I thought 'Moulin Rouge' was inspirational, and 'Jesus Christ

In the simple yet sincere words of Pierce Brosnan, we hear the reverence of an artist paying tribute to the power of storytelling: “I thought 'Moulin Rouge' was inspirational, and 'Jesus Christ Superstar' I loved.” Though brief, his reflection is rich with the spirit of awe, that sacred emotion which arises when art transcends its medium and becomes revelation. Brosnan is not merely sharing his taste in cinema or theatre; he is expressing gratitude for works that stir the heart and awaken the soul — for inspirational art, in its highest form, speaks to what is immortal in us. It reminds us that beauty and truth can emerge from spectacle, and that even amid the artifice of performance, we may glimpse the divine.

The meaning of this statement lies in its pairing of two works — “Moulin Rouge” and “Jesus Christ Superstar.” At first glance, they seem vastly different: one a modern, glittering tale of love and sacrifice set in a cabaret of color and chaos; the other a sacred rock opera retelling the passion of Christ. Yet Brosnan unites them through a single word: “inspirational.” What binds these stories together is their shared celebration of love’s redemptive power — of art’s ability to fuse joy with suffering, glamour with devotion, and mortality with transcendence. In each, the audience witnesses the eternal struggle between passion and pain, between the fleeting and the eternal.

The origin of such inspiration reaches back to the dawn of performance itself. Since the days of ancient Greece, theatre has served not merely to entertain, but to elevate. The tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides were not just plays — they were moral temples built upon the stage. Within them, the Greeks saw reflections of their own souls, learning humility before the gods and compassion for their fellow mortals. Likewise, in modern works like Moulin Rouge and Jesus Christ Superstar, the same ancient fire burns: music and drama become vessels through which the audience confronts beauty, death, and the divine mystery of love. Brosnan’s admiration, therefore, is not for their surface spectacle, but for their spiritual resonance — the way they awaken what the ancients called catharsis, the cleansing of the heart through wonder.

In “Moulin Rouge,” love is portrayed as both ecstasy and agony — the eternal dance between creation and loss. The story’s hero, Christian, risks everything for beauty and truth, echoing the poets and dreamers of all ages who have believed that love is worth suffering for. It is this devotion to idealism that likely moves Brosnan, for every artist knows this perilous path — to pour one’s soul into something transient, yet eternal in its impact. And in “Jesus Christ Superstar,” the story of sacrifice is elevated by the language of song — a fusion of the sacred and the modern that bridges centuries. To love such a work is to recognize that art, like faith, evolves yet remains timeless.

Indeed, Pierce Brosnan’s reflection reveals more about himself than about the films. He is, at his heart, an artist who recognizes the power of inspiration — that unseen force which calls humanity to reach beyond comfort and toward meaning. To him, works like Moulin Rouge and Jesus Christ Superstar are not mere entertainment; they are acts of worship, embodiments of art’s highest calling: to make the invisible visible, and to transform feeling into something eternal. Through them, he sees how performance can become prayer, and how beauty — when sincere — becomes a mirror of the divine.

Throughout history, many have been moved in similar ways by art that dares to blend the sacred and the sensual. The great composer Johann Sebastian Bach, for instance, considered every note he wrote an offering to God — Soli Deo Gloria, “to the glory of God alone.” Yet his music also delighted kings and commoners alike, merging devotion with delight. So too do Moulin Rouge and Jesus Christ Superstar stand as modern expressions of that same impulse — to weave together love, faith, and art into one tapestry of human transcendence.

From Brosnan’s reflection we may draw a lesson as enduring as the works he admires: that art has the power to restore the weary spirit and remind us who we are. In a world often dulled by cynicism and noise, we must still seek the inspirational, wherever it hides — in song, in cinema, in faith, in love. We must allow beauty to move us, to soften our hearts and sharpen our purpose.

Therefore, let us live as those ancient seekers of light once lived — open to wonder, ready to be transformed. Watch films that stir your heart. Read words that ignite your soul. Let inspiration shape not only what you create, but who you become. For as Pierce Brosnan reminds us through his quiet reverence, when art awakens the divine within us — when we find in it something “inspirational” — we are not merely entertained; we are renewed. And that renewal, born of beauty, is one of the highest blessings this mortal life can offer.