Baz Luhrmann, JoJo, and Broadway Royalty: Moulin Rouge! Bids Glittering Goodbye

Mia Reynolds, 2/6/2026"Moulin Rouge! The Musical" bids farewell after 2,265 performances, captivating audiences with its vibrant blend of music and emotion. As it prepares for its final curtain on July 26, 2025, the show leaves behind a legacy of unforgettable moments and a uniquely bohemian spirit in Broadway history.

Pause for a second and consider: that “last can-can” will follow 2,265 performances and a couple dozen previews. That’s a lot of stomped boards, spilled glitter, and confetti that, honestly, will never truly leave those seats (or, let’s be real, your hair if you sat front row). Even the pandemic, which swept across Manhattan in a wave of lockdowns back in March 2020, couldn’t stamp out the show’s pulse. When theaters unlocked their doors in late 2021, folks filed back in, chasing the familiar heartbeats of possibility and risk that have always defined both Broadway and Bohemia.

There’s something different about this closing—less like a curtain quietly dropping, more like a champagne cork popping erratically into the night. “Moulin Rouge!” wasn’t just the longest-surviving musical from its class of 2019–2020; it was the one that, somehow, kept the party going after everyone else went home. Box office numbers sometimes feel sterile, but it’s worth noting: this show outgrossed every other Hirschfeld production—ever. Not just a little, either; the investment (rumored to be around $28 million) paid off by the time the city’s Christmas trees were twinkling in 2022. And while the average ticket price these days hangs just under $100—a steal compared to six-figure sums being waved at the newer blockbusters—the crowds still file in, nine out of ten seats filled week after week. In a Broadway landscape forever worrying about the “next big thing,” that kind of loyalty borders on miraculous.

So what was the secret? Fairy dust? Strong coffee? Perhaps a bit of both. Step inside the Hirschfeld and you’re instantly spun away from Midtown’s relentless grid. Instead, Paris unfurls in every direction: a hulking elephant, lush fabrics that nearly swallow you, velvet and ruby shadows climbing the walls. The trick isn’t just the decor—a feverish fantasy of John Logan’s book and Sonya Tayeh’s choreography. No, it’s the music. Orchestrator Justin Levine somehow blends Katy Perry with a slant of Elton John and a wink at Madonna, all while the show’s nervous system pulses with 21st-century energy. One moment, sparks of “Firework” raise goosebumps; the next, the air seems thick with longing and possibility (and, depending on the night, the scent of dry ice).

The creative team deserves its bows. Director Alex Timbers deserves a particular nod for transforming that old theatre from a relic to a living, breathing thing. Producer Carmen Pavlovic has called it “the honor of a lifetime,” and there’s little reason to doubt her sincerity—especially when you watch world-class performers float, whirl, and occasionally collapse with exhaustion under the red lights.

But that’s another thing about this show: for all its precision, “Moulin Rouge!” never played it too safe. The cast was a revolving door of notables, some old friends, others new, who each left their fingerprints on the velvet. Karen Olivo, Aaron Tveit, and Danny Burstein may have set the original bar, but over the years, the magic came from surprise appearances and risky reinventions. Bob the Drag Queen reimagined Harold Zidler, JoJo and Tituss Burgess added their own flavors to Satine’s Paris; suddenly the familiar spark felt new again.

Some say the box office softened recently. Perhaps, but numbers only capture part of the truth. What can’t be measured—the quiet catch in someone’s throat as Satine floats atop the elephant, the roaring laughter as the Duke descends into comic villainy, the silent moments of heartbreak that seem to linger in the ruby haze long after the applause dies—keeps people coming back. Sure, there are shinier new musicals down the block, all vying for the next TikTok hit, but few invite return visits quite like this. Maybe nostalgia’s part of it. More likely, it’s that thrill of stepping into a room where anything might happen.

Meanwhile, across oceans and time zones, “Moulin Rouge!” spins on—London, Seoul, Hamburg, no city immune to its spell. Pavlovic has a point: for all Broadway’s woes, there remains a tribe of artists who’ll indeed move mountains (or, at the very least, drag an elephant across a stage) just to share a good story.

Come July, that last night will be something. Not just for Broadway regulars, but for anyone who’s ever needed a little rebellion mixed with their romance—a reminder that love and art are stubborn, and joy, fleeting as it may be, is always worth chasing, even if it means vacuuming up rhinestones for weeks after.

How will the city feel when the final notes of “Come What May” echo out? Maybe a touch quieter. Maybe a little less bohemian. But the memory’ll linger—just another beat in a city that never quite stops dancing, even after the curtain falls.

Beneath the bold lights of 45th Street, there’s a building that, for the past seven years, hasn’t so much contained a show as it’s housed a fever dream. The Al Hirschfeld Theatre—already a hundred years deep into Broadway’s memory bank—has seen no shortage of spectacle. Still, “Moulin Rouge! The Musical” raised the bar with its blend of glitter, heartbreak, and jump-out-of-your-seat bravado. Yet, as all things do, even the hottest fire on Broadway cools with time; July 26, 2025, marks the final bow for this kaleidoscope of a production—one last can-can before the curtain falls for good.Pause for a second and consider: that “last can-can” will follow 2,265 performances and a couple dozen previews. That’s a lot of stomped boards, spilled glitter, and confetti that, honestly, will never truly leave those seats (or, let’s be real, your hair if you sat front row). Even the pandemic, which swept across Manhattan in a wave of lockdowns back in March 2020, couldn’t stamp out the show’s pulse. When theaters unlocked their doors in late 2021, folks filed back in, chasing the familiar heartbeats of possibility and risk that have always defined both Broadway and Bohemia.There’s something different about this closing—less like a curtain quietly dropping, more like a champagne cork popping erratically into the night. “Moulin Rouge!” wasn’t just the longest-surviving musical from its class of 2019–2020; it was the one that, somehow, kept the party going after everyone else went home. Box office numbers sometimes feel sterile, but it’s worth noting: this show outgrossed every other Hirschfeld production—ever. Not just a little, either; the investment (rumored to be around $28 million) paid off by the time the city’s Christmas trees were twinkling in 2022. And while the average ticket price these days hangs just under $100—a steal compared to six-figure sums being waved at the newer blockbusters—the crowds still file in, nine out of ten seats filled week after week. In a Broadway landscape forever worrying about the “next big thing,” that kind of loyalty borders on miraculous.So what was the secret? Fairy dust? Strong coffee? Perhaps a bit of both. Step inside the Hirschfeld and you’re instantly spun away from Midtown’s relentless grid. Instead, Paris unfurls in every direction: a hulking elephant, lush fabrics that nearly swallow you, velvet and ruby shadows climbing the walls. The trick isn’t just the decor—a feverish fantasy of John Logan’s book and Sonya Tayeh’s choreography. No, it’s the music. Orchestrator Justin Levine somehow blends Katy Perry with a slant of Elton John and a wink at Madonna, all while the show’s nervous system pulses with 21st-century energy. One moment, sparks of “Firework” raise goosebumps; the next, the air seems thick with longing and possibility (and, depending on the night, the scent of dry ice).The creative team deserves its bows. Director Alex Timbers deserves a particular nod for transforming that old theatre from a relic to a living, breathing thing. Producer Carmen Pavlovic has called it “the honor of a lifetime,” and there’s little reason to doubt her sincerity—especially when you watch world-class performers float, whirl, and occasionally collapse with exhaustion under the red lights.But that’s another thing about this show: for all its precision, “Moulin Rouge!” never played it too safe. The cast was a revolving door of notables, some old friends, others new, who each left their fingerprints on the velvet. Karen Olivo, Aaron Tveit, and Danny Burstein may have set the original bar, but over the years, the magic came from surprise appearances and risky reinventions. Bob the Drag Queen reimagined Harold Zidler, JoJo and Tituss Burgess added their own flavors to Satine’s Paris; suddenly the familiar spark felt new again.Some say the box office softened recently. Perhaps, but numbers only capture part of the truth. What can’t be measured—the quiet catch in someone’s throat as Satine floats atop the elephant, the roaring laughter as the Duke descends into comic villainy, the silent moments of heartbreak that seem to linger in the ruby haze long after the applause dies—keeps people coming back. Sure, there are shinier new musicals down the block, all vying for the next TikTok hit, but few invite return visits quite like this. Maybe nostalgia’s part of it. More likely, it’s that thrill of stepping into a room where anything might happen.Meanwhile, across oceans and time zones, “Moulin Rouge!” spins on—London, Seoul, Hamburg, no city immune to its spell. Pavlovic has a point: for all Broadway’s woes, there remains a tribe of artists who’ll indeed move mountains (or, at the very least, drag an elephant across a stage) just to share a good story.Come July, that last night will be something. Not just for Broadway regulars, but for anyone who’s ever needed a little rebellion mixed with their romance—a reminder that love and art are stubborn, and joy, fleeting as it may be, is always worth chasing, even if it means vacuuming up rhinestones for weeks after.How will the city feel when the final notes of “Come What May” echo out? Maybe a touch quieter. Maybe a little less bohemian. But the memory’ll linger—just another beat in a city that never quite stops dancing, even after the curtain falls.