I got my first noise complaint in an apartment from playing this one too loud. I loved it. I loved the style the performances and the archetypal love story. Great music covers and surprisingly good singing from Kidman and McGregor. Triumph of style over substance if that can ever be a good thing.
I'm very conflicted about Baz Luhrmann. He definitely has a unique flair and his films are beautiful to look at. But the story here was so unbearably "fromage" that I was squirming to get out of the theatre. A woman in the front row was bawling her eyes out by the end which cracked me up. I know that people who love this film are quite rabid in their passion for it, but this just wasn't my cup of tea.
If the music isn't good, I just don't care how good the movie is. One of the best songs in the movie is "Come what may", which should have won the Oscar, were it not disqualified for stupid reasons. While Nicole Kidman is picture perfect, it's Ewan McGregor who really steals the show. He does a great cover of "Your Song".
Precocious pep and pop: this smash n’ grab raid on musical form tries to have its over-iced cake and eat it. It has a certain energy but must it be so frenetically delivered? The result is a series of showy explosions in a vacuum with little to hold attention other than bounce. Art direction is everything here, but it reduces the performances to being too-small cogs in a lumbering mechanism of forced jollity.
I'm genuinely shocked at how leaden, squirm-inducing, unwatchable and fundamentally ghastly this is. The fact this childishly amateurish trash was successful says a lot about the times we live in. Luhrmann's ballroom flick was OK, I suppose, but this is as embarrassing as his Shakespeare travesty. Steer clear at all costs.