Stage/Theatre

What: Moulin Rouge! The Musical
Where: CAA Ed Mirvish Theatre, 244 Victoria St.
When: Now, until Sun., Jan. 12
Highlight: Justin Townsend’s jaw-dropping lighting design
Rating: NNN (out of 5)
Why you should go: To have a few good chuckles at the playfully anachronistic pop music soundtrack

BAZ LUHRMANN’S 2001 film Moulin Rouge! is easily one of the most elegant marriages of cinematic and theatrical aesthetics. Luhrmann dances the can-can on a tightrope that several of his peers (Joe Wright and Tom Hooper come to mind) have either struggled to traverse or have completely tripped over. Part of that success may be due to it being among the rare movie musicals not originating as a beloved stage show prior to making its leap to the silver screen. It’s able to be about theatre and imbue theatre’s essence without facing the challenges of adapting a precursor that was conceived for the stage as its medium of choice.

So, what happens when you take something like that and re-imagine it for the stage? What feels like a natural fit unfortunately stumbles against those pesky adaptational challenges.

Set at its eponymous cabaret venue in late 19th-century Paris, Moulin Rouge! The Musical follows Christian (played by the appropriately named Christian Douglas), an aspiring songwriter who makes a splash among the bohemian subculture thanks to his uncanny ability to anticipate some of Oscar Hammerstein’s and Bernie Taupin’s best lyrics. He leverages this superhuman anachrony to co-author a new musical with Toulouse-Lautrec (a surprisingly tall Nick Rashad Burroughs) and to romance the consumption-afflicted star performer Satine (Arianna Rosario). This all coincides with Satine being tragically purchased as arm candy by a sinister Duke (Andrew Brewer), who acquires a controlling financial stake in the Moulin Rouge for the sole purpose of keeping her under his thumb.

Though there’s plenty of fun to be had, this adaptation disappoints in several key respects, mostly attributable to the paper-thin book by John Logan — who, as the author of the Mark Rothko bio-drama, Red, has already written a much better play about crimson-hued artworlds. As much as the film has been lauded for its inventive use of pop music needle drops, Logan empties his piggybank into this musical’s jukebox, adjusting for 23 years’ worth of inflation with diminishing returns. The soundtrack is overstuffed with medley after medley of familiar earworms, winning cheap chuckles from the audience purely from the dopamine hit of brute recognition.

Luckily, the cast is quite strong, even if the material feels a bit like going to karaoke with your most serious Broadway-obsessed friends. Douglas and Rosario sing their A-games while selling the chemistry between our leading lovers, whose recurring duet of Your Song consistently gave me chills. Burroughs portrays Toulouse-Lautrec with endearing charisma and a distinctive vocal timbre while Robert Petkoff steals many scenes as Harold Zidler, the cabaret’s ostentatious proprietor and emcee. Special shoutouts must also be given to the large ensemble of background dancers, who kick high and take names in their execution of Sonya Tayeh’s impressive choreography.

And naturally, in a show that’s quintessentially about spectacle, it’s only fitting that the lavish design elements should take centre stage. The belle of the ball is undeniably Justin Townsend’s jaw-dropping lighting scheme, showering the stage in incandescent splendours with just the right amount of neon accoutrements. Its most shining achievement is a scene of absinthe-fuelled bacchanalia, wherein a hard shift toward green dazzles with pitch-perfect cues and brilliantly placed units. Derek McLane’s set makes excellent use of opulent red velvet drapery, perfectly paired with Catherine Zuber’s costumes for the sparkly showgirls and dapper dandies.

However, what’s glaringly missing is the film’s explosively exuberant atmosphere, which is most apparent in the scenes set on the actual Moulin Rouge stage. Whereas the film rapidly intercuts between the performers and the crowd going wild, that in-world audience is never made present on stage, thus casting the real-life audience in the CAA Ed Mirvish to meekly fill that role. But contemporary Torontonian spectators aren’t nearly as raucous as their fin-de-siècle Parisian forebearers. As we respectfully remain in our seats and hold our applause until the intervals between numbers, we find ourselves partly responsible for killing the mood. While those prone to vertigo and/or sensory overload might appreciate the stable viewing position in lieu of Luhrmann’s frenetic camerawork and editing, something magical is irrevocably lost. For anyone looking to have a truly theatrical experience, I’d recommend revisiting the movie.