouge dimmed, glittering specks began to rain from the ceiling, and a pair of smoky blue eyes flickered on the screen. The first husky notes of music floated away. The French are glad to die for love.... I was captivated. Like Christian, my eyes were wide and staring. The eyes of a disbeliever who is just starting to find an epiphany of truth.
I was swept in the blooming tides of a red ocean, in waves of betrayal, joy, despair, song, and love. And then another Thing occured, a Thing that almost snared and dragged away my undying commitment to Moulin Rouge for forever and eternity. Monsiuer Harold Zidler began to sing. And dance. To Like a Virgin.. I was horrified. I desperately sought to cover my eyes, but the sounds, oh the hideous sounds, still rang in my tender ears. I contemplated suicide. Then it was over, as suddenly as it had begun. But, to this day, I dutifully skip over that particular scene, my body transplated back into that theatre in that long-ago time, racked with convulsions of terror.
The movie ended as Christian clutched Satine in his arms, sobbing raggedly, her white dress spread amongst the rose petals in a living irony of love in its darkest beauty. The mill swung away in the graying dawn, and so did the final, hollow notes of the tragic tale.
The greatest thing.....you'll ever learn......is just to love......and be loved.......in return.........
The entire audience dumbly sat as the screen faded away into darkness, just as it had begun. Straggles of tears were heard and echoed coldly around the near silent room. We got up and walked away, our eyes squinting in the sudden light.
Moulin Rouge left theatres to be replaced with other movies, as did my thoughts. Christmas was rapidly approaching, and, with Christmas, the release of Moulin Rouge on DVD. I had told my father, most strongly, that I did not want Moulin Rouge and, instead desired Jurassic Park III. However, the entire time from Thanksgiving to Christmas, I teased my dad that I really DID want Moulin Rouge, oh, so badly, and would, in fact, be terribly disappointed if I didn't get it. Of course, in my heart, I knew that to recieve Moulin Rouge for Christmas was impossible, so when I ripped back the brightly covered paper on Christmas Morning and saw the red and yellow lights that dotted the cover of none other than Moulin Rouge, I was so utterly susprised that a gigantic grin covered my face for the entire duration of Cristmas. In pictures you can see my smiling like an idiot. I watched that DVD over twenty times from beginning to end, and it still sits proudly on top of my monitor with the letters MOULIN ROUGE in yellow bulbs displayed to whoever enters my room.
And so ends my story. A story about a movie, a story about Christmas (Almost) and a story about Me.
But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever.
The end.
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