Nine Makes Being Italian a Joy
I’m not entirely sure it was ever a good idea to transform Federico Fellini’s 8 ½ into a Broadway musical, but that’s exactly what happened back in 1982. The show, Nine, did relatively well, and while comparisons to the legendary film were hardly flattering the fact the maestro himself approved shows just how well Arthur Kopit and Maury Yeston did in bringing it to the stage.
Fergie (center) takes the stage in The Weinstein Company's Nine
Almost three decades later director Rob Marshall (Dreamgirls), working from a script co-written by the late Anthony Minghella (The English Patient, Cold Mountain), has brought Nine back to life, the echoes of Fellini’s legendary masterwork hovering just outside the frame. While I can’t say how it compares to its Broadway counterpart, as a companion piece to 8 ½ the movie is an energetic success, and while it obviously can’t craft the same magical spell as its Italian counterpart as an invigorating musical dancing to its own tune this film is the director’s finest hour since Chicago.
The movie concerns itself with the personal and professional travails of Guido Conti (Daniel Day-Lewis), a director at a loss as to how to begin his latest project juggling loving wife Luisa (Marion Cotillard) with sensual mistress Carla (Penélope Cruz) while silently hoping muse Claudia (Nicole Kidman) can provide him with needed inspiration. Added to the mix are visions of his long-dead mother (Sophia Loren), the pesky feminine wiles of Vanity Fair reporter Stephanie (Kate Hudson) and the paternal advice of his trusted and sarcastic fashion designer Lilli (Judi Dench), each woman adding complications the filmmaker would rather not think about.
You either get lost in Nine right from the start or you don’t, and if the latter is what happens prepare for a very long two hours wanting to be anywhere other than your theatre seat. Thankfully, I had the former reaction to Marshall’s film, easily getting swept inside its Cinemascope fever dreams with barely any effort at all. I loved how the musical numbers exploded inside of Guido’s psyche, each of them having a cinematic pizzazz showing exactly what it must be like to reside within the character’s brainpan.
Still, movies about the making of movies can get a little tiresome at times and this one is no exception. Unlike the glorious original, this one works worst when it actually concerns itself with behind-the-scenes antics preventing Guido from finishing his script. I didn’t have any interest in the whining of the producer or of the director shuffling around his unfinished sets. These moments didn’t pop off the screen, didn’t feel organic, and other than a spellbinding sequence inside a screening room looking at test footage these portions attracted me the least.
Where I was fascinated were the sections when Marshall and company turned their attention to Guido and his women, and as where this is where the bulk of the movie is focused to say I had a grand time would be a glorious understatement. Where it excels best are moments with both Cruz and Cotillard, each woman so beyond extraordinary I couldn’t help but wish there was more of the both of them. Not only do the actresses sing beautifully, their performances are so three-dimensional they transform into their respective characters, both Luisa and Carla indelible, vixen-like creatures of lust, longing and love falling head over heels for them is an absolute breeze.
Day-Lewis is very good here yet I wouldn’t go so far to say this is close to his finest hour. It takes him a little while to fully tap into Guido, but when he ultimately does the actor does so with patented fearless abandon. As for the rest of the women, I adored Kidman’s brief cameo, her song ripping my heart in two and reminding me just how much I adored Moulin Rouge. Dench is also quite wonderful, while Fergie stops things cold with a sizzling musical number that’s easily the film’s highpoint. As for both Loren and Hudson both are just fine, yet as neither has all that much to do to say either registers all that much would be a somewhat disappointing understatement.
As with any musical endeavor the technical side of the coin is unavoidable, and on that front Nine doesn’t just rise to the occasion it blows past it with joyous abandon. Dion Beebe’s (Land of the Lost) shimmering cinematography flashes between pixilated black and white and vibrant Technicolor with ease, John Myhre’s (Wanted) flashily simple production design the ideal counterpoint to the camera’s rhapsodic whiz-bang. As for Academy Award-winner Colleen Atwood’s (Public Enemies) costumes the superlatives I could send her way are without measure, her work sure to garner the woman an Oscar nomination and maybe even a third win.
The more I think about Nine the more I find myself loving it. The film spoke to me, and not once sitting in my seat did I feel like I was watching anything less then a wondrous effort I would return to again. Marshall is invigorated by the piece, and while he can’t quite achieve Fellini-like magnificence the truth of the matter is he doesn't need to. All he had to do was entertain and for my part that’s exactly what he did, urging others to take the time to go be Italian as easy that proverbial pie.
Film Rating: êêê (out of 4)
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