Christian: The Moulin Rouge...a nightclub, a dancehall 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.

Christian: I first came to Paris one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. I knew nothing of the Moulin Rouge, Harold Zidler, or Satine. The world had been swept up in bohemian revolution, and I had traveled from London to be a part of it. On a hill near Paris was the village of Montmartre. It was not, as my father had said...
Christian's Father: A village of sin!
Christian: But the centre of the Bohemian world...with musicians, painters, and writers. They were known as the 'Children of the Revolution.'
Christian: Yes, I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom...and that which I believed in above all things, love.

Satine: What's his type? Wilting flower? Bright and bubbly? Or smouldering temptress?

Satine: So wonderful of you to take an interest in our little show.
Christian: It sounds very exciting. I'd be delighted to be involved.
Satine: Really?
Christian: Assuming you like what I do, of course.
Satine: I'm sure I will.
Christian: Toulouse thought we might be able to, um, do it in private.
Satine: Did he?
Christian: Yes. You know, uh, a private poetry reading.
Satine: Ohh! Mmm, a poetry reading. I love a little poetry after supper.

Marie: That twinkle-toes Duke has really taken the bait, girl. With a patron like him, you could be the next Sarah Bernhardt.
Satine: Oh Marie, do you really think I could be like the great Sarah?
Marie: Why not? You've got the talent. You hook that Duke and you'll be lining up the great stages of Europe.
Satine: I'm going to be a real actress Marie, a great actress. I'm going to fly away from here.

Satine: This is a wonderful place for a poetry reading, don't you think? Hmm? Poetic enough for you?
Christian: Yes.
Satine: A little, uh, supper? Maybe some Champagne?
Christian: I'd rather just, um, get it over and done with.
Satine: Oh. Very well. Then why don't you come down here? And let's get it over and done with.
Christian: I-I prefer to do it standing.
Satine: Oh!
Christian: 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 – but I think if you're open, then—then you might enjoy it.
Satine: I'm sure I will.

Toulouse: He's got a huge talent!

Satine: Yes, I need your poetry now!

Satine: Oh, 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?
Christian: Yes, a writer.
Satine: No!
Christian: Toulouse?
Satine: Toulouse? Oh no, you're not another one of Toulouse's oh-so-talented, charmingly bohemian, tragically impoverished protégés?
Christian: You might say that, yes.
Satine: Oh no! I'm going to kill him! I'm going to kill him!

Toulouse: I think there might be a small hitch.

Satine: It's from 'Spectacular Spectacular.' Suddenly with you here, I finally understood the true meaning of those words: 'How wonderful life is, now you're in the world.'
Duke: And what meaning is that, my dear?
Satine: No! No! Duke! Don't you toy with my emotions! You—you must know the effect you have on women. Let's make love! You want to, don't you?
Duke: Make love?
Satine: Oh, I knew you felt the same way. Oh! Oh! Duke!
Satine: Get out of here or he'll kill you!
Satine: Yes, you're right. We should wait until opening night.
Duke: Wait? Wait? I just got here.
Satine: Yes, but we'll see each other every day during rehearsal. We—we must wait, we must wait until opening night. Get out.

Satine: Oh, Duke...
Duke: It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside.
Satine: Beautifully spoken, Duke. Yes, let me introduce you to the writer.
Duke: The writer?
Satine: Yes. Oh yes. We were— we were rehearsing.
Duke: Ha ha-ha. You expect me to believe that, scantily clad, in the arms of another man, in the middle of the night, inside an elephant, you were rehearsing?
Toulouse: How's the rehearsal going? Shall we take it from the top, my queen?
Satie: I hope the piano's in tune.
The Unconscious Argentinean: Sorry, we got held up.
The Doctor: Can I offer you a drink?
Zidler: Oh my goodness!
Satine: When I spoke those words to you before, you—you filled me with such inspiration. Yes, I realised how much work we had to do before tomorrow, so I called everyone together for an emergency rehearsal.

Duke: What's the story?
Zidler: The story?
Duke: Well, if I'm to invest, I'll need to know the story.
Zidler: Ah yes. Well, the story's about...Toulouse?
Toulouse: Well, the story—the story's about…well, it's about um…
Christian: It's about love!
Duke: Love?
Christian: It's about love overcoming all obstacles.
Toulouse: And it's set in Switzerland!
Duke: Switzerland?
Zidler: Exotic Switzerland!
Christian: India. India! It's set in India. And there's a courtesan, the most beautiful courtesan in all the world. But her kingdom's invaded by an evil maharajah. Now, in order to save her kingdom, she has to seduce the evil maharajah, but, on the night of the seduction, she mistakes a penniless po— a penniless...a penniless sitar player...for the evil maharajah, and she falls in love with him! He wasn't trying to trick her or anything, but he was dressed as a maharajah because— because he's appearing in a play.
The Unconscious Argentinean: I will play the penniless tango-dancing sitar player. He will sing like an angel, but dance like the devil!
Duke: Yes. Yes, all right. And— and what happens next?
Christian: Well, the penniless sitar player and the courtesan, they have to hide their love from the evil maharajah.
Satie: The penniless sitar player's sitar is magical. It can only speak the truth.
Toulouse: And— and I will play the magical sitar. You are beautiful. You are ugly. And you are...
Duke: Yes, yes, yes. And he gives the game away, eh?
All Except The Duke: Yes!
Zidler: Tell him about the can-can.
Christian: The— the— the tantric can-can. It's...
Zidler: It's an erotic spectacular scene that captures the thrusting, violent, vibrant, wild bohemian spirit that this whole production embodies, Duke.
Duke: What do you mean by that?
Zidler: I mean the show will be a magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan bedazzlement, a sensual ravishment. It will be...Spectacular Spectacular!

Toulouse: It's the end of the century! The bohemian revolution is here!

Christian: Sorry! I didn't mean to. I saw—I saw your light on, and—I climbed up the...
Satine: What?
Christian: I couldn't sleep, and I—I wanted to thank you for helping me get the job.
Satine: Oh. Of course. Yes, Toulouse— Toulouse was right. You're— you're very talented.
Christian: Oh.
Satine: It's going to be a wonderful show. Anyway, I—I'd better go, because we, uh, we both have a big day tomorrow.
Christian: Wait. No, please wait.
Christian: Before, when we were—when we were— when you thought I was the Duke. You said that you loved me, a- and I wondered if, if...
Satine: If 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.
Christian: Silly of me, to think that y-you could fall in love with someone like me.
Satine: 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-spendoured thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!
Satine: Please, don't start that again.

Christian: How wonderful life was, now Satine was in the world. But in the Duke, Zidler had gotten much more than he had bargained for.

Duke: The conversion of the Moulin Rouge into a theatre will cost a fantastic sum of money, Zidler. So in return, I would require a contract that, um, uh, binds Satine to me exclusively. Naturally, I shall require some security. I shall require the deeds to the Moulin Rouge.
Zidler: My dear Duke, I...
Duke: Please! Don't think that I'm naïve Zidler. I shall hold the deeds to the Moulin Rouge, and if there are any shenanigans...
Zidler: I...
Duke: My manservant Warner...will deal with it in the only language that you underworld show folk understand. Satine will be mine.
Duke: I'm not a jealous man, I just don't like other people touching my things!

Christian: For try as the Duke may, it was almost too easy for the young writer and the lead actress to invent perfectly legitimate reasons to avoid him.

Christian: Mam'selle Satine, I haven't quite finished writing that new scene, the, um, 'Will the Lovers be Meeting at the Sitar Player's Humble Abode' scene, and I wondered if I might work on it with you later tonight.
Duke: But my dear, I've arranged a magnificent supper for us in the Gothic Tower.
Christian: Well, it's not important. We—we could work on it tomorrow.
Satine: How dare you! It cannot wait! '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.

Zidler: Are you mad? The Duke holds the deeds to the Moulin Rouge. He's spending a fortune on you, he's built you a beautiful new dressing room. He wants to make you a star. And you're dallying with the writer?

Christian: How could I know in those last fatal days that a force darker than jealousy and stronger than love had begun to take hold of Satine.

Christian: Harold Zidler's brilliant lies had once again averted disaster. But no lie, however brilliant, could save Satine.

Christian: All night, the penniless sitar player had waited, and now, for the first time, he felt the cold stab of jealousy.

Satine: We have to end it. Everyone knows. Harold knows. Sooner or later the Duke will find out too. On opening night, I have to sleep with the Duke, and the jealousy will drive you mad. Christian.
Christian: Then I'll write a song, and—and we'll put it in the show, and no matter how bad things get...
Satine: Christian...
Christian: ...or whatever happens...
Satine: ...No.
Christian: ...whenever you hear it, or when you sing it, or whistle it, or hum it, well then you'll know...it'll mean— it'll mean that we love one another. I won't get jealous.
Satine: Things don't work that way, Christian. We have to end it.

Nini: This ending's silly. Why would the courtesan go for the penniless writer? Whoops! I mean sitar player.

Duke: I don't like this ending.
Zidler: Don't like the ending, my dear Duke?
Duke: Why would the courtesan choose a 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. I suggest that in the end, the courtesan choose the maharajah.
Toulouse: But, b-but sorry. Sorry, but that ending does not uphold the bohemian ideals of, of truth, beauty, freedom...
Duke: I don't care about your ridiculous dogma! Why shouldn't the courtesan choose the maharajah!
Christian: Because she doesn't love you!

Christian: She had gone to the tower to save us all...and for our part we could do nothing but wait.

The Unconscious Argentinean: Never fall in love with a woman who sells herself, it always ends bad!

The Unconscious Argentinean: We have a dance in the brothels of Buenos Aires. It tells the story of a prostitute and a man, who falls in love with her. First, there is desire, then passion, then suspicion...jealousy, anger, betrayal. Where love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust. Without trust, there is no love. Jealousy, yes, jealousy...will drive you...mad!

Duke: When this production succeeds you'll no longer be a can-can dancer, but an actress. I will make you...a star.

Duke: Accept it as a gift from this maharajah to his courtesan.
Satine: Oh. And, and the ending?
Duke: Let Zidler keep his fairy-tale ending.

Satine: I couldn't, I couldn't go through with it. I saw you there, and I—I felt terribly, and I couldn't do it, and the Duke, he saw. He saw, and he...Christian, I love you...
Christian: It's okay.
Satine: ...and I couldn't do it, I don't want to pretend anymore, I didn't want to lie, I don't...and he knows. He knows, and he saw you...
Christian: It's all right, you don't have to pretend anymore. We'll leave, we'll leave tonight.
Satine: Leave? Wh—but the show...
Christian: I don't care, I don't care about the show. We love each other, and that's all that matters.
Satine: Yes, as long as we have each other.
Satine: We have each other.

Duke: It's the boy. He—he has bewitched her with words. I want her back, Zidler. Find her. Tell her that the show will end my way, and she will come to me when the curtain falls, or I will have the boy killed.
Zidler: Killed?
Duke: Killed.

Satine: You're wasting your time, Harold.
Zidler: Stop it, you don't understand. The Duke is going to kill Christian.
Satine: No.
Zidler: The Duke is insanely jealous. Unless you do his ending and sleep with him tomorrow night, the Duke will have Christian killed.
Satine: He can't scare us.
Zidler: He's a powerful man. You know he can do it.
Zidler: What are you doing?
Satine: I don't need you anymore! All my life you made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me.
Satine: 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! Goodbye Harold.
Zidler: You're dying, Satine. You're dying.
Satine: Another trick, Harold?
Zidler: No, my love. The doctor told us.
Satine: Marie? I'm dying.
Zidler: Send Christian away. Only you can save him.
Satine: He'll fight for me.
Zidler: Yes. Unless he believes you don't love him.
Satine: What?
Zidler: You're a great actress, Satine. Make him believe you don't love him.
Satine: No.
Zidler: Use your talent to save him. Hurt him. Hurt him to save him. There is no other way. The show must go on, Satine. We're creatures of the underworld. We can't afford to love.

Satine: I'm staying with the Duke. After I left you, the Duke came to see me, and he offered me everything. Everything that I've ever dreamed of. He has one condition: I must never see you again. I'm sorry.
Christian: What are you talking about?
Satine: You knew who I was.
Christian: What are you saying? What about last night, what we said?
Satine: I wouldn't expect you to understand. 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: No. There must be something else, this— this can't be real.
Christian: There's something the matter, tell me what it is. Tell me what's wrong.
Christian: Tell me the truth! Tell me the truth!
Satine: The truth? The truth is, I am the Hindu courtesan. And I choose the maharajah.
Satine: That's how the story really ends.

Toulouse: Things aren't always the way they seem.
Christian: Things are exactly the way they seem.
Toulouse: Christian, you may see me only as a drunken, vice-ridden gnome whose friends are just pimps and girls from the brothels, but I know about art and love, if only because I long for it with every fibre of my being. She loves you, I know it. I know she loves you.
Christian: Go away, Toulouse, leave me alone. Go away. Go away!

Christian: I wanted to shut out what Toulouse had said, but he had filled me with doubt and there was only one way to be sure...I had to know. So I returned to the Moulin Rouge one last time.

Toulouse: I know she still loves him, there's got to be a reason.
The Unconscious Argentinean: How about one of them is a Duke, and the other...
Toulouse: Oh, then you agree something is wrong. But what? But what?

Toulouse: He'll be killed? That's it, that's why she's pushing him away, to save him. That's it, that's it. Christian!

Christian: I've come to pay my bill.
Satine: You shouldn't be here, Christian.
Satine: Just leave.
Christian: You made me believe that you loved me. Why shouldn't I pay you?
Satine: Please, Christian.

Christian: 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.

Toulouse: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return!

Satine: I, I—I—I'm dying. I'm so sorry.
Christian: You'll be all right. You'll be all right. You'll be all right.
Satine: Cold. I'm co—cold. Hold me. Hold me.
Christian: You're okay. I love you.
Satine: You've got to go on, Christian.
Christian: Can't go on without you, though.
Satine: You've got so much to give. Tell—tell our story, Christian.
Christian: No.
Satine: Yes. Promise me. Promise me. Yes. Yes. That way I'll—I'll always be with you.

Christian: 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.

Christian: The greatest thing you'll ever learn Is just to love and be loved in return.