Nine recounts the story of the revered director Guido Contini on the cusp of filming a new movie (and a nervous breakdown). Rob Marshall, of Chicago acclaim, directs this production, taking the musical originally based on Fellini’s 8 ½ from stage to screen. And although the Broadway show won 4 Tony awards, sadly Marshall decided to cut many of the original songs. Nine’s score lacks unforgettable tunes and those that were vaguely memorable (which is not to say I sang them all the way home) were from the stage version. Neither does Nine boast any snappy lyrics – let’s face it, the likes of “Those scenes I love to see/ from Guido’s P.O.V.” don’t quite cut the mustard.

But this isn’t to criticise the performances. The film doesn’t use actors solely for their box-office pulling power, though that’s not to say that Day-Lewis, Kidman, Cruz etc. don’t draw the crowds. But these stars also all sing and dance, not only well, but with passion. Day-Lewis is a convincing Contini, whose breakdown is mirrored by his women problems. But it was difficult to know how we were meant to feel about him: did the unshaven and chain-smoking egomaniac who leaves his wife to sleep with his many muses and spends much of the film wallowing in self-indulgent despair really merit the sympathy we were encouraged to feel? To Day-Lewis’s credit, I felt for his tortured artist – if only a little.

His long-suffering wife on the other hand, expertly played by the wonderful Marion Cotillard, was one of the few characters given the space to really develop. Cotillard conveys a restrained sorrow and easily won the sympathy of the audience for loving a man who, though completely dependent on her, could never love her to the same degree.

The film was replete with Italian stereotypes; Contini had serious mother issues (although if your Mum’s Sophia Loren perhaps it’s excusable) and there was the obligatory bit with the Catholic Church. And stereotypes generally work less well on screen than on stage. The musical, though less explicitly misogynistic than 8 ½, uses the females as mere stock characters and almost all of these are overtly sexual. Even Judi Dench showed her décolletage. And don’t even mention Ms Cruz’s legs – they more than adequately gave a pretty clear picture of the inside of Contini’s head!

Whereas Chicago’s fixed setting allowed the action to switch sleekly from plot to musical number and back to the same location, Nine flits around the country as Contini flees Rome in despair at his director’s block. And this, coupled with the flashbacks to the director’s childhood, makes the film unnecessarily messy.

Well-acted and with Minghella’s solid, though unexciting script, the real letdown is the songs, which we could have simply done without. Mind you, I suppose if the songs didn’t add anything for me I could just watch Fellini’s version, which is exactly what I think I’ll do.