"Nine"

For film director Guido Contini (Daniel Day-Lewis) the line between fantasy and real life has become so blurred it's practically non-existant. As he drifts through the jet-set scene in 1965 Rome, his past, his present and his fantasy life swirl around him like the constant cloud of cigarette smoke in which he's cocooned himself. His late mother (Sophia Loren) is just as much a part of his reality as his disillusioned wife, Luisa (Marion Cotillard), and his overeager mistress, Carla (Penelope Cruz), and his goddessy leading lady/muse, Claudia (Nicole Kidman). Caught up in his own hype and crushed by the pressure of creating something new, Guido has become the star of his own psychosexual cabaret -- and it's about time he cleaned up his act.

Directed by Rob Marshall ("Chicago"), "Nine" is a eye-filling, somewhat loose adaptation of the 1982 Broadway musical inspired by Federico Fellini's 1963 film "8½." Fellini served up surrealistic scenarios that left viewers' heads buzzing; Marshall dishes out sexy song-and-dance segments that will send 'em running to the nearest cold shower. Problematic and uneven as a character study, "Nine" functions best as a racy variety show (each of Guido's women gets her own number, except for Luisa, who gets two) with Guido as the somewhat mystified master of ceremonies. Guido's faithful costume designer and surrogate nanny Lilli (Judi Dench) serves as the stage manager, while American fashion journalist Stephanie (Kate Hudson) plays the part of the alluring chorus girl who can't wait to jump on the casting couch.

Guido bounces pinball-like between the various ladies in his life -- stopping off along the way to revisit the blowsy/brassy prostitute (Fergie) who gave him his first lessons in love -- while trying to come up with some sort of a viable idea for the new film he's supposed to start shooting in a few days' time. It's pointless to ask why a studio would green-light a movie with no script; Guido, we are regularly reminded, is a genius whose producers encourage him to "write with your camera." Apparently, artistic self-indulgence was not only accepted in 1960s Italy, it was bankrolled.

Given that Marshall has staged most of the musical interludes on the soundstage of Fellini's famous Cinecitta Studios, it's a bit bewildering that he doesn't show any real evidence of Guido's much-celebrated work. About the closest we get to understanding what the Contini catalog contains is Stephanie's tribute to him, "Cinema Italiano," in which she adoringly oozes praise for his directorial style. "I love the speedy little cars, the hip coffee bars, the sleek women in Positano," she wails. "Guido's the ultimate oumo Romano!"

As far as his creative vision is concerned, we'll have to take her word for it. But if we're talking about the ultimate Romeo, well, Guido can definitely qualify as a contender. Although he claims to want to be a faithful husband, he can't seem to cut Carla loose, he aggressively flirts with Stephanie and he obviously entertains fantasies about Claudia in his spare time. If the movie had been 10 minutes longer, perhaps he would have finally gotten around to seducing Lilli as well.

By pushing Guido's carnal urges to the forefront and leaving us in the dark about his skill as a filmmaker, screenwriters Michael Tolkin and the late Anthony Minghella have handed Day-Lewis a character that's difficult to truly like, much less identify with. Guido spends most of the movie trying to dodge his responsibilities and commitments: He runs away from the set; he leaves Luisa to suffer in solitude; he sneaks away from Carla when she's at her most vulnerable, etc. He's not so much a man of action as a man of evasion, and after a while that becomes rather wearying to watch, even though Day-Lewis often finds the comic possibilities in Guido's muddled morality.

"Nine" has also deleted all but two of Guido's songs, which makes little sense since Day-Lewis proves to be a capable enough vocalist and, in the stage version, those solos supply background information that fill out Guido's psyche. Without them, Guido is almost as much a mystery as his work-in-progress.

Thankfully, the women step in to save the show. Cotillard wrings every possible drop of heartbroken resignation out of "My Husband Makes Movies," in which Luisa tries to justify her position as Guido's cheerleader and companion and, although devotees of the show may be furious Luisa's "Be On Your Own" has been bumped in favor of a new song titled "Take It All," Cotillard delivers the torchy number in scorching style. Kidman's quivery alto gives a sweet sincerity to the gorgeous "Unusual Way," although breaking up the ballad with dialogue nullifies much of its power. Similarly, Loren's lullaby "Guarda La Luna," another piece written for the film, is pretty but feels extraneous.

Fergie lets loose with a full-throttle version of "Be Italian" -- backed up by a troupe of tambourine-shaking tramps -- and Dench, trotting around in a mile-long red feather boa, puts plenty of wry razzle-dazzle into "Folies Bergere."

As for Cruz's rendition of "A Phone Call From the Vatican," it's a gold-plated show-stopper. Sliding down electric-pink curtains, writhing around on a mirrored floor and swinging from ropes, Cruz is both voluptuous, volcanic and the dancing definition of va-va-voom. Sure, it's only a movie, but don't be surprised if you find yourself shouting, "Encore!"