Moulin Rouge!

Toulouse-Lautrec:
I got it, I got it. Christian.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be love loved in return.

Zidler:
I am the evil maharajah.

Satine:
Oh Harold, no one could play him like you could.

Zidler:
No one's going to.

Zidler:
Send Christian away. Only you can save him.

The Duke:
I don't like this ending...

Zidler:
Don't like the ending, my dear Duke?

The Duke:
Why should the cortesan chose the penniless sitar player over the maharajah who is offering her a lifetime of security, that's real love. Once the sitar player has satisfied his lust he will leave her with nothing. I suggest that the cortesean chose the maharajah.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
But, but tell me, that ending does not uphold the Bohemian ideals of truth, beauty, freedom, and -

The Duke:
I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR REDICULOUS DOPER! WHY SHOULDN'T THE CORTESAN CHOSE THE MAHARAJAH?

Christian:
BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T LOVE YOU!... Him... Hi-him, she doesn't love... she doesn't love him...

The Duke:
Oh I see... Monsieur Zidler, the play will be rewritten with the cortesan chosing the maharajah and without the lovers' secret song. It will be rehearsed in the morning, ready for the openning tomorrow night...

Zidler:
But, my dear Duke, that will be quite impossible

Satine:
Harold, the Duke is being treated appallingly. These silly writers let their imaginations run away with themselves. Why don't you and I have a little supper, and then we can tell Monsieur Zidler how we would like the story to end...

Satine:
I don't need you anymore! All my life you made believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me. He loves me! He loves me, Harold. And that is worth everything! We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge!

Satine:
What's his type? Wilting flower? Bright and bubbly? Or smoldering temptress?

Zidler:
I'd say... smoldering temptress.

Nini Legs-In-The-Air:
Don't worry Shakespeare, you'll get your ending. Once the Duke gets his end-in.

The Duke:
And in the end, should someone die?

Satine:
Tell our story Christian, that way I'll-I'll always be with you.

The Duke:
I don't like this ending.

Christian:
I've come to pay my bill.

Christian:
Where were you last night?

Satine:
I told you... I was sick.

Christian:
You don't have to lie to me.

Satine:
We have to end it. Everybody knows. Harold knows. Sooner or later the duke will find out.

Zidler:
The Duke holds the deeds to the Moulin Rouge, he spending a fortune on you, he's giving you a beautiful new dressing room, he wants to make you a star, and YOU ARE DALYING WITH THE WRITER!

Satine:
Harold, that's ridic...

Zidler:
I SAW YOU TOGETHER.

Satine:
It's nothing. It's just infatuation... it's nothing.

Zidler:
And the infatuation will end. Go to the boy; tell him it's over, and the Duke expecting you at the hour eight.

Christian:
Can't fall in love? But a life without love, that's terrible.

Christian:
It's a little bit funny.

Satine:
What?

Christian:
This feeling inside. I'm not one of those who can easily hide. Is this ok? Is this what you want?

Satine:
Ah, poetry. Yes, this it what I want naughty words.

Christian:
I don't have much money but boy if I did, I'd buy a big house where we both could live. If I were a sculptor, but then again, no. Or a man who makes potions a traveling show. I know it's not much...

Satine:
Oh Naughty, don't stop, don't stop.

Christian:
But it's the best I can do.

Christian:
My gift is my song. And this one's for you. And You Can Tell Everybody That this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it's done. I hope u don't mind I hope You don't mind That I put down in words... How Wonderful Life is Now you're in the world

Toulouse-Lautrec:
Christian, you may see me only as a drunken, vice-ridden gnome whose friends are just pimps and girls from the brothels. But I know about art and love, if only because I long for it with every fiber of my being.

Christian:
Tell me the truth.

Satine:
The truth? The truth is that I am the Hindu courtesan... and I choose the maharajah.

Argentinean:
Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself. It always ends bad.

Zidler:
Satine, hurt him. Hurt him, to save him.

Zidler:
We're creatures of the underworld. We can't afford to love.

Argentinean:
We have a dance in the brothels of Buenos Aires. It tells the story of the prostitute and a man who falls in love with her. First, there is desire. Then, passion. Then, suspicion. Jealousy. Anger. Betrayal. When love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust. Without trust, there can be no love. Jealousy, yes, jealousy will drive you mad.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
Oh no, I forgot my line.

Zidler:
You know it is. The show must go on. And now my bride it is time to raise your voice to the heavens and say your wedding vows.

Christian:
The Moulin Rouge. A night club, a dance hall and a bordello. Ruled over by Harold Zidler. A kingdom of night time pleasures. Where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld. The most beautiful of these was the one I loved. Satine. A courtesan. She sold her love to men. They called her the 'Sparkeling Diamond', and she was the star... of the Moulin rouge. The woman I loved is... dead.

Zidler:
She said you make her feel "like a virgin."

The Duke:
Virgin?

Zidler:
You know, touched for the very first time.

Christian:
I was made for lovin' you, baby, you were made for lovin' me.

Satine:
The only way of lovin' me, baby, is to pay a lovely fee.

Satine:
I can't believe it. I'm in love. I'm in love with a young, handsome, talented duke.

Christian:
Duke?

Satine:
Not that the title's important, of course.

Christian:
I'm not a duke.

Satine:
Not a duke?

Christian:
I'm a writer.

Satine:
A writer?

Satine:
You're going to be bad for business. I can tell.

The Duke:
Why can't the courtesan marry the maharaja?

Christian:
Because she doesn't love you.

Satine:
A little supper? Maybe some champagne?

Christian:
I'd rather, um, just get it over and done with.

Satine:
Hmph. Oh. Very well. Then why don't you come down here and let's get it over and done with.

Christian:
I prefer to do it standing.

Satine:
Oh.

Christian:
You don't have to stand, I mean. It's sometimes that... It's quite long and I'd like you to be comfortable. It's quite modern what I do and it may feel a little strange at first, but I think, if you're open, then you might enjoy it.

Satine:
I'm sure I will...

Satine:
The French are glad to die for love. They delight in fighting duels. But I prefer a man who lives... and gives expensive... jewels.

Zidler:
She is mine.

The Duke:
She is mine.

Zidler:
Outside it may be raining, but in here it's entertaining.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
Things aren't always as they seem.

Christian:
Things are exactly the way they seem.

Christian:
Then I'll write a song and we'll put it in the show and whenever you sing it or hear it. Or whistle or hum it then you'll know. It'll mean that we love one another.

The Duke:
I'm not a jealous man, I just don't like people touching my things.

Zidler:
'Cause we can cancan. Yes we can cancan.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
Unbewievable. Stwaight to the ewephant.

The Green Fairy:
I'm the Green Fairy... The hills are alive, with The Sound Of Music.

Argentinean:
The Hills are alive with the sound of music? I love it.

Zidler:
A magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan, bedazzlement, a sensual ravishment. It will be: Spectacular Spectacular.

The Duke:
...a little frog

Nini Legs-In-The-Air:
This ending's silly. Why would the courtesan go for the penniless writer? Whoops. I mean sitar player.

Satine:
The difference between you and I is that you can leave anytime you choose. But this is my home.

Zidler:
Outside things may be tragic, but in here we feel its magic.

Zidler:
Everything's going so well.

The Duke:
You expect me to believe that scantily clad, in the arms of another man, in the middle of the night, inside an elephant you were rehearsing for a play?

Zidler:
Remember, a real show, in a real theater, with a real audience. And you'll be...

Satine:
A real actress.

The Duke:
Generally I like it.

Christian:
Wait. No, please wait. Before, when we were... when you thought I was the Duke, you said that you loved me, a- and I wondered if...

Satine:
It was just an act?

Christian:
Yes.

Satine:
Of course.

Christian:
Oh. It just felt real.

Satine:
Christian, I'm a courtesan. I'm paid to make men believe what they want to believe.

Argentinean:
It's like; one is a Duke, and the other...

The Duke:
why shouldn't the courtesan go for the maharajah?

Christian:
Because she doesn't love you. Him... hi... him... sh... she doesn't love... him...

Satine:
Harold, the poor Duke is being treated appallingly. These silly writers let their imaginations run away with them.

Satine:
Now why don't you and I have a little supper. And then afterwards, we can let Monsieur Zidler know how we would prefer the story to end.

Argentinean:
The boy has talent.

Argentinean:
Nothing funny, I just like talent.

Satine:
We'll going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge.

Christian:
Luckily, right at that moment and unconscious Argentinean fell through my roof.

Zidler:
...And you're dallying with the writer.

Satine:
Oh, Harold, don't be ridicul...

Zidler:
I saw you together.

Satine:
It's nothing. It's just an infatuation. It's... it's nothing.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
How do you do? My name is Henri Marie Raymond Toulouse-Lautrec Montfa.

Christian:
What?

Toulouse-Lautrec:
I'm terribly sorry about all this. We're just upstairs rehearsing a play.

Christian:
What?

Christian:
We were off to the Moulin Rouge and I was to perform my poetry for Satine.

Satine:
Please tell me you're not one of Toulouse's oh so talented, charmingly bohemian, tragically impoverished writers?

[As Satine is being carried to her dressing room, having passed out.]

Nini:
Looks like the Duke won't be getting his money's worth tonight.

Dancer:
Don't be unkind, Nini!

[They both giggle]

Zidler:
SHE'S CONFESSING!

The Duke:
Confessing?! What kind of imbecile do you take me for, Zidler?!

Zidler:
She suddenly had a terrible desire...to go to a priest and...confess her sins.

Zidler:
I AM THE EVIL MAHARAJAH! YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE!

Satine:
Oh Harold, no one could play him like you could!

Zidler:
No one's going to.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
Things aren’t always the way they seem.

Christian:
Things are exactly the way they seem.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
Christian, you may see me only as a drunken, vice-ridden gnome whose friends are just pimps and girls from the brothels. But I know what love is, only because I long for it with every fiber of my being. She loves you, I know it, I know she loves you.

Christian:
Go away, Toulouse. Leave me alone. [Toulouse-Lautrec cringes but does not leave] Go. Away. [Toulouse-Lautrec still looks at Christian] GO AWAY!!!!!!!! [wordlessly, Toulouse-Lautrec leaves]

Christian:
[narrating] I wanted to shut out what Toulouse had said, but he had filled me with doubt and there was only one way to be sure. I had to know. So I returned to the Moulin Rouge one last time. [Christian enters the Moulin Rouge and the show begins]

Zidler:
SHEEEEEEEEEEE'S MINE!

Zidler:
[as the evil Maharajah waiting for the Courtesan] Open the door!

Christian:
[as the penniless sitar player pleading to the Courtesan] TELL ME YOU DON'T LOVE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Christian:
I first came to Paris one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, Harold Zidler or Satine. The world had been swept up in the Bohemian revolution and I had traveled from London to be a part of it. On a hill near Paris, was the village of Montmartre. It was not what my father had said. But the center of the Bohemian world. Musicians, painters, writers. They were known as the children of the revolution. Yes! I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom and at which I believed above all things, love. But there was only one problem.....I'd never been in love! Fortunately, at that moment, an unconscious Argentinian fell through my roof. He was quickly joined by a dwarf dressed as a nun.

Christian:
The Hills are alive, with the sound of music. With songs they have sung for a thousand years

Christian:
Silly of me, to think y-you could fall in love with someone like me.

Christian:
Above all things I believe in love. Love is like oxygen- love is a many splendored thing- love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!

Christian:
[singing] Come what may... come what may. I will love you, until my dying day!

Christian:
It's a little bit funny this feeling inside, I'm not one of those who can easily hide...

Christian:
[singing] Why does my heart cry? Feelings I can't fight. You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me. And please, believe me when I say I love you.

Christian:
This woman is yours now. I've paid my whore. I owe you nothing. And you're nothing to me. (scuffles to hold back tears) Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love.

Christian:
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And then, one not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter, I sat down, and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever. The End.

Satine:
Christian, I'm a courtesan. I'm paid to make men believe what they want to believe.

Satine:
[singing] Love is just a game.

Satine:
I couldn't. I saw you there and I felt differently and the Duke he saw... Christian I love you. I don't want to pretend anymore. I didn't want to lie and he knows, he knows.

Satine:
Duke! Don’t you toy with my emotions! [fake sobs] You must know the effect you have on women.

Satine:
[singing] If I should die... this very moment.. I wouldn't fear. I've never known completeness like being here, wrapped in the warmth of you, loving every breath of you...

Harold Zidler:
The Moulin... Rouge!!!!!

Harold Zidler:
The Duke holds the deeds to the Moulin Rouge. He's spending a fortune on you. He's giving you a beautiful new dressing room. He wants to make you a star, and you are dallying with the writer!

Harold Zidler:
The show must go on.

Harold Zidler:
She says it feels so good, inside, when you hold her, and touch her; it makes her feel like a ... virgin.

Harold Zidler:
A magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan bedazzlement, a sensual ravishment. It will be: Spectacular Spectacular. No words in the vernacular can describe this great event. You'll be dumb with wonderment. Returns are fixed at 10%. You must admit that's excellent. And on top of your fee, you'll be involved artistically.

Harold Zidler:
My little sparrow is dying. She mustn't know, Marie.

Harold Zidler:
Welcome, to the Moulin Rouge!

Harold Zidler:
Invest? Invest! Oh yes, well, invest! You can hardly blame me for trying to hide, uh, Christian away.

The Duke:
Why would the courtesan choose the penniless sitar player over the maharajah, who is offering a lifetime of security? That's real love. Once the sitar player has satisfied his lust, he will leave the courtesan with nothing.

The Duke:
I forgot my hat. [seeing Satine passed out with Christian on the bed] Foul play?!

The Duke:
I don't care about your ridiculous dogma!

The Duke:
You made me believe that you loved me.

The Duke:
It's the boy, he has bewitched with her the words. Tell her that the show will end my way and she will come to me when the curtain falls...or I'll have the boy killed.

The Duke:
Look, my dear! A little frog!

The Duke:
Let Zidler keep his fairy tale ending.

The Duke:
It's a little bit funny—this feeling inside.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
How do you do? My name is Henri Marie Raymond Toulouse-Lautrec Monfa.

Toulouse-Lautrec:
Killed. Killed? Killed! I must warn him!

Toulouse-Lautrec:
Clean yourself off you bourgeois pig! [snorts]

Toulouse-Lautrec:
He's got a huge talent! [looking at Satine and Christian through the window]

The Narcoleptic Argentinean:
All right! No problems! Go back to work!

The Narcoleptic Argentinean:
The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies! [falls back asleep]

The Narcoleptic Argentinean:
[to a dancer] You are a beautiful woman. [whispers] I love sex.