Éric Alfred Leslie Satie (pronounced: [eʁik sati]) (17 May 1866 – Paris, 1 July 1925; signed his name Erik Satie after 1884) was a French composer and pianist. Satie was a colourful figure in the early 20th century Parisian avant-garde. His work was a precursor to later artistic movements such as minimalism, repetitive music, and the Theatre of the Absurd.
An eccentric, Satie was introduced as a "gymnopedist" in 1887, shortly before writing his most famous compositions, the Gymnopédies. Later, he also referred to himself as a "phonometrician" (meaning "someone who measures sounds") preferring this designation to that of a "musician", after having been called "a clumsy but subtle technician" in a book on contemporary French composers published in 1911.
In addition to his body of music, Satie also left a remarkable set of writings, having contributed work for a range of publications, from the dadaist 391 to the American culture chronicle Vanity Fair. Although in later life he prided himself on always publishing his work under his own name, in the late nineteenth century he appears to have used pseudonyms such as Virginie Lebeau and François de Paule in some of his published writings.
Pascal Rogé (Paris, 6 April 1951) is a French pianist. His playing includes the works of compatriot composers Saint-Saëns, Fauré, Debussy, Ravel, Satie, and Poulenc, among others. However, his repertoire also covers the German masters Haydn, Mozart, Brahms, and Beethoven.
Rogé first appeared in public in 1960 with a performance of Claude Debussy's Preludes. He won the piano prize at the Paris Conservatory and worked for several years with Julius Katchen. At seventeen, he gave his first recitals in major European cities, landing an exclusive contract with Decca in the process. He has a particular affinity for French composers such as Debussy, Gabriel Fauré, Ravel and Poulenc. He also performs chamber works, with the Pasquier Trio, and with musicians such as Pierre Amoyal or Michel Portal, with whom he recorded Poulenc and Tchaikovsky. He gives recitals worldwide, in all the major centres. A friend of conductor Charles Dutoit, he was regularly invited to Canada to work with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra while M. Dutoit was conductor there.
Plot
What if appearances were all that really mattered after all? In the full bloom of her youth Satie is told that she only has a few days left to live. During her birthday dinner party, the young woman puts on the mask of circumstances and looks more dazzling than ever. But suddenly she drops her mask. Her disappointment and her tears conjure up the image of her dead father and along with him, the answer to her questions and things as they really are.
Keywords: appearance, illusion, shortcut
A wonderful journey in the lands of appearances
Plot
The year is 1899, and Christian, a young English writer, has come to Paris to follow the Bohemian revolution taking hold of the city's drug and prostitute infested underworld. And nowhere is the thrill of the underworld more alive than at the Moulin Rouge, a night club where the rich and poor men alike come to be entertained by the dancers, but things take a wicked turn for Christian as he starts a deadly love affair with the star courtesan of the club, Satine. But her affections are also coveted by the club's patron: the Duke. A dangerous love triangle ensues as Satine and Christian attempt to fight all odds to stay together but a force that not even love can conquer is taking its toll on Satine...
Keywords: 1890s, 1900s, 19th-century, absinthe, acting, altered-version-of-studio-logo, anachronism, apache-dance, apartment, attempted-murder
No Laws. No Limits. One Rule. Never Fall In Love.
This Story Is About Truth
This Story Is About Beauty
This Story Is About Freedom
Above All Things This Story Is About Love
Truth - Beauty - Freedom - Love
Club Moulin Rouge - an experience you won't forget!
The show must go on
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.
Every man wanted her. But One man dared to love her.
Satine: Tell our story Christian, that way I'll-I'll always be with you.
Christian: 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.
Toulouse-Lautrec: I got it, I got it. Christian.::[shouts]::Toulouse-Lautrec: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.
Christian: [to the Duke] This woman is yours now. I've paid my whore. [to Satine] I owe you nothing. And you are nothing to me. Thank you for curing me of my ridiculous obsession with love.
Zidler: I am the evil maharajah.::Satine: Oh Harold, no one could play him like you could.::Zidler: No one's going to.
Zidler: Send Christian away. Only you can save him.
The Duke: 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: [shouts] I don't care about your ridiculous dogma! Why shouldn't the courtesan chose the maharajah?::Christian: [shouts] 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.
Satine: 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! He loves me, Harold. And that is worth everything! We're going away from you, away from the Duke, away from the Moulin Rouge!
Christian and Satine: Come what may, I will love you until my dying day.
Satine: What's his type? Wilting flower? Bright and bubbly? Or smoldering temptress?::Zidler: I'd say... smoldering temptress.