I didn’t immediately understand why I didn’t like the movie; in fact, it’s just not for me. I’m not that bright, you know (yes, you do know, deep down inside of you) and I need a movie to work on a literal level, have a story and characters, and inspire some kind of emotions. Funny that, just as I’m writing this, 8 Femmes begins on TV, while I’m listening to the Once More With Feeling soundtrack. Example, counter-example: I hated François Ozon’s movie for exactly the same reason.

It’s all the more of a disapointment as Romeo+Juliet is among my favorite movies of all time, and its likeness to Moulin Rouge is obvious: the same visual sophistication (only more elaborate in the latter), the same place granted to music (obviously more so with the musical), and the great choice and direction of actors. But what’s the point of all that (and I forgot the magnificent sets) if you don’t bother writing a decent script? I’ve always thought, and always will, that cinema is the art of make believe. And what are we supposed to believe in, there? Actually the story is not that uninteresting—it’s just classic romance stuff, can be as good as it can be bad—but Luhrmann doesn’t do anything to try and pull us inside: except for a couple of key scenes, it’s all about showing off, not getting any kind of interest in the characters. The way the movie is built, all in flash-backs and with the ending given out in the first ten minutes, is exemplary: nobody cares about the story. Well, it’s not true: I care. That is, I wish I cared.