9 Songs

When I saw Scorsese's "Last Waltz," I thought that I would never again see a concert film as true. And I haven't, until now.

The Band were the last popular musicians to tell stories, have nearly all those stories be in the third person and tell them without irony. To do this is impossible today, or at least non- commercial. Scorsese is a flawed filmmaker, his flaw being that he is overly invested in character-driven storytelling. The two: Band and Marty, were a perfect mix: cinematic rock. Pure, without that nightmare stew of MTV videos.

Now along comes Winterbottom. Nearly all viewers will be unable to accept a movie with sex in it as anything but a movie about sex. Shame on them. Confront it folks. That's his point: why is it so difficult to accept the difference?

But the hangups of the viewing public are less interesting to me than the way he constructed this experiment. It is a rock concert (with a Nyman interlude). Nine songs, with us participating in the songs themselves, participating in the going to the concerts to listen to the songs, and participating in the experience that the songs are about: namely obsessive sex. And also, remembering (or even inventing the memory of) the sex, drugs and rock and roll we've seen. This latter is done by our hero in Antarctica. He serves as narrator, by the way.

Thankfully, this intense sex avoids the theatrics of "Damage," and works to be as genuine as possible emotionally.

Is it a good movie? Could it change your life? Will it change cinema forever?

Probably yes.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

In 'the most sexually explicit film in the history of British cinema', as the hype reads, Lisa (Margo Stilley) and Matt (Kieran O'Brien) spend their free time snorting coke, looking rather bored at rock gigs, and boning each other.

Needless to say, there are plenty of moments of graphic nookie between stars Stilley (a little too young and inexperienced to be taking on such a daring film role, maybe) and O'Brien (who, judging by his DVD commentary, seems to have had a whale of a time), lots of rough and ready music footage shot at various London gigs, and some pretentious bilge about life in the Antarctic, all accompanied by a monotonous voice-over.

Is 9 Songs a bona fide work of art, voyeuristic porn masquerading as art, a realistic study of an intimate relationship, an exploitative piece of trash, or a risqué promo for up and coming rock bands? I have no idea: it really is very hard to fathom out what Winterbottom and Co.'s intentions were for making this film, although I'm guessing the real answer is, 'it's whatever you want it to be'.

Viewers will watch 9 Songs for their own personal reasons (to become aroused; for intellectual discussion at dinner parties; as ammunition for attacking liberal types; or just to see what the fuss is about) and enjoy it accordingly. I thought it passed 66 minutes quite painlessly—the action was hot and the music was cool—but for me, perhaps the most interesting thing about 9 Songs is seeing how the film will affect the stars' careers in the long term, and guessing where this whole 'real sex in cinema' trend will end (Brad and Angelina going at it on Screen 1 at the local multiplex?!?!).

Saw this 16-09-2004 at the TIFF... While I am an admitted fan of mainstream films that feature explicit sexuality, I was disappointed in this film -- as it stands now. I say "as it stands now" because, although I may be wrong, the film has the feel of an unfinished work. Clocking in at a mere hour and five minutes, however, it still manages to feel long somehow -- essentially, we are watching either one of four types of scene: The lead actor reminiscing about the now-ended affair (from his walking trip of... Antarctica!), the couple attending concerts (always, apparently, at the same venue), the couple cooking and eating, or the couple having sex. There is relatively little dialog. The film feels fragmentary, as the scenes tend to repeat without much of a contextual base; perhaps these scenes are intended to represent the lead characters' memories, implying that we only remember those things that were most important to us from a relationship. The actors are game in their roles, although Ms. Stilley -- who has the long-limbed, small-chested appearance of a runway model -- comes off a bit weaker next to Mr. O'Brien (indeed, this appears to be her first film). I give both actors a lot of credit for baring themselves so unabashedly to the material, but am a bit disappointed that, even though Ms. Stilley has supposedly been offered another role in Mr. Winterbottom's next film, she is said to be "distancing herself" from this picture, apparently especially after her mother in North Carolina was alerted to its graphic nature.

I always try to be as clean from other people's / critics opinion before I go and check out a new film.

With Nine Songs, that is a difficult task, because it is the kind of movie everyone talks about without even seen it.

The story is as simple as it can be. It concentrates on the sexual behavior of the characters to show the birth and death of their relationship. It could have all been told around their meals, or their phone conversations. But Michael

Winterbotom chose their sex life - a quite important subject to every couple's life- to tell it all.

I only want to say that it is quite beautiful. Yes, its only sex, but as real as it can be. There is no intention on making the scenes erotic or pornographic, and the honest intimacy projected, strips down the human nature of the characters to

their very basic instincts.

In the (admittedly unlikely) eventuality that someone wandered into a cinema expecting this to be a musical, a rude shock would ensue, since this is the most sexually explicit mainstream film ever exhibited in Britain. Indeed the only mainstream movie I've previously seen to compare in explicitness was the 1976 Japanese work "Ai No Corrida" ("In the Realm Of The Senses"), but this work goes further with a scene of ejaculation, as well as fellatio, cunnilingus and penetrative sex. Since this is the work of accomplished British director Michael Winterbottom ("In This World"), one cannot possibly regard this is as pornography - besides anything else, porn features far more voluptuous women and portrays the sex from an exclusively male point of view, whereas the sex here is realistic (as well as real) and as female-oriented as much as male.

The problem is that the film appears to be utterly meaningless. A British research geologist Matt (Kieran O'Brien) goes to London gigs and has sex with American student Lisa (Margot Stilley), but there is no characterisation or plot or even a script (the dialogue was improvised and is banal). Even the music seems to bear no relationship to the lovers and - except for some haunting work from Michael Nyman - is dreary gunge. Shot on low budget digital video, the picture is as grey as the subject matter and the only light-hearted aspect is the rather unsubtle joke of the (mercifully short) running time (69 minutes). Come again? No chance.