Performance Review
I thoroughly enjoyed Baz Luhrmann's movie, Moulin Rouge, and believe it was an astounding cinematic achievement. The film sparked a personal interest in the actual establishment, and so I was very excited when I got the opportunity to visit the real Moulin Rouge during a trip to Paris. I had hoped that I would be thoroughly entertained by the production, but I really had no idea what to expect, and ended up leaving the establishment feeling disappointed by the entire experience. I can only hope that my narrative will help to inform fellow fans of the reality of the Moulin Rouge as it is run today...
The Moulin Rouge. The name instantly brings to
mind imaginings of grandeur and performances by can can girls on the Parisian stage. There
is now also an added connection of the movie, which has bought increased popularity to the
real establishment, with tourists flocking to Paris to see the show for themselves. I was
one of those tourists, swept up in the ideals of it all. And my story comes as a warning
to those who wish to follow in my footsteps and do the same.
I had arrived in Paris on Friday morning, and had spent every minute thereafter exploring
some of the amazing sights that the city has to offer (click here to read about my
Parisian adventures). I was thoroughly enjoying myself in Paris, but knew that the real
treat was still to come. My two friends and I had pre-booked tickets for a Saturday night
performance of a show called Feerie, the latest offering from the Moulin Rouge
establishment. I was extremely excited about attending the performance, and I couldn't
wait to see if it lived up to its glamorous reputation. I was also obviously curious to
see just how similar/different it was to how it was depicted in the movie. While I knew
that it was bound to be nothing like it, I couldn't help but wonder what tiny similarities
I might discover as I sat back to watch the show.
The dress code had been stated on our tickets as 'suit and tie', and so my friends and I
got all dressed up, talking excitedly in our hotel room as we tried to imagine what the
night would bring. We posed for photographs on our hotel balcony, and then set off to the
nearest tube station to head for Pigalle and the Moulin Rouge.
When we arrived at the establishment, I stopped
and stared at the the red windmill lit up against the night sky. I stood there for a few
minutes, gazing at the exterior of the Moulin Rouge, my mouth open in wonderment. I was
finally here, and I was finally going to see experience the delights of the real Moulin
Rouge. After taking some photos, my friends and I made out way through the doors and into
the main foyer...
The first thing I noticed was the colour red, and realised that this was the colour of the
carpet and walls. The next thing I noticed was a fantastic gift shop on my left, its glass
cases filled with assorted souvenirs. I looked up at the walls and saw a Toulouse Lautrec
painting and stepped forward to take a closer look. However, I was stopped in my tracks by
a French man in a black suit who quickly ushered us towards the reception desk. I frowned
and exclaimed that I wanted to check out the souvenir shop, but the man said no. He was in
a hurry and quickly checked our names on his list. We were then ushered inside with great
speed, which was a little off putting, as we were still over half-an-hour early for the
show.
As we entered the performance hall, I realised that half-an-hour early was not nearly
early enough. I looked around in surprise as I realised the room was absolutely heaving
with people - it was completely full. I knew that there was an option of having dinner
before the show, and realised that the vast majority of these people must have taken up
this option and arrived early for a meal. Everyone was eating and drinking in large
groups, and I couldn't help feeling a bit out of place. However, these feelings were
quickly put aside as a French waiter briskly lead us through the crowd towards the far end
of the stage...
My friends and I looked at each other in bewilderment as we were lead to the far end of
the room. Just when we thought we'd stop, we'd be lead even further away from the stage.
We were not sure if there were reserved seats or not, but we'd been lead to believe that
we would get decent seats through booking early. We'd booked months in advance, and had
been assured by our travel agent that we would get excellent seats, despite whether we
chose to purchase the meal or show only option.
The waiter finally stopped at a tiny table right at the very end of the establishment. The
table had not even been set up, and he actually had to go and retrieve us chairs from
elsewhere in the room. My friends and I stood there surveying the situation with panicked
frustration. We were situated at the very end of the stage, at the very front of the stage
and right beside a staff entry door. To top it all off, we were also stuck behind a huge
curtain! A warm-up band was playing on the stage, and we couldn't see any of them. When
the waiter returned with the chair, my friend pointed out our dire seating situation, and
the waiter replied that we shouldn't worry as the curtain would be pushed back when the
actual performance began.
The three of us squashed together along the wall and inspected the menu. I read something
about having to spend at least 96 Euros on drinks if we decided to buy any, and quickly
told my companions that we better just stick with the half bottle of champagne each that
was included in the ticket price. When the waiter returned and asked what we'd like to
drink, we requested this champagne, and he looked annoyed as he snatched away our menu and
went to retrieve our 'free' drinks. To make us feel even worse, when a couple arrived to
sit at the one and only spare table beside us, they were treated very nicely and given
priority, even though they'd arrived later than us! As my friends and I had been hurriedly
squeezed into the very end of the room, it quickly became apparent that there was not
enough room for two more people in our tiny alcove. We were already squashed together as
much as possible, so imagine our annoyance when the waiter gruffly instructed us to move
over even more! We were already as far over as we were willing to go, so we just moved our
chairs around a little as we struggled to retain a glimpse of the tiniest bit of stage.
We were in
the Moulin Rouge, and I really wanted to take a photograph. I already knew that cameras
were not allowed inside the establishment, but I snuck one in anyway, just in case. I
watched as some Asian people sitting in front of us took a couple of photos, and the flash
from their camera lit up the darkened room. I thought to myself, "go for it!"
and whipped out my own camera to sneak a photo of the seating area. I thought I'd got away
with it too, but a couple of minutes later I was confronted by an annoyed waiter. He
marched right up to me, pointed his finger in my face and said very sarcastically,
"No pictuuuuures!" I felt about 2 inches tall, especially since I'd already seen
other people doing the same thing and no one had confronted them. I grimly realised that
because we had not paid more money for the meal, we were probably regarded as unworthy
customers who were designated to be treated with less respect than everyone else.
An employee was working the room with her the
company's own camera and taking group photographs on each table. I watched as she slowly
moved towards our table, and decided that since this would be the only way my friends and
I could get a decent photo while inside the establishment, we would pay the fee, no matter
what the cost. Imagine our disappointment when the woman with the camera promptly
disappeared from the room. Annoyed, I put aside my reservations, stood up, and walked
through the room towards a waiter. I asked if we could please have our picture taken, and
he nodded briefly before shooing me back to my table. The woman appeared a few minutes
later and took our photo and, just as she'd finished, the lights went down and the
performance began.
As the music began to play, my friends and I became immediately concerned. We had been
promised that the curtain in front of us would go back once the performance began, and our
view of the stage would not be obscured. The curtain in front of us went back... to reveal
a huge column standing right in front of us, cutting off 90% of our view of the stage. We
were horrified. Performers came out on stage, and we could hardly see a thing. We had no
idea how many performers were on stage at any one time - the most we could see was about
three people dancing on each end of the stage. We couldn't see the back or middle of the
stage at all. We couldn't see any of the set design. We could only watch the performers
going in and out from behind the curtain in front of us once they'd finished their acts.
My friends and I quickly realised that we were destined not to enjoy the night's
entertainment. We tried to give the performance a chance - just listen to the music, watch
the reaction of the darkened crowd, and try and see what limited entertainment we could on
the stage itself. However, very soon we were sitting in our seats, staring across at each
other in total shock. We were not sure what to expect, but we were definitely expecting
something a little more classy than this.
There was nothing erotic about the female performers being topless. For the majority of
the performance, all the women were topless, while the men were fully clothed. The
costumes of both the male and female performers were constantly phallic, which I guess was
supposed to add an erotic 'edge' to the show? However, these were in such poor taste, they
only served to amuse us. There were round dome hats everywhere, and costumes with fluffy
pink extensions that resembled giant snakes. There were also scary looking clowns, and one
routine had two women sharing the same pair of oversized trousers and bumping into each
other the whole time. We all agreed that CM did a much better job in the movie, and that
the costume designers here definitely needed to learn a thing or two.
There was supposed to be a story to it all, but it was impossible to follow. There just
seemed to be no coherence to it all. The creators seemed intent on dazzling the audience
with a colourful spectacle, but with no relevance or meaning behind it.
What repulsed me most about the performance was the animal cruelty that I watched take
place onstage. The performers bought out Shetland ponies at one point, and had them
trotting around the stage on harnesses. But the most disturbing thing was the whole snake
routine. At one point in the supposed 'story', for some unknown reason, one of the female
performers dived into a huge water tank full of about half a dozen giant pythons. The
pythons were alive, but not threatening in the slightest. In fact, they were all huddled
up against the sides of the tank, as if frightened of what was about to happen. And they
had reason to be as, because the snakes refused to move, the woman suddenly grabbed one of
them and started trying to swim around with it in the water. She ended up using it like a
rope, thrashing it here and there and bending it around her body. I watched with sympathy
as the snake on our side of the tank curled up into an even tighter ball in the hope he
would not be molested in the same way!
Half way through the performance, a terrible comedian came on and performed a totally
uninspiring routine with a puppet. Throughout the show, we were also forced to listen to
solo numbers by Moulin Rouge dancers, who belted out cringe-worthy renditions of songs
such as I Will Survive. And later, there was an even more cringe-worthy 'audience
participation' time where a man with a microphone dragged unsuspecting tourists from the
front row up onstage to talk about themselves.
This was all actually part of the performance at the Moulin Rouge.
Where oh where were the can can dancers, I hear you ask?
After all, it is can can dancing that the Moulin Rouge is most famous for. And it is can
can dancing that my friends and I were expecting to see that night. So imagine our
surprise as we realised the show was coming to an end and we still hadn't seen any
can can dancing! However, at the very end of the show, the dancing finally began. The can
can dance routine we'd all been waiting for finally came and it lasted, quite literally,
for about two minutes.
The can can music began to play, we all knew what was coming, and Becky and I started
singing the song lyrics to The Pitch (Spectacular Spectacular) in time with the
familiar tune! We started clapping along with the audience, and began to enjoy ourselves
for the first time all night. Sure, we could only see about two can can dancers at the
very end of the stage, but at least we finally had some music we could enjoy! Overall, the
music throughout the night had been quite terrible, but now here was some can can music we
all knew and loved! However, after singing along with the chorus about 3 times, the
performance abruptly came to an end. And then the house lights came on. And that was that.
We felt absolutely cheated as we left the performance hall. As we began our long walk back
to the other side of the room, past where everyone had been sitting with full view of the
stage, I finally got the opportunity to take a quick glimpse of the entire stage for the
first time all night. But a quick glimpse is all I got, as the waiters ushered us out
hurriedly. I looked at my watch and it was 11:15pm. The show had begun around 9pm, and
there was another show that was supposed to have begun at 11pm! As we left the venue, I
looked at the huge line of people waiting outside for this performance, and I could see a
lot of annoyed faces on my way out. I wondered if the show ran late every night and, if
so, why would they continue to schedule the performances so close together? I concluded
that this was all yet another sign of the establishments lack of organisation.
Despite the
evening turning out to be such a let down, I couldn't resist the lure of the souvenir gift
shop after the performance. I decided I had to buy some official merchandise for the sake
of it, but not as a reminder of what it was really like at the real Moulin Rouge. Some of
the souvenirs actually contained information about the establishment from all those years
ago, back in the days when people like Satine and Christian would have experienced the
spectacle of the Moulin Rouge as it was meant to be. I decided to buy the souvenirs
to remind me of how the Moulin Rouge should be, not what it has so sadly become.
Conclusion:
I went to the Moulin Rouge with the intention of
fully enjoying whatever the establishment had to offer. I was open minded, and extremely
excited about the world-renown entertainment I was about to see. However, I left the venue
thoroughly disappointed by the entire experience. The staff were rude, and we were made to
feel inferior because we did not buy a meal to accompany the show. We were placed in the
absolute worst seats in the house, despite booking months in advance with the assurance
from our travel agent that we would get decent seats on the night. We obviously could not
possibly enjoy the show from behind a giant pillar, but what we did manage to see
contained very limited entertainment value. They obviously overbook the facility on a
frequent basis, as I'm sure that we were not the only unfortunate visitors who have been
forced to sit behind that pillar. I am forced to conclude that the show is blatantly aimed
at foreign tourists, and the establishment's primary concern is making money in whatever
way they can.
I recently watched watched a documentary called The Real Moulin Rouge, which
screened on New Years Eve 2002 here in Australia. It contained a behind the scenes look at
the weeks leading up to the launch of Feerie back in 2001, which is the show we
saw. I watched in dismay as the television program confirmed my general disregard for the
establishment as its run today. The female dancers come from all over the world to perform
at the Moulin Rouge and insist they are happy there. However, as the camera pans over
their faces in the rehearsal studio, you can see the despair. I was also not impressed by
the behaviour of the manager, whose name I have forgotten but whose face still lingers in
my mind. The male manager is shown directing performers on the stage with a frown on his
face, becoming frequently annoyed when things don't work out. He seemed like a most
disagreeable man. This was confirmed in a statement by his female assistant. She said that
very there are very few female workers involved in managing the production, and she feels
that the manager even despises her presence sometimes. She states that, deep down, she
really thinks that the manager of the Moulin Rouge feels that women only belong in the
kitchen.
It is a great shame that the Moulin Rouge has become such a blatant tourist trap. It used
to have so much glamour, so much excitement. It used to be a legendary entertainment
venue. Now I fear it is only because of this past reputation that the Moulin Rouge
continues to thrive as a successful business today. I would not recommend the
establishment to anyone, and will always feel a sense of sadness for what today's Moulin
Rouge has become. The magic has gone. All that remains is an empty shell that relies on a
name that is clearly vulnerable to exploitation, and relentlessly poaches on the naive
curiosity of tourists from across the globe.
