Johnny Simmons

Nine, along with The Lovely Bones and Chéri from the unholy trinity of films from 2009 that I liked much more than the most.

    

I don’t find anything inherently dubious in the fact that I liked all three. However, my unreserved love of Nine makes me occasionally question my objectivity, the film was the one I was most excited to see last year in a way I wonder if I willed myself to like it. I’d seen 8 ½ once and my memory of it was not expansive. (like Alvodomar and Bergman, my knowledge of Fellini and other non-English directors is unfortunately sparse). I anticipated Nine because I’d had the Broadway Recording with the delectable Jane Krakowski on repeat ever since I ever found out that there was someone called Maury Yeston and read the book of the musical. From an adaptation perspective (using the musical and not Fellini’s film as the base) Nine is almost blasphemous. The bulk of the score remains (although key numbers are excised) but the screenplay bear little resemblance to the musical’s book. It is such that Nine (the film) most daringly inventive aspect is also its most exasperating.

It’s difficult to parlay my thoughts on Nine into a succinct or comprehensible review without sounding esoteric, supercilious or confused (hence this post). It’s understandable, Nine was notably panned by the majority or “important” people. Not since Le Divorce have I been so dismayed at the critical response to a film (that includes The Lovely Bones, Running with Scissors and Chéri) – incidentally that was another Kate Hudson piece with a cast to salivate over (Naomi Watts, Glenn Close, Leslie Carron, Stockhard Channing, Bebe Neuwirth). Apologies, I’ve digressed. Yes, Nine’s concept is so outlandish that it really is more abstract than realist, I’d even go as far as to approve its intentions and execution as something of an intricate piece of artwork…

Before I continue, though, I must express the slightest bit of confusion. It happened with Burton’s Alice in Wonderland and it happened with Marshall and Nine. Why are directors held accountable for the (perceived) flaws in a screenplay? With Nine the lines are admittedly more blurred. The quasi-reality of Guido’s musical consciousness becomes an enigma – one I’m not sure is the work of Marshall, Tolkin or Minghella (who’s dead and cant’ speak for himself). Perhaps, it’s some odd hybrid of all three. Though structurally Nine is only a distant relative of its stage incarnation (complete with Yeston’s approval, though) one of the things that some forget is that musical wise it’s difficult to make Lilli’s rapturous ode to French coalesce with the pseudo European pop beats of the dancing whores or the delightfully wordy and very Broadway opening number of Guido. In many ways, I expect the stage is kinder – we’d be more willing to accept the disparity in themes there.  Cinema is different. Each song almost exist on different parts of the spectrum and ignoring the exception to the rule – consistency in musical forms is essential to a musical. Nine’s solution (a tentative word choice) lies blatant in the script – ten scenes in the life of a man. With the bulk of the original significance in the actual number 9 out of the film and with the eponymous number oddly absent, it’s any question that the film just wasn’t called Ten. add the eight principal vocalists together with Guido’s younger self and Dante and we’ve acquired the ten most important faces of the film. The bulk of the film occurs in the ten days leading up to the making of it, ten numbers are song: “Ten sequences, each one set in a different period”…

This amidst its supposed cheer (so very deliberate). Nine is not about Guido’s demise but Guido’s eventual epiphany in ten numbers. There is no thread to bind the ten episodes, but the man himself. One of the final shots of Nine is a picture of the actual film’s title card, only this time Guido is making it. Nine (the one we’re watching) is the actual Nine that Guido’s trying to create. Am I being naïve in seeing the film as a literal creation / therapy session for our protagonist? Up until the epilogue with him and Lilli precisely the sort of slightly incongruous, oddly charming, delightfully schizophrenic thing that the “new” Guido would create. Remember, all he can make now is a film about a man trying to win back his wife. Pity may not always lead to love, but it’s close enough and it’s just the sort of thing that Guido would make for Luisa.

Nine is so obviously NOT rooted in reality. Marshall not-so-subtly tells us from the inception. Isn’t it odd that Stephanie – a Vogue reporter that Guido has yet to meet (chronologically at least) appears in the overture which celebrates the women in Guido’s life? The prologue acts as a beginning of our relationship with Nine but it’s all happened before – we’re now getting to see it. Measure it against the second appearance of the ensemble (sans Luisa) and the significance of the roll-call becomes more obvious.

I had a greater respect for seeing Nine this time around. Before it was just thrilling to watch and such, but I found even more method in Marshall’s ostensible madness, amidst the original fun – well as fun as a morose rumination on talent wasted can be. It is such that Daniel Day Lewis’ first impassioned (misguided) plea for world dominance is final look at the completely decadent Guido that is only hinted at. Though it’s still not my favourite actual number (look to Fergie) or my favourite song (look to Nicole); I feel great fondness for that first song. The more I see Nine (and I’ve seen it many times now) the more I come to appreciate his performance. His sensibility is precisely the type we need for Marshall’s concept. It also makes me appreciate the placing of this number as the first song in the musical – we can almost group the songs chronologically. We move from the present – Guido’s “wanting” of appreciation, his “wanting” of pleasure with Carla (which is reciprocated) and Lilli’s “wanting” of the music, the life and the laughter. Lilli yearns for fun in the moment, but she casts the narrative backward. She explicitly warns him not to do that, “That’s death.”, but he’s not known for listening. He’s looking back to Saraghina – already past. Incidentally, Luisa is looking back too, living in Guido’s past (just as Stephanie is, oddly). Guido is a bit like a hollow, albeit affable man. There is nothing to him but his movies. “My husband makes movies.” That’s it. Stephanie is not enticed by Contini, she’s enticed by Contini’s Cinema Italiano. What happens when the talent fades? Even Saraghina’s passionate urging to Be Italian doesn’t tell us much. what is it to be Italian? I don’t think Guido knows either. He isn’t helped by the fact that his mother wonders, “Do you think that so many will love you like I do?” She doesn’t answer, but she thinks no – Guido thinks so too, that’s his problem – he can’t give all of himself because there’s nothing to give.

As we head into the final trio of numbers (the three that resonate the most, despite – or because of – their bleakness) Claudia seems to be looking back but she’s moving forward really. Kidman’s “I’d rather be the man” just might be the most layered line reading of the entire film (in retrospect, her Claudia is the film’s biggest enigma). It’s this time around I notice – for the first time – the potential play on words in “Unusual Way” . Guido has made her whole by making a “hole” in her. An unusual way? Definitely – that’s why she’s moving forward without him, like Luisa. Like Guido too, actually. Guido, the man, is leaving Guido, the artist. He thinks he’s reached the epiphany – he’s wrong. The movie’s not the problem. He is. He’s such a mess of conflicting emotions that he doesn’t realise that he can make this movie – everything he needs is around him. He needs to realise that by making Nine (the movie within the movie) – a bit of catharsis, really. Notice how in that final roll call he looks not once at his supporting cast. He only has eyes for himself (well, the younger incarnation of himself). He’s not necessarily a “better” man – but he has the ability to become a more focused “artist”.

I am curious, though; does Luisa take him back when the film is complete? She’s masochistic enough, probably. The thing is, everyone wants Guido to give them more – they want all of him. What they don’t realise is that he’s giving all that he has to give. Nine came off to many as cloying, turgid, uninspired and [insert negative adjective]. I’m the opposite. For me it’s difficult to separate Nine from its protagonist. I love it for that. Am I the only one?

When A Room With A View closes and we segue into the ending – unlike anything Forster had written – I’ll admit, I get a little happy. I’m always wont to call myself a cynic, I usually am, but I can’t deny that Lucy Honeychurch’s happiness makes me just (vicariously, of course) as pleased. It’s one of the reasons I don’t read A Room With A View in its entirety, even though I’m sensitive to the fact that a happy ending makes us lose Forster’s point – but so be it. It’s a little similar to my response to Atonement’s end, so I guess I’m really an idealist at heart.

I wonder if there’s some point that on all three of Merchant Ivory’s Oscar bids they lost to films that were more (broadly at least) male centred. Truth is, I’d have given The Age of Innocence the win in the last bid, but Scorsese’s tempered piece wasn’t even in the running. It’s not that Merchant Ivory is women based, regardless of how much I adore film books will always be my first love and it’s in this same way that Merchant Ivory is not for everyone. Of course, neither Platoon, Schindler’s List or Unforgiven are films for everyone but easily – the audience base is wider. A Room With A View, like so many of Forster’s works, examines the issue of class divisions in England but unlike a certain other class division piece A Room With A View is definitely milder – not for the worst, though. The film concerns…

A Room With A View stars Maggie Smith in a register she’s particularly used to playing, and yet her Charlotte is not a lazy characterisation...and Helena Bonham Carter as Lucy Honeychurch is lovely...it's her second film so she's not as developed as she was in the nineties but as Jose says...Her Lucy's combination of sexual awakening and innocence is delightful and sweeping. You can't put it any better than that. She's so lovely and she's only a part of the excellent cast. Denholm Elliot and Julian Sands are good as is Daniel Day Lewis and Judi Dench is small but fulfilling roles - before they became legends of the trade. I don't know why A Room With A View isn't remembered just a little more, it's such an excellent piece and it's so much fun....but not in the way you'd expect. It's thoroughly British and thoroughly entertaining and #13 on my list of favourites...What do you think of it?

When I became au fait with the internet, and the large backlog of arguments concerning the Academy Awards “horrible” decisions Shakespeare in Love was one of the films that always popped up. Its name preceded it, and I didn’t see it until I could carefully explicate all the arguments against its shocking Best Picture. I had seen both Saving Private Ryan (which it “robbed” of Best Picture) and Elizabeth (which it “robbed” of Best Actress). So I saw it. As a staunch Cate Blanchett fan I was still convinced that she was incomparable as the Queen (more deserving than Palthrow who was admittedly excellent, too) but I was nonplussed as to the arguments bemoaning its Best Picture win. For, when it comes down to the argument as to which film deserved the Oscar in 1998 – I am firmly in the Shakespeare in Love camp. You can quote me.

The romantic comedy – the phrase is indicative of so much today. Even though other genres (example, drama) still manage to mete out a good romance every now and then, the good and original romantic comedy has become less and less and common. Shakespeare in Love is often referred to as another billowing period piece that Oscar fell in love with, and I’m always bewildered as to the claim. If American Beauty represents the recent Oscar flick most in tune with the time it represents, Shakespeare in Love represents the most irreverently out of its time and yet still within; a paradox of course. We’ve all been forced (I was willing, though) to study Shakespeare and the connotations of any Shakespeare play are obvious. The usual words – boring, cumbersome, indolent etc. What Shakespeare in Love does (and good grief, it does it excellently) is take the man we’ve become so remiss about and turn him into something that is in keeping with its time, but still accessible to our time and all without being anachronistic. Take away the corsets, take away the Queen – and Shakespeare in Love is still a completely enjoyable romantic comedy; but one with brains. This is because of the excellent script by Marc Norman and Tom Stoppard. I am hard-pressed to find any Best Picture winner in the last two (even three) decades that is as highly quotable, and not just because of the references to “Romeo & Juliet”. Norman and Stoppard are able to do something that would sound blasphemous; they mix their own prose with that of the Bard and makes it sound just as excellent. Their imagination is expansive as they use Shakespeare’s own quotable quotes as incidental conversation. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s not just they who makes the film works, it’s the actors.

                   

I recently cited Shakespeare in Love as having the best ensemble cast of nineties, and it’s a claim I believe wholeheartedly. Just as Shakespeare gave the smallest character a host of witticisms, the writers here do the same. Geoffrey Rush, Tom Wilkinson and Ben Affleck are stuck with roles that shouldn’t be so good, but the great words coupled with their complete understanding of their characters (the tics Wilkinson adds to his money lender are amazing) are thrilling to behold. Colin Firth has never been so despicable (not even in that other Best Picture winner) and Judi Dench in a matter of scenes creates a character to be extolled. I’m perfectly fine with her Oscar win. She deserves it only for her line reading of “Mr. Tilney have a care with my name. You’ll wear it out.” But it’s more than her line readings, she shows emotion in her character when you least expect, and it’s not jarring just authentic. If I must speak of the (supporting) cast of Shakespeare in Love I must pinpoint Imelda Staunton who has unfortunately turned into a forgotten character. It’s (arguably) the smartest allusive move from Stoppard. Imelda scintillates in each of her scenes, and she is given as much importance (and humour) as the original Nurse of "Romeo & Juliet" was given. Still, of course, these excellent players are only incidental when we come to the root of the film – William and Viola.

               

Yes, I do believe that Cate should have won the Oscar, but that doesn’t make Gwyneth’s contribution any less excellent. For an actor who’s always thrived on the (sometimes annoyingly) subtle, Gwyneth evokes a memory of old Hollywood with distinct ease here. Am I the only one reminded of ladies like Katharine Hepburn, Irene Dunne or Rosalind Russell in their youth? As Viola skips through the film, changing from male to female and back again, you can’t help but be arrested by her. Her innocence is her key to the role as we notice how her voice breaks just a little as she asks “Are you – are you Master Shakespeare?” or the profundity with which she utters those lovely monologues or the newer lines like “This isn’t life, Will. It’s a stolen season.” True, you can see her ACTING sometimes, but it works in context because Viola is a mere player, and she’s so honest that you can’t help but be charmed. Still, no one comes close in skilful excellence to the eponymous Shakespeare. I have a longstanding bone with the Academy because of their egregious snub of Fiennes who gave one of the best performances of the decade. The film depends completely on his performance. He knows to play the comedy, even the slapstick portions. However, he also knows to rein it in for the quieter moments. His moments with Gwyneth never come off as ordinary –  even though it should be clichéd...(and about that sex scene...) More than anyone in the cast, he knows how to use those lines to his benefits and he gives the best reading of lines in the film. ‘Tis a pity we’ve not been privy to more of him on the screen.

 

In the end Shakespeare in Love represents one of the most enjoyable films I’ve seen (Oscar winning or not). It’s smart, funny, romantic and just beautiful to watch and it does it all without pandering to stupidity or being condescending to the audience. Would I call it perfection? I don’t know. Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I call it, it’s still #28 on my list of favourites and it’s still exceptional. Or do you disagree?

         

Walk the Line, Ali, and The Aviator were all critically acclaimed films that were also huge blockbusters. Major movie stars that happen to be at the peak their career headline stories about entertainers and public figures who are just as dynamic, and they become films that everyone puts on their must-see list. But this list highlights four great biopics that you may have missed, or just forgotten about. They deserve to be seen, too.

      

 Jimmy Stewart famously depicted Charles Lindbergh in this 1957 film directed by Billy Wilder. In the movie, Lindbergh prepares for and flies across the Atlantic in his plane, "Spirit of St. Louis," as he struggles with technical problems and his own faith. Recent movies like Aviator and Amelia may have better cinematography for up-in-the-air shots, but this is a classic movie that Stewart takes to another level.

    

The Last Emperor 

This 1987 film deals with the story of the last emperor of China, Puyi, and it is directed by Bernardo Bertolucci, who won an Academy Award for the movie. While China has a reputation for banning movies and propaganda that it believes undermine the integrity of the country, Bertolucci was granted official permission to film inside The Forbidden City. The Last Emperor earned nine total Academy Awards, an Oscar for every category in which it was entered.

       

Marion Cotillard won an Oscar for La Vie en Rose in 2009, but the French-language film was still not a blockbuster hit in the United States. Cotillard played legendary singer Edith Piaf, who was one of the most popular entertainers in France, especially during World War II. The young and graceful Marion Cotillard transformed herself into a rough, sad and often crude woman in a film that is supremely emotional and colorful.

           

Hollywood loves making movies about English aristocracy, and films like Elizabeth, The Queen, The Other Boleyn Girl and The Duchess have all starred famous actresses and performed well at the box office. The 1997 film directed by John Madden Mrs. Brown stars Judi Dench -- who has appeared in other English royalty films -- as Queen Victoria during her grieving widow years. As she befriends a Scottish houseman, Queen Victoria emerges from her isolation and learns how to live and rule again. The film was nominated for two Oscars, and won numerous other awards, including two BAFTAS and a Golden Globe.

             

I resent the current state of affairs that made me wary about seeing Nine. Sure, I’m not one to quake and  I do often go against the crowd – just see my reviews of The Lovely Bones and Up in the Air and you’ll get the picture. It’s probably because 8½ was everyone’s drawing board for reviewing Nine, one of those timeless classic – yadda, yadda ya. Truthfully I’m not too fond of 8½. Granted, I’ve seen it once but other than a lovely Anouk Aimee I wasn’t too invested. Then there’s the fact that other than the visual parallels (which are admittedly milked too much) I never thought Nine was an adaptation of 8½ anyways. It’s like criticising West Side Story for not being faithful to Romeo & Juliet. It isn’t. It’s based on a Broadway play in turn inspired by Romeo & Juliet. The same goes for Nine. But I don’t want to start this out as a defence. I’m too prone to rebuttal and we can’t all like the same things – still, this was putting me in a bit of a quandary. I’m  experiencing the critical version of Guido I suppose, I’m suffering from a block. So – instead of a review - a list!

                   

I WORSHIPPED – the music. Naturally. I like Maury Yeston, he’s a poor man’s Stephen Sondheim , yes, and Nine is his piece de resistance. It’s a shame that some of my favourites were cut but each of the ten songs is beautiful to me. Even "Folies Bergeres" which always irritated me from the Broadway Cast sounds lovely here.                 

I ADORED – Carla and Luisa and Claudia. They’re the three women most important and I suppose each is perfectly cast. Certainly Marion Cotillard is the best, but Penelope is not  that far behind. She’s no worse than the company she keeps in that Oscar nominated batch, I only hope StinkyLulu has a space for me in his smackdown so I can salvage the imminent 2s and 3s she’ll be getting. Claudia was never a big role, but don’t tell Nicole that – she plays it like a lead, and that’s what any Diva does. She sings "Unusual Way" in an alto which is more haunting that Laura Benanti’s mellifluous soprano.

                       

I LOVED – "Be Italian". I’m glad they took out the line "Be Italian" you rapscallion and vocally Fergie is the best Saraghina I’ve heard and she’s easy on the eyes.

             

I GREATLY APPRECIATED – all things technical. Lighting, cinematography, costumes, hair and makeup and set design were all splendid.

           

I LIKED VERY VERY MUCH – Judi and Daniel. I’m probably alone on both counts. "Guido’s Song" just may be my favourite number and I just love how Daniel enunciates his words. When he sings "I Can’t Make This Movie" I wondered how anyone could doubt him… and Judi, darling Lilli Judi is great, as per usual. People recognise Streep isn’t doing her best work but love her nevertheless. It’s a shame the same can’t be said for Judi. She’s awesome, I like her French.

                             

I LIKED (with slight reservations) – Sophia and Kate. I like "Cinema Italiano", so I won’t go there. Stephanie is superfluous, but I can see what they were aiming at. Sophia just has to look majestic and Italian, and of course she does. I would have preferred if she’d actually song the song "Nine", but "Guarda La Luna" is a pretty number.

               

I DISLIKED – the cutting of "Simple". I know, songs will be cut (see above) but Carla needed an emotional number, it’s a pity they wanted to turn her into comic relief only.

                       

I DID NOT APPRECIATE – the story. The runtime is standard for a film, but it all flies by and so much more could have been addressed. The subplot of Guido’s childhood could have been explored so much more and though “The Bells of St. Sebastian” is not my favourite number it is necessary, though I suppose it is more of a “stage” number.

I UNDERSTOOD (but did not love) – Marshall’s approach. It’s not just Chicago redux, you can’t sing a number like "Folies Bergeres" in real time, it’s obviously fantastical. His attempts at making Nine a literal world of Guido is obvious, but more could have been done to focus on his indecisivenes and his growth as a man - sans women.

                    

I’m alone for the most part, but what’s new? Nine is imperfect, but it is inspired. I’m waiting for Marshall’s next musical since this is not the film from Hell that it’s been touted as and though he needs to bring all his talents together I know he can make something excellent in the future. His problem is not that he's a bad director, his problem is that he doesn't know to combine his talents. My prayers are with him, I hope the backlash doesn’t destroy his career.