You must watch this commercial for Australia (the country, not the Nicole Kidman/Hugh Jackman box-office flop). Mr. Luhrman is famous for directing Moulin Rouge, though you should skip that frantic mashup in favor of the infinitely more awesome Strictly Ballroom. Trust me on this one.

To really see what’s wrong with this commercial, we’ll have to break it down.

It’s a dark and stormy night in Gotham City (or a reasonable fascimile). A man tells an overworked blonde he wants to take a break for a while– over the phone. Classy, Nameless Male Person. The blonde responds by running into the middle of the street sans umbrella, hollering into her cell phone about rearranging the front page (because women can only have high-powered jobs in the magazine industry– am I right, Harlequin Books-of-the-Week?). Here’s where things get weird: the camera zooms in on a muddy footprint– presumably of a creature following the blonde home. I think about five X-Files episodes started like this. Now I’m concerned about the blonde. Run, lady!

The blonde runs into her large, dreary apartment lovingly furnished by the All Beige Decorators of America. (Want a colored throw pillow? Too bad! They won’t allow it. Those Union regulations are no joke.) She calls Nameless Male Person and apologizes for not calling in a while. The conversation is worth repeating in full:

Man: Long day?
Woman: [nervous laughter] It’s not over yet.
Man: It’s never going to change, is it?
Woman: Can we please not have this argument now?
Man: It’s always work.
Woman: What are you saying?
Man: You’re not the same person I fell in love with.

Because  the woman he fell in love with was unemployed? “Remember playing footsie at the Welfare Office? We never do that anymore!” And way to be a jerk over the phone, Nameless Male Person. Maybe if you showed up in person your relationship would go further. Just sayin’. The blonde presses her skinny, pale hand to her forehead in the Universal Gesture of Womanly Despair.

Now it gets creepy again. A child’s voice whispers: “Sometimes, we have to lose ourselves to find ourselves.” Low-level shot of someone’s bare feet walking in the blonde’s apartment oh my god the creature is inside the house RUN BLONDE LADY RUN. It’s too late. She’s lying in bed, eyes closed, deathly pale. The creature reveals itself to be . . . an androgynous child. Androgynous Child leans over the blonde’s pillow and whispers: “Sometimes, you need to go Walkabout.” The blonde opens her eyes.  Now, I’m a New Yorker. If a small, androgynous child broke into my apartment and whispered in my ear, I would a) jump about thirty feet in the air yelling bloody murder and using every karate move known to man, and b) call the police and/or child protective services. This lady, however, just holds out her hand. The Androgynous Child takes it. Ut-oh. Now I’m concerned about the child.

Androgynous Child drops a handful of dirt into the blonde’s hand. Now I’m calling the carpet cleaners in addition to protective services, but the blonde doesn’t seem to mind. Suddenly, there’s water, water everywhere. There’s an underwater shot of the blonde lady swimming that looks a lot like the underwater shots in Jaws. Is the Androgynous Child going to swim up and bite her? But wait! The blonde is not swimming alone! Nameless Male Person is there, too– although his face is incredibly blurry. Very suspicious. The happy couple surface, surrounded by red rocks. Nameless Male Person says: “I’m glad you’re back.”

Shots of red rocks, waterfalls, red rocks, a river, and red rocks. What is this, a Martian spa? Small white text reads: “She arrived as Ms K Matthieson, Executive VP of Sales.” Shot of smiling blonde lady. “She departed as Kate.” Title: AUSTRALIA.

That’s right, ladies! Come to Australia because let’s face it, you’re not getting any younger, and if you don’t get that rock NOW you’re doomed to be MS. Executive VP of Sales forever. You’ll never get an Androgynous Child of your own that way. Don’t you want a Nameless Male Person to belittle you long-distance forever? Of course you do. True, he won’t come over unless you buy him expensive plane tickets halfway around the world, but that’s a small price to pay. Mary says he only wants you for your money, but what does she know? She’s divorced. Take my word for it– you won’t land a man with a fancy career, missy. In fact, if you don’t go to Australia right this minute you might as well kill yourself.

Egads, Baz Luhrman. This kind of thing was unacceptable in the early 80’s, nevermind post-2000. Think before you direct, man!