2. I caught the film last night.
3. Here are some thoughts.
4. Stylistically the film is best described as an extended lingerie advert.
5. Judi Dench has apparently mastered the technique of shout-sing. She'd make a decent Al Jolson if ever given the opportunity.
6. Actors not stars. Daniel Day-Lewis is inch-perfect as the egotistical director Guido Contini. However something felt missing: he is credible but not charismatic. I could believe that this man was adored by women; I just didn't care. To be fair, there's not much to care about. The character is rich, handsome, successful, bags a series of glamour pusses and whose only problem seems to be a touch of writer's block. Not one for bleeding hearts.
Charisma is really his only redeeming feature and I suspect (and it is merely suspicion - I've never seen the stage show) that this is partly a problem of moving from stage to screen. It's much easier to get caught up in the sheer charisma of an actor on stage. If they're good, a musical performer can sing and dance their way into the audience's appreciation whatever the character. Screen charisma is something else, not always determined by talent. Daniel Day-Lewis is one of the finest screen actors. My feeling is that this part doesn't require an actor; it needs a star.
7. Stars not dancers. Where's the dancing? OK, there's quite a bit. But there's nothing that really strikes you with its physicality (with the possible exception of Marion Cottilard's "Take It All"). There's no routine which makes you say, "Wow! I didn't know the human body could do that". As I recall, I didn't care greatly for Chicago but at least there were some stunning dancers (mostly in the chorus) who were given the chance to shine. As much as I enjoyed Kate Hudson wiggling I can't help feeling that some of the chorines would have made a better fist of it. A film musical needs dancers even more than it needs stars.
8. Augmented theatre. With the exception of Guido's final song, all the numbers are set in his memory or imagination. So whenever the music cues, we generally cut from the story to a number set in the film's sound stage. The cut isn't really the problem (although I suspect, again, this is something that works more effectively on stage). The real problem is the sound stage, which is essentially a cavernous theatrical stage. So instead of eight dancers draping their legs over bits of furniture, we get eighty. Instead of a two-tiered stage, we get multi-storey scaffolding. Instead of the romantic lighting effect of a few dozen candles, we get a few thousand.
Sometimes these are good effects. But Guido's character is an obsessive film director. He eats, sleeps, drinks, thinks, dreams in film. The musical numbers, above all, should be filmic. Setting them in a big space with spotlights and half-finished sets and lots of well-spaced dancers doesn't really make this an imagination on film. Rather it is theatre augmented.
9. Redemption through Art. What does Guido want? Ostensibly it is to finish the film. What he really wants is a kind of redemption or, at least, the forgiveness of his wife, Luisa, whom he has wronged. At the end of the story, with his creative forces exhausted and unable to complete his film, he becomes a recluse, grows a beard and watches the world go by. A couple of years later his friend and long-term costume designer, Lilli, tracks him down. She reminds him of all the people he has touched through his films and encourages him to return to his film making. The final scene shows him in the studio making a film about a man trying to win back his wife. Meanwhile Luisa sneeks onto the set unseen. She sees Guido at work and smiles.
This is bunk. Artists tend to have a very high regard for Art and I think it catches them out sometimes. Guido is a monster. The story here is trying to redeem him merely by the fact that he's a great artist. Any amount of cruel and narcissistic behaviour is apparently forgivable as long as you can make a great movie.
Well, I'm not buying it. It doesn't happen in any other profession. We don't forgive plumbers their infedility on account of their copper pipework. We don't give a moral carte blanche to accountants who never misplace a decimal point. What makes the artist so special?
Ultimately I suspect that's why the film, despite the extensive lingerie and a galaxy of star names, never really became the hit in the way that Chicago was. For the non-artist, there's limited appeal. Nine is basically Sunday in the Park with George in frilly knickers.
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