Ewan McGregor’s Wife: Let a Girl Dream
Is it too much to ask to be swept off your feet? To have someone bellow love songs at the top of their voice? To run around in the rain like idiots, splashing each other in puddles? To dance and sing love songs loudly in each other’s faces?
Last weekend, my friend and I were lonely. This is not an exception to our every day lives of singleness, however, Saturday was a particularly rough day. Our answer to the mediocrity and unfulfilled lives was of course simple:
We had already watched a film of his earlier in the week. Big Fish left me sobbing and my friend buried somewhere in my shoulder. We tried to fill our time with other horrible love tropes and stereotypes to pass the time but none were good enough.
Michael Fassbender was toxic in Jane Eyre. Much to my friend’s annoyance, I kept calling him out on all of his bullshit. Just because she saved your life doesn’t mean she wants to sleep with you. Just because your wife has mental illness doesn’t mean you can lock her in an attic and marry someone else. Just because you can speak doesn’t make you intelligent. Just because you can say witty, cutting things doesn’t make you attractive.
Unless you’re 19 and lonely apparently.
We moved left Michael behind and dove into Amazon Prime searching for someone else, hopefully less douchey and more romantic.
We found Ewan — in a musical — in a romantic drama.
We were sold.
Burlesque — Sorry, no, actually it’s called Moulin Rouge. My mistake, I was under the impression they were the same film and was very confused when Cher never showed up. But not altogether disappointed.
Together my friend and I, along with a Freshman we kidnapped — forced — begged — watched as Ewan McGregor, the young but talented writer, fell in love with a sex worker, who longs for bigger things. We laughed, we cringed, we cried. It was an experience.
Here’s my favorite song: (7) El Tango De Roxanne- Moulin Rouge — YouTube
Mostly we watched to hear Ewan sing. The fact that he was wearing suspenders and had a beard in the opening scene didn’t hurt either.
We put ourselves into the story. No longer was Satine the love interest. It was me. It was me that Ewan sang to as I sacrifice myself and go to seduce the villain to keep him from shutting down our show.
You’re free to leave me
I’d never leave. I’m yours, Ewan. I’m just doing this to save the world — I mean our show (which is a hodgepodge of Elton John and cultural appropriation).
Just don’t deceive me
The tragedy of this story is that I have to lie to him to protect him. If I pretend to have never loved him, he won’t get shot. It’s only because I love him that I hurt him this badly.
And please believe me when I say
I’ve believed you through this whole movie.
I love you
The villain has me trapped and I’m staring down from the tower. Ewan is staring up, his eyes full of tears, begging me to run. But I have to do this. I have to save us.
I open my mouth and sing quietly for him and only him:
Come what may
I will love you
Till my dying day
His gaze drops to the dirty cobblestone in defeat.
My heart is breaking apart. This isn’t how the story should go. He’s walking away, leaving me to do what I have to.
Tasting the melodrama? The end is just as bad. I get to die in his arms from consumption. But I got to sing with him one last time, for the final show. As the curtain falls, so do I.
Dramatic. Tragic. In Ewan McGregor’s arms.
Can you think of a better way to go? I can’t.