French author Pierre La Mure penned his novel Moulin Rouge in 1950, a biographical piece on the French artist Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. While this book touched on Henri’s relationship with Marie Charlet, Pierre would go further into this with his play Monsieur Toulouse, a play that made that relationship its focus. A film was soon after produced that was so financially profitable that it opened it up for some litigation involving taxes and lead actor José Ferrer’s compensation, an astronomical 40% of the proceeds.
The film itself hasn’t aged particularly well over the last seventy-plus years. It’s long, slowly paced, and more than a little pretentious. It paints an inaccurate portrait of Henri that tries to get into the mind of the artist but ultimately holds us at arm’s length as we watch a man who sabotages his own life and latches on to insecurities to the point that no one can get too close to him for long, including us. The ending is supposed to induce an emotional response but it fails ultimately because we haven’t been given a reason to care thanks to the way Henri conducts himself. There is good stuff here, but it gets mired down in a film that struggles to connect with its audience.
The setting is 1890s Paris at the world-famous Moulin Rouge. There, crowds gather to watch the dancers perform and to down copious amounts of liquor. It is here that we are first introduced to Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (José Ferrer). He is first glimpsed sitting alone at a table while he sketches the dancers and drinks a bottle of cognac. Henri’s artistic ability is respected by the owner, Maurice Joyant (Lee Montague), who offers him free drinks in exchange for a promotional poster. Soon afterwards, as the Moulin Rouge closes for the night, it is revealed that Henri is 4-foot-6-inches in stature, the results of a childhood injury from a fall coupled with a genetic disorder from his parents being first cousins.
Henri is self-conscious about his height, which is what attracts him to Marie Charlet (Colette Marchand), a streetwalker he helps escape the police. Marie has no adverse response to his appearance, so he allows her to stay with him. Soon, he learns that poverty has made her both harsh and free from societal hypocrisy. But after she insults one of his paintings of her, he throws her out and drowns himself in alcohol. When he later tracks her down, she is drunk and uninterested in his apologies.
He finds inspiration for his next work, the poster for the Moulin Rouge, and pulls himself out of his alcoholism enough to complete it, which is well-liked despite being unconventional. Soon, popularity for his works comes along, and he has gained a bit of notoriety. But one of his paintings is considered too risqué, causing his father to denounce his art. Henri continues to paint the Parisian nightlife, though, rising in fame but gaining no friends. He starts seeing Myriamme Hyam (Suzanne Flon), but his own insecurities push her away when she confesses her love for him. In the end, his own alcoholism and obsessions lead to an accident that will bring about an end to his life, envisioning the figures from his own Moulin Rouge paintings dancing around the room before him.
This film evokes the time period well, celebrating the garishness of the Moulin Rouge as it most likely was. This is a far more realistic look at the place than what we got from Baz Luhrmann in his over-the-top jukebox musical fifty years later. The dancers are beautiful but not Hollywood glamorous, and the dancers’ antics betray behind-the-scenes tensions that may or may not be a part of the act. It’s humorous to watch the fighting amidst the dancing, and it’s one of the rare moments that has any real energy.
The rest of the film, in comparison, feels a bit lifeless. We are spending two hours watching a man descend into depression right in front of us, and there is little to no enjoyment in seeing any of that. This is a man who struggles to see his own self-worth and thus never has much of a chance for happiness. When he does find someone that can see past his own physical abnormality, he pushes them away by refusing to accept that they could actually love him. It’s frustrating to watch, and it goes on for far too long.
This is the kind of film that I refer to as being about miserable people being miserable. This can work if the subject of the story finds a way out of that misery and a reason to finally be happy, but that is not the case here. Even in success, Henri can’t accept it and sees the worst in those around him. Myriamme, for instance, asks him if he loves her. He assumes that she is playing with his emotions and lies to her, saying that he does not. Hurt, she writes him a letter, confessing that she does love him but that his bitterness has ruined any chance for them to be happy together. His realization of the truth comes too late, and she has already left, leaving no way for him to find her again.
This is a character study of a man who couldn’t see his self-worth, even as he died. He is informed on his deathbed that his works will be displayed in the Louvre and that his father is begging for forgiveness for not seeing its worth, and perhaps that eases him into the next life. But we never get into his mind enough to be able to confidently make that assumption. Instead, though José is sympathetic in his portrayal, he is never likable as a character, even in his faults, nor do we feel like we really know him. It’s a difficult character to pull off, and he does his best, but it just doesn’t quite resonate anymore. Still, he was nominated for an Oscar for this, so the Academy saw something that I just didn’t.
Moulin Rouge suffers from being too much of a downer of a film. There is a lot of material to mine from the life of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, and instead, it leaves us with nothing but feelings of sadness and depression. This may be a realistic portrayal of the man himself, but it makes for a slow and unpleasant viewing experience. Still, it makes me want to learn more about this individual and delve into just how much of this film is purely fictional rather than factual; apparently, a lot of it is made up. On a production level, this is a fascinating film to watch, but on a personal level, it’s far too cold.
Academy Award Nominations:
Best Motion Picture: John Huston
Best Director: John Huston
Best Actor: José Ferrer
Best Supporting Actress: Colette Marchand
Best Art Direction - Color: Paul Sheriff and Marcel Vertés (won)
Best Costume Design - Color: Marcel Vertés (won)
Best Film Editing: Ralph Kemplen
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Release Date: December 23, 1952
Running Time: 119 Minutes
Not Rated
Starring: José Ferrer, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Suzanne Flon, and Colette Marchand
Directed by: John Huston
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