We’re a nation of big talents
It’s a disproportionate imbalance
With a film scene striving to create something new
Such a solid Whitlam decision
To fund the cinematic vision
Of Beresford, Schepisi and Weir, just to name a few
The directors of this nation
Get far-reaching adulation
And their work often brings in box office bucks
But despite this commendation
And analytical self gratification
The simple truth remains: Moulin Rouge sucks
Baz Luhrmann, you’re a hack
You’re the monkey on the back
Of an industry that’s forgotten how to boo
Coz you’ve been hailed as a genius
With a patent love of penis
Since your dumb fucking luck in ’92
You were hailed an artist and an auteur
Whose ballroom dancing film did stir
The heart strings of the entire lemonade set
Paul Mercurio tried to teach us
Lest those new steps would beseech us
And he kissed the girl like he just lost a bet
There was mass widespread acclaim
Although the film was kind of lame
A story based not in substance, but in style
And the one thing that it proved
Is that Australians can be moved
And have way more sentiment than they do guile
Then the worst adaptation yet
Of Romeo and Juliet
With this overly literal interpretation, it was marred
How so quickly we forget
That all the teenagers got wet
Or, if not wet, then maybe ¾ hard
I was thinking, what was next?
What’s with this homoerotic subtext?
Shouldn’t classic plays be closer under guard?
And then thought after I’d seen it
I would never dare to dream it
Kenneth Branagh’s not the only one who messes up the Bard
Baz Luhrmann, you’re a hack
You’re worse for us than crack
If real life was Paradise Lost, you’d be John Milton
I hated every single portion
Of that Moulin Rouge abortion
The only tackier vision of Paris, is Paris Hilton
Did you see Nicole Kidman and Ewan
Who we were meant to think were screwin’
With a plot like that you surely couldn’t lose
But their chemistry didn’t gel
It was the partnership from hell
More fake than her fake marriage to Tom Cruise
It couldn’t possibly be gayer
If the music was by Leo Sayer
With endless close-ups of Ms Kidman’s Botoxed kiss
So many badly sung pop songs
Some films stink, this one just pongs
I honestly thought he was trying to take the piss
Then it turns out that Australia
Was a monumental failure!
When the box office was open, no-one went
Then as he was playing with his nads
Baz did these fucking awful tourism ads
Now that’s tax payer dollars truly well spent
Baz Luhrmann, you’re a disgrace
You should be shot deep into space
For making such pandering, jingoistic bloody nonsense
And your hyper-kinetic pace
Makes me want to punch a dolphin in the face
It’s other people’s money, don’t you have a conscience?
It was well-documented in the Herald
He went and re-imagined F. Scott Fitzgerald
Apparently this is something we needed to see
Adding to the litany of wrongs
He’s filling it with crappy industrial dance songs
And that wanker's gone and filmed it in 3D
Baz Luhrmann must be stopped
From an aeroplane, he must be dropped
He’s a one-trick pony whose trick was never good
While he sucks on the cinematic teat
With fawning sycophants at his feet
If nobody’s tried to stop him, then somebody should
Baz Luhrmann needs to die
Nobody would wonder why
Although some may have cause to hazard a guess
As the movie world would be cleared
Missed only by his trophy wife-slash-beard
Because this ugly world would suck a little less
There are a plethora of ideas
People have been pitching them for years
But no producing bastard will return their calls
So as far as I can tell
They can all go straight to Hell
For spending all their time ladling on his balls
I’m not saying that I’m jealous
Although these words have been quite zealous
And the film industry is filled with talentless fucks
And it may sound glib and pissy
To despise this film making sissy
But the simple truth remains: Moulin Rouge sucks.
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