I am having the worst run with movies lately. Last week I took myself to see Nine, potential Oscar nominee, full of Oscar winners actors (Daniel Day-Lewis, Penelope Cruz, Nicole Kidman, Marion Cotillard et al), sounds good doesn’t it?
Well it wasn’t. It was a great big load of crap. Catherine Zeta Jones must be thanking her lucky stars that she pulled out of it. Who knew Catherine was so perceptive?
But Nine did give me an idea. This is what I am going to do. I am going to drink a bottle of champagne, smoke some mind altering drugs and then write down anything that comes into my head. The end product will be my screenplay. I am going to call it Eleven (because Nine and Ten are already taken), post it off to Harvey Weinstein in Hollywood and make millions of dollars. Never mind that Eleven will make sense to nobody because a coherent plot is clearly no longer essential to movie making.
Don’t think I’m joking because this is obviously how the plot for Nine was developed (and yes I know it is based on a Broadway musical). And the songs–they were just stupid. They sounded like they were rhymed by kindergarten children. Oh they hurt my ears. And what they prattled on about could have been said in two sentences. Yes,yes I know it was a musical but the songs were gratuitous.
My husband asked me what the movie was about. “Stuffed if I know,” I said.
Nine out of 100, that’s my rating. Two hours of my life that I won’t get back. Don’t even wait for the video, wait till it’s on commercial tv.
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