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: [to the Duke
] This woman is yours now. I've paid my whore.
: I owe you nothing. And you are nothing to me. Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love.
: I don't like this ending... Zidler
: Don't like the ending, my dear Duke? The Duke
: Why should the courtesan 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 courtesan 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 ridiculous dogma! Why shouldn't the courtesan 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 courtesan choosing the maharajah and without the lovers' secret song. It will be rehearsed in the morning, ready for the opening 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.
: [voiceover and typing
] 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. Christian
: [voiceover, singing
] The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
: 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.
] The courtesan and sitar man are pulled apart by an evil plan... Satine
] but in the end she hears his song... Christian
] and their love is just too strong. The Duke
] It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside.
: Besides, I can't fall in love with anyone Christian
: Can't... fall... in love? But, a life without love, that's... terrible... Satine
: No, being on the street, that's terrible. Christian
: No! Love is like oxygen! Satine
: What? Christian
: Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love! Christian
: [bursts out into song
: 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.
: 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 you 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.
: Tell me the truth. Satine
: The truth? The truth is that I am the Hindu courtesan... and I choose the maharajah.
: 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 "Sparkling Diamond", and she was the star... of the Moulin rouge. The woman I loved is... dead.
: 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?
: 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
[starts to stand
: 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.
: Things aren't always as they seem. Christian
: Things are exactly the way they seem.
: 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.
] Luckily, right at that moment, an unconscious Argentinean fell through my roof.
[With a loud crash, the Narcoleptic Argentinean falls through the ceiling
] He was quickly joined by a dwarf dressed as a nun.
: 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.
: 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...
: [enters Christian's loft in hysterics
] Oh, thank goodness!
[she hugs Christian and begins crying
: I couldn't! I couldn't go through with it! I saw you there and I felt differently! I couldn't pretend!
: And the Duke he saw! He saw and he-Christian, I love you.
[continues to hug him
] It's okay. Satine
] I couldn't deal with it! I don't want to pretend anymore! I didn't want to lie! I don't -
[takes a breath and calms down
: And he knows! He knows and he saw you! Christian
: That's all right. You don't have to pretend anymore. We'll leave. We'll leave tonight. Satine
: Leave? Wh-the show wh-? Christian
: I don't care. I don't care about the show. We have each other. That's all that matters. Satine
: Yes. As long as we have each other. We have each other.
: [turns to Chocolat
] Chocolat. Take Miss Satine to her dressing room and get the things she needs. No one must see you. Do you understand? Le Chocolat
: I understand. Christian
: [to Satine
] Now darling you go and pack, and I'll be waiting.
[he wraps his coat around Satine and gives her a final kiss
: 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
: We were off to the Moulin Rouge and I was to perform my poetry for Satine.
] 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!
] His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin. It's more than I can stand!
: How could I know... in those last fatal days... that a force darker than jealousy... and stronger than love; had began to take hold of Satine... Zidler
: Where is she?
: I've come to pay my bill.
: Mademaiselle Satine, I haven't quite finished writing that new scene. The "Will The Lovers Be Meeting at the Sitar Player's Humble Abode" scene. And I wondered if I could work on it with you later tonight. The Duke
: But, my dear, I've arranged a magnificent supper for us in the Gothic Tower. Christian
: It's not important. We could work on it tomorrow. Satine
: Oh, how dare you! It cannot wait until tomorrow. The "Lovers Will Be Meeting in the Sitar Player's Humble Abode" scene is the most important in the production. We will work on it tonight until I am completely satisfied. The Duke
: B-But my dear... Satine
: Dear Duke. Excuse me. Christian
] I'm sorry.
] Sat on the roof/ and I kicked off the moss/ and some of these verses, well they/ they've got me quite cross/ but the sun's been kind/ while I wrote this song/ It's for people like you that/ keep it turned on/ so excuse me forgetting/ but these things I do/ you see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue/ the whole thing is/ what I really mean/ your's are the sweetest eyes/ I've ever seen .
: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
: India! India! It's set in India! And there's a courtesan, the most beautiful courtesan in all the world.
[Turns to the Duke
: But her kingdom's invaded by an evil Maharaja! Now, in order to save her kingdom, she has to seduce the evil Maharaja. But on the night of the seduction, she mistakes a penniless po- a penniless- a penniless sitar player for the evil Maharaja and she falls in love with him!
[turns to Satine
: He wasn't trying to trick her or anything, but he was dressed as a Maharaja because... he's appearing in a play!
: I'm sorry, Christian, I'm dying. Christian
: No, you'll be alright Satine
: I'm so sorry, Christian. I'm sorry.
: I'm cold. Hold me.
: You've got to carry on without me, Christian. Christian
: I can't carry on without you. Satine
: You have so much to give. Christian
: No. Satine
: Ye. Tell our story, Christian. Christian
: I love you. Satine
] Tell our story, Christian, that way I'll always be with you. Christian
: Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and then on not-so very special day, I sat down at my type-writer and I wrote down our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But most importantly, a story about love. A love that will live forever. The end.
: I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things: love.