Guido Contini (Daniel Day-Lewis) is a movie director who lives an italian lifestyle of luxurious clichés, and wanders too often through his restless imagination – the refuge of a man trapped by his own lies. He’s surrounded by seven charismatic and sublime women: his mother (Sophia Loren), his wife (Marion Cotillard), his mistress (Penélope Cruz), a prostitute (Fergie), a friend (Judi Dench), his muse (Nicole Kidman) and a reporter (Kate Hudson). He is also going through a crisis – he has nothing left to say.
With a cast like this, one would think that Rob Marshall (the director of the acclaimed musical Chicago) would allow these actors to do what they know best. However every time they try to act, an apparently random song forces its way into the scene, and through its pointlessness leaves no room for a good script. Nine does wonders to your senses but insults reason.
Marshall managed to make a musical ignoring the basic principal of cinema – telling a story. In musicals, the songs are a way to communicate and help developing the storyline. Yet in Nine – apart from Guido and Luisa Contini’s numbers – they come out of nowhere and proceed with no reason whatsoever in a visual and musical frenzy that lacks in relevance.
Yes, the songs will stay with you for weeks, the actors’ performances are flawless, and it is a visual feast. But there is nothing more to it. Rob Marshall’s talent to create the most dashing spectacle makes watching Nine truly frustrating, for all its beauty is nothing but an empty shell that the actors seem to so desperately try to fill.
