Performing Gender and Defying Norms: Postmodern Feminism in Baz Luhrmann’s Red Curtain Trilogy

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Baz Luhrmann’s Red Curtain Trilogy—Strictly Ballroom (1992), Romeo + Juliet (1996), and Moulin Rouge! (2001)—is an explosion of color, drama, and defiance. Beneath the glitter and spectacle lies something far more radical: a cinematic interrogation of gender, power, and performance. Each film takes a wrecking ball to societal expectations, queering our gaze and challenging what is “normal.”

Through camp, theatricality, and postmodern flair, Luhrmann invites viewers into alternate realities where gender is performed, norms are blurred, and subversion becomes survival. And as Judith Butler reminds us, “gender is not a noun”—it’s a cultural act, shaped by power and historical context. Luhrmann’s films don’t just portray that—they revel in it.

Postmodernism and Gender Play: Butler on the Big Screen

Among the trilogy’s many shared motifs—gender norms, marriage expectations, theatricality, and non-conformity—postmodernism is the spine. Luhrmann distorts realism and embraces artifice to expose the constructed nature of identity. Butler’s concept of gender performativity comes to life here: identity is not something we are, but something we do, within the constraints of societal power.

As Butler writes, “This utopian notion of a sexuality freed from heterosexual constructs… fails to acknowledge the ways in which power relations continue to construct sexuality for women” (2006, p. 41). In Romeo + Juliet, this tension is embodied by Mercutio—unapologetically queer, donned in drag at a church party, delivering Shakespeare with camp and sparkle. The audience is not asked to mock him or pity him; we’re drawn into his charisma. It’s a rare moment where queerness exists without punishment.

But, as Butler cautions, even these moments exist within the web of power: “If sexuality is culturally constructed… then the postulation of a normative sexuality ‘beyond’ power is a politically impracticable dream” (2006, p. 42). Luhrmann doesn’t escape this trap—no one does—but he dares to dwell within it. His characters resist, bend, and rework the very norms that cage them.

Strictly Ballroom: Dancing with Patriarchy

Set in 1980s Australia’s ballroom dance scene, Strictly Ballroom presents a world policed by glitter, footwork, and patriarchal tradition. Barry Fife, the self-important President of the Federation, is the gatekeeper of normativity. His rigid rules reflect the larger societal pressures that dictate what counts as “acceptable” masculinity and femininity.

Enter Fran, a young dancer who defies the ideal of beauty imposed by the male gaze. She isn’t glamorized; she’s real. In this way, Fran mirrors the onscreen image of Judy Garland—a woman who, while not a pinup, was deeply beloved. Fran’s romance isn’t about trapping a man with looks, but earning trust through vulnerability and confidence. Beauvoir argued that women are taught to see themselves as objects to be chosen. Fran flips this dynamic—she chooses, and she dares to lead.

Moulin Rouge!: The Glittering Power of Queer Survival

In Moulin Rouge!, the world is divided: outside the club, women are expected to be demure and pure; inside, they weaponize beauty and desire for power, survival, and solidarity. Satine, a courtesan and performer, is both idolized and objectified, empowered and trapped.

Luhrmann doesn’t erase this tension—he amplifies it. Sex workers, often relegated to tragic side plots or moral cautionary tales, become the heart of the story. They are allowed dreams, failures, and humanity. In a cinematic tradition that either punishes or erases queer and marginalized figures, Luhrmann places them front and center.

This postmodern utopia, where sex workers and queer characters hold narrative power, isn’t escapism—it’s resistance. And yet, even in the fantasy of Montmartre, patriarchy looms. The club’s owner, Harold, and the wealthy patrons dictate survival. Freedom is conditional. Love is a negotiation.

Performing Gender in Context: Three Settings, Three Systems

What makes Luhrmann’s feminist potential especially rich is how he sets each film within distinct cultural and temporal frameworks. Gender norms don’t operate in a vacuum—they mutate with time, place, and politics. As Butler reminds us, “Gender is… performativity produced and compelled by the regulatory practices of gender coherence” (2006, p. 34).

In Strictly Ballroom, gender is governed by institutional rules. The male dancer must lead, the female must follow, and beauty is a ticket to power. But Fran cracks the code with unorthodox style and personal conviction.
Romeo + Juliet reimagines Shakespeare’s patriarchal tragedy in the neon-lit 1990s. Though queerness and race go oddly unremarked upon, gender still serves as a site of violence and control. Juliet is still her father’s pawn, and Romeo’s masculinity is validated only through aggression.
Moulin Rouge! straddles two worlds: the glittering, transgressive cabaret and the stifling morality of 19th-century Paris. Here, gender is both a weapon and a cage. Women seduce to survive, but love is policed by class and power.

Patriarchy in Technicolor

Though Luhrmann’s films burst with color and sound, they do not obscure the quiet violence of patriarchy. Each film presents a system where women and queer people find small cracks to breathe, dance, or fall in love—but never without consequence.

Butler writes, “The notion of a universal patriarchy… fails to account for the workings of gender oppression in the concrete cultural contexts in which it exists” (2006, p. 5). That’s exactly what these films dramatize. Each setting—whether a ballroom, a beach, or a bohemian club—reveals patriarchy’s different masks. Sometimes it’s a dance judge. Sometimes a father. Sometimes a duke in a fancy top hat.

What unites Luhrmann’s trilogy is its insistence on showing how these systems are performative too—costumes worn by those in power to maintain their control.

Final Thoughts: Camp as Critique, Glitter as Resistance

Baz Luhrmann doesn’t preach. He dazzles. But embedded within his glitzy spectacle is a sharp critique of gender, power, and identity. He gives us characters who live at the margins—who fight, love, and perform in ways that challenge what we think is “normal.”

His films, like Butler’s theory, remind us that identity is never fixed—it’s enacted. And through that enactment, resistance becomes possible. In a world that demands coherence and conformity, Luhrmann’s characters choose camp, chaos, and choreography. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where liberation begins.