Review

Review Date: 27-December-09
Spoiler Rating: Low
Juju Judgment: Junk

Nine (2009)

I assume the title of this movie-turned-Broadway-musical-turned-big-screen-extravaganza refers to the number of muses, ancient Greek goddesses who inspired artists in their work. Why, then, are there only seven female characters in the film? I keep feeling annoyed by this although it is only one of the movie's problems.

The artist at the center of this deficient nonet is Guido Contini, an Italian filmmaker in the 1960s. He is played by Daniel Day-Lewis, the sole member of the all-singing, all-gorgeous cast not required to flaunt some T&A. Contini needs a hit to restore himself to maestro status, but with shooting ready to begin on his next picture he lacks even an idea for a script. He suffers from anxiety and insomnia, symptoms of writer's block, a mid-life crisis, and the aftereffects of being a putz.

The main problem with Nine is that there isn't any reason to care about Contini or his suffering. (Sorry, being Italian and an artist does not suffice.) The dated premise is that the self-serving man-child is forced to grow up after experiences (new or recollected) with the pivotal women in his life. Most of them represent feminine archetypes and seem superior to him, yet for some reason they love him and have put up with his crap. I suppose one can forgive his mother (Sophia Loren) for having an interest, although she does so from the grave so he might be making it up. As a boy he paid a whore (Fergie) to teach him about amore, so she has her reasons, as does the swinging American reporter with a jones for European style (Kate Hudson). The motives for devotion are less clear for his costume designer (Judi Dench), a stolid friend and advisor; his mistress (Penélope Cruz), an emotionally fragile sex kitten; and his leading lady (Nicole Kidman), whose appearance feels tacked-on but who has the sense to suggest that the notion of a man needing muses is bunk. Images of these women flit across the sound stage of Contini's mind in spangly but otherwise dull song-and-dance routines. Woe to the musical that does not have a single show-stopper.

The real jewel among the dazzling distaff display is Marion Cotillard. As Contini's wife, she occupies the most incomprehensible role and faces the challenge of steering the wronged angel away from the path of shrew or martyr. Cotillard graces every movie she is in, good or bad, so she makes some of the age-old wifely pain hit home. Contini forgets her birthday while canoodling with his mistress, Contini made her give up a promising career, Contini sucks her dry with his neediness … if Nine could have accomplished one meaningful evolution, it would have been getting this lovely creature away from her tormentor. But it seems the whole point of the picture is helping him find his way back to her. What a disappointment. Maybe Contini only has seven muses because the other two, like yours truly, do not think him worth their time.

Copyright © 2009 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.