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 all these was the woman 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.
This woman is yours now. I've paid my whore. I owe you nothing. And you are nothing to me. (crying slightly) Thank you for c-curing me of my r-ridiculous obsession with love!
Can't fall in love? But a life without love, that-that-that's terrible!
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!
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.
I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed in above all things: love. There was only one problem. I'd never been in love!
Luckily, right at that moment an unconscious Argentinean fell through my roof.
Come what may... come what may. I will love you, until my dying day!
It's a little bit funny this feeling inside, I'm not one of those who can easily hide.
Please tell me you're not one of Toulouse's oh-so-talented, charmingly bohemian, tragically impoverished proteges!
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, Harold. He loves me and that is worth everything! We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge! Good-bye Harold.
Tell our story, Christian. Promise me. Yes. That way I'll... I'll always be with you.
You're going to be bad for business, I can tell.
The difference between you and I is that you can leave anytime you choose. But this is my home. The Moulin Rouge is my home.
Christian, I'm a courtesan. I'm paid to make men believe what they want to believe.
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.
Everything's going so well!
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!
The show must go on.
She says it feels so good when you hold her, and touch her; it makes her feel like a ... virgin.
We're creatures of the underworld. We can't afford to love.
Hurt him. Hurt him to save him.
A magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan bedazzlement, a sensual ravishment. It will be: Spectacular Spectacular.
My little sparrow is dying.
Why would the courtesan chose 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.