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The movie follows arrogant, self-centered movie director Guido Contini who is struggling to find harmony in his professional and personal lives, while balancing the numerous women in his life including his wife, his mistress, his film star muse, his confidant and costume designer, an American fashion journalist, the whore from his youth and his mother.
Day-Lewis, over-egging the angst as well as the Eye-talian accent, is charmless and insufferable. But the person you really want to slap is Marshall, whose brash directing style simply doesn't suit Nine's more whimsical charms.
What we get is a film that is close in story to Fellini's film, but which needed more time for its actresses and better music to make it all worthwhile.
Largely, the numbers just sit on top of the dramatic action, adding little to our understanding of the characters and seldom contributing to the advancement of the story.
Nine is, if not a grand work, terrifically tasty eye and ear candy. Two numbers -- from somewhat unexpected quarters -- are worth the price of admission alone.