There are lots of movies I mean to see, but when it actually comes down to leaving my apartment and seeing them, I only actually get to three or four a year. Even taking Sturgeon’s Law into account, this means that there are quite a few good movies that I’ve never gotten around to seeing.

In theory, this is the sort of thing that Netflix is perfect for: it actually lets me pre-emptively add movies to the queue before they’ve been released on DVD, so that even when I admit to myself that I’m not going to see a movie in the theater, I can make plans to see it on my TV at some vague point in the future. Of course, anyone who’s ever subscribed to Netflix can attest to the fact that the only things on your queue that you can count on getting around to are the first three discs. Everything that’s not currently in the mail, whether it’s #4 or #204 on the list, falls into a single category entitled “Movies I Meant to Watch,” a bucket full of unwatched films and good intentions lost in the shuffle.

Occasionally, though, something does manage to rise to the top of the heap, and I watch it, and I spend the next few days wondering what the heck I was thinking when I failed to see it in its first run. Then, after some soul searching, I resolve to go out to the movies on a regular basis, so that I can keep up with the films that filmmakers are making. But then another surprise pops up in the mail, courtesy of Netflix and the U.S. Postal Service, and I forget all about Transamerica or Brokeback Mountain or whatever it is I’m supposed to be watching now, because I’m sitting on the sofa in my pajamas, watching movies that are too old to be current and too new to be classic. And thus the cycle begins anew, ensuring that I will forever be behind the curve when it comes to movies.

This is a roundabout way of saying that even though I’ve been meaning to watch Moulin Rouge since it came out in 2001, I just now got around to seeing it. And even though people have been telling me how good it is for nigh on five years now, I was not prepared for it’s sheer fabulousness. “Lady Marmalade” mashed up with “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” a tango arrangement of “Roxanne,” French dancehall girls performing Bollywood numbers — lordy. What else have I been missing?