REVIEW: "NINE"

NINE
Nine is half the movie you hoped it would be, half the movie you dreaded it would be. What did you want?? To swoon at the beauty of the Italian locations, be blown away by Daniel Day Lewis's latest thespian high-wire act, applaud the twelve musical numbers arranged by the guy who gave you Chicago, and, let's face it, see if all these famous people would A) give competent or better vocal performances or B) bellow and bleat like dying animals. And, in it's glorious first fifty minutes, the film totally delivers. We are introduced to (friggin' deep breath) Guido Contini (Lewis, turning in a nicely shaded, if not earth-shaking performance, sporting a competent tenor) , the inspiration starved director, his costume designer Lilly (Judi Dench, a sassy wonder with a decent alto), his late Mama (Sophia Loren, whose stylish screen presence makes up for her nip-and-tucked facial features and husky singing voice), his mistress, Carla (Penelope Cruz, sexy, with a purring soprano that could hold its own in a piano bar), a whore who haunts his memories (Fergie, who does come-on carnality well, but you already knew that), a flirty American journalist (Kate Hudson, hot as the month of August and a Broadway-worthy belter), and his sweet, wounded wife Luisa (Marion Cotillard, best in show) in a flurry of spangly songs, drool-worthy costumes and witty dialogues. Fellini, who directed 8 1/2, upon which the musical that this film was adapted from is based on (got that?), would be proud. A few special shout-outs are necessary here; Marshall gives the film a fantastic prologue featuring all the leading ladies, devises brilliant jungle-gym choreography for the famous "Guido's Song", imbues Fergie's number with a fiercely erotic flair worthy of Chicago, and then smartly steps back and leaves Cotillard alone onstage to do her thing. Cotillard, whose lack of English-language mastery I bitched about when reviewing Public Enemies , is now not just comfortable with said mode of speech; she is a master, turning in a performance as grabbing and heart-breaking as her Oscar-winning one in La Vie En Rose. But oh snap. We've reached the second half, where the film becomes what you feared; an aimless excuse for a lot of famous people to prance about looking lovely. Nicole Kidman is introduced as an actress, and she looks lost-rightfully so. The movie has re-jiggled the structure of the stage show and original film, and she no longer fits in. But she's there, because that lady who was so hot in Moulin Rouge sells tickets, dammit. Having established all these characters, Marshall doesn't really know what to do with them. They all yell at Lewis alot and look luxurious sitting next to pretty scenery and feel awful but don't sing about it, because there's apparently some unwritten rule that each actress is only allowed one number. Songs are cut-off awkwardly mid-sentence, as if the editor just wanted to get this whole thing over with. Guido's crucial final epiphany, the thing he's supposed to be building towards throughout the past 90 minutes, comes off as murky. A film's message. Murky. Not good. Nine had some similar issues onstage. Perhaps this is the best film that could've been made of what is ultimately a very average stage musical, and I guess it's appropriate for a movie about searching for elusive meaning that I don't know quite what to think. I'm dissappointed and fulfilled all at once. I so thoroughly enjoyed the first half of the film, and found a little to like in the second (Hudson's runway strut, mainly), that I'll leave it at this; it's a movie about a Roman Catholic. So perhaps it's appropriate that it's best enjoyed with the spirit of forgiveness in mind. B-
PS. When you're making a musical called Nine, cutting the musical number "Nine" that fills you in on the movies title is probably not the best idea. Upon my exit, I heard someone say matter-of-factly, "it's the number of girls in the movie, stupid." There are seven. I'm losing my faith in humanity, people.

BEST OF THE NOUGHTIES (00'S): MUSIC

Not sure if you've heard, but the decade's almost over. As has been the case with art over the years, this was a decade where the best was better than ever before, and the worse even more stunningly godawful. So, three lists over the next three days. We begin with Music. We'll continue with film. Then we'll end on a third list topic that will probably come to my head whilst I go on the 800-hour trek with my parents to reclaiming my newly repaired car (I'll write a post on my wreck when I can address it with something resembling sanity).
BEST ALBUMS OF THE DECADE:
10. Late Registration-Kanye West: Look, I hate the guy too. But yet when he's at the mike, he unleashes a breathless flurry of lean, clever hip-hop couplets that remind the listener that rap CAN be a perfectly valid art form. I want to punch him in the FACE. I want to shake his hand and congratulate him. I want to CUT him. I want to gush like a little fangirl about the inspired slice of ego-tripping funk that is "Touch the Sky", the scathing social commentary of "Gold Digger", the larger-than-life masterpiece that is "Diamonds from Sierra Leone" (which is so badass and delectably dangerous, it could be a James Bond theme like the song it samples), his flawless transition from melody to spoken word and back again on "Hey Mama" (one of the more emotional rap tracks out there). I want his career to end, for him to get his comeuppance...but, considering how desperately the music scene needs original artists with artistic visions to match their commercial clout, imma let him finish.
9. Next To Normal-Cast Album: "Broadway" rock is often a synonym for zzzzzzzzBORRRINGzzzzzzz. Not this show. It keeps what's great about "real" rock-the unfiltered emotion, the robust melodies-and adds to that the gravity and grace of the theatre. Songs like "I Am The One" and "Superboy and the Invisible Girl" are transporting pieces of harmonic heaven all by themselves. Add the story behind them-the tragic tale of a bipolar mother in modern America-and you've got the most dynamic score written for the theatre this decade.
8.Lord of the Rings: Return of the King-Soundtrack: In a decade where the great cinematic composers, from John Williams to James Horner, just started repeating themselves, Howard Shore created a trio of indelible scores for the much-loved epic fantasy films. The first two scores are brilliant, but play like five-finger exercises compared to this one. Listen to "Minas Tirith", which starts off with a keening crescendo of mounting dread, then explodes into an all-out action piece, bursting with militant urgency until...it becomes a goosebump-inducing choral solo. All this in three minutes. Even if you haven't watched the film, you're guaranteed to cry by the final strains of the mournful, majestic closer "Into the West" (featuring appropriately ethereal vocals by Annie Lennox). A stand-alone orchestral masterpiece in its own right.
7. My One and Only Thrill-Melody Gardot: While everyone from Diana Krall to Queen Latifah (?!) put out albums packed with old-time standards, a sunglasses lovin', guitar strummin' youngun named Melody Gardot was busy inventing new ones. Though, as of now, no one but Gardot has sung "The Rain", "Lover Undercover", or "If the Stars Were Mine"-not that I'm complaining, I could listen to that supple, sultry voice forever and ever-but the strength of their lyrics and their shimmering, evocative melodies assures that they will be covered for years to come-perhaps the greatest compliment an artist can be paid.
6. White Blood Cells-White Stripes: Yeah, yeah, yeah, everyone's favorite country-tinged-bluesy garage band with lyrics nonsensical enough to give Dr. Seuss a run for his money cranked out another masterpiece this decade, the knockout Elephant. But while it's also a glorious collection of rock stompers, it didn't have quite the devil-may-care brilliance of this record, a gritty, loud howl breaking the dull hum of what now passes for rock. In a decade where that genre found itself watered down by Disney and overdone by a hoard of screamo sensations, the Stripes gave us a pretension-free reminder that, when done right, the glorious release produced by wailing guitars and shout-out-loud choruses can sometime be no less then sheer bliss.
5. Love Is The Answer-Barbra Streisand: I'm the biggest Barbra Streisand fan in the world. Even I must admit she's made some boo-boo's lately. From her godawful foray in country (!) in the late 90's to her 2005 bring-disco-back CD (!!) to her Christmas Memories debacle...who wants an album full of Christmas chestnuts from the world's most successful Jew?! (!!!!!!!!!!!!) She'd cheated us Streiso-phytes out of a truly great album thus far this decade. My heart was breaking. But, in the final months of these 10 years, she delivered. There's nothing truly exceptional about the material here; it's the usual Streisand hodgepodge of smartly arranged covers and dug-up oddities. What is mind-blowing is the way she handles said material. No one can interpret a song like Streisand, wring from it every last drop of emotional depth. She's in perfect control here, knowing when to hold back-her heartbreaking rendition of "If You Go Away" finds her pleading to a lost lover in a throaty, raw whisper that's all the more affecting because it's what we don't expect-and when to let loose (Every Barbra album has one good Belt-That-Fucker-Out! song. "Make Someone Happy" more than fits the bill.) This isn't a groundbreaker. This isn't a game changer. It's simply the greatest traditional vocalist alive today, proving without a question she's still relevant, still in peak form, and still touched by God. *END BARBRA WORSHIP*
4. Detours-Sheryl Crowe: Not the best decade for Lil Miss Crowe. For she got dumped by her man, 9 billion-time Tour de France win Lance Armstrong. Then her party, the Democrats, get pwned in two consecutive elections. She was pissed so she went and wrote some songs. They are the best she's ever written. We see a side of this surprisingly versatile songwriter we never have before-she has a knack for writing diamond-sharp, angry songs that resonate in your gut even while you tap your foot and sing along. "Gasoline" is the protest song of the decade, an absurdist blues-rock anthem that imagines a future of oil induced rioting. In "Shine Over Babylon", she spends four cathartic minutes putting the blame on everyone from oil drillers to businessman who "Go up and hand ya/the very thing that should've damned ya." But even when deal with her typical topic, love, Crowe is breaking new artistic ground-there's an ache in "Drunk With the Thought of You" that provokes an emotional response her earlier work never did. The first cut wasn't the deepest for this wounded chanteuse-here she goes deeper than ever before, slicing open our country and examining the damaged contents with awesome results.
3. Back to Black-Amy Winehouse: Make fun of her all you want, but she cranked out the most flat-out fun album of the last 10 years. Singing in a distinctive, alluring croon, she relays her tales of lovers, liars, failures drunks, and whores-music's 5 great subjects-with a refreshing vulnerability and an acid sense of humour (one word: "fuckery"). No matter what becomes of Madam Beehive's troubled personal life, songs like "Rehab" and "Back to Black" will always be landmarks of edgy, conked-out bliss. Being bad never sounded so good.
2. Magic-Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band-Try though they may, no one's ever quite matched the Boss's lyrical prowess. In his trademark spare, stunning couplets, Springsteen can paint a portrait of a dead solider ("Speculators make their money/on the blood you shed/Mama's pulled the sheets up off your bed"), extol the beauty of small town America ("A kids rubber ball smacks/Off the gutter 'neath the lamp light"), and, as always, write about women like nobody's business ("The dust of civilizations/And loves sweet remains/Slip off of your fingers".) The band is as tight as ever, and some of the best hooks in the history of rock music appear here (good luck getting "Livin' in the Future" out of your head. Seriously. Try.), but the great pleasure of this album is seeing that America's vocal poet, far from shrinking into irrelevance, is aging with the sharpness and strength of a good wine.
1. Extraordinary Machine-Fiona Apple: How do you earn the title Album of the Decade? Well, producing one of the all-time best albums of original thought sure helps. While Fiona had written some very strong stuff prior to this release ("Sleep to Dream", "Paper Bag"), this was the one where she truly found her voice, and, by God, used it. This album is an explosion of passion, pain, joy, wit, and sheer ingenuity. This is the kind of music you just let wash over you. I envy those who have yet to listen to "Get Him Back" and the inspired four-minutes that is "Tymps (The Sick in the Head Song)", and how their minds will be blown when they experience such genius. But at the same time, I could listen to "Extraordinary Machine" a thousand times and find new things to love about it each listen. "Not About Love" and "Window" are post-breakup songs that roil with a righteous rage that has to come straight from the heart-where else could such superb work come from? Oh, and then there's "Please Please Please", where she rides a percussion-heavy earworm of a hook while diagnosing the malady of our world with the succinct, says-it-all refrain "Keep us steady...steady goin' nowhere". Fiona writes THAT kind of song, the kind that Michael Jackson or Joni Mitchell or Ray Charles wrote-the kind you live inside. I dunno what defines a great album, but this is one. Period. The end.
SONGS OF THE DECADE:
10. "London Skies", Jamie Cullum
9. "Chasing Pavements", Adele
8. "Killing the Blues", Robert Plant and Allison Krauss
7. "Your Heart Is As Black As Night", Melody Gardot/"If You Go Away", Barbra Streisand
6. "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing", Jack Johnson
5. "Gold Digger", Kanye West
4. "You'll Be Coming Down", Bruce Springsteen
3. "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It"), Beyonce
2. "Tymps (The Sick in the Head Song)", Fiona Apple
1. "Rehab"-Amy Winehouse