Spineless

Nine is a shoddy musical, but that's not its biggest problem. No, the big problem is that director Rob Marshall lacks the courage of his convictions.

Musicals are hardly the most fashionable things on the Hollywood screen of late. Despite the critical and commercial successes of Chicago, Sweeney Todd and even Moulin Rouge, we're still in an age where the teenage boy (or, at least, the studio's view of a certain type of teenage boy) still is the only demographic served by big-budget Hollywood cinema.

So it's great that any musicals get made at all. However it can't be too much like a musical. In Rob Marshall's world, musical numbers are interrupted by dialogue. All musical numbers are presented through the trope of a dream sequence or, at least, an unadventurous theatrical staging. We can't have them as anything interesting. They are also sexualised to the point of banality. You have to make a concession to the boys, after all.

Julie Andrews would be turning in her grave, if she were dead. And this might well just kill her. It says a lot that West End musicals are booming. Singstar is a new way of life to others. People want to see this stuff. I want to see this stuff.