Gary Dretzka
Leonard Klady
David Poland
Ray Pride

Nine Songs

Michael Winterbotton is like the seasons, ever changing. Who the hell knows what he will do next? And after Nine Songs, one has to wonder whether the effort to keep caring is worthwhile.

The film is not complex. Nine songs photographed at a concert, mostly out of focus and/or without focus. Between each song is a brief exploration of a passing sexual relationship between a hairy man and a lanky woman… both attractive, both naked a lot, both ready to play. Unlike the sex in most of the other movies here at Toronto, the couple genuinely seems to be enjoying themselves. But I've always said, watching someone you don't know having sex is not terribly interesting. Perhaps it can cause arousal for some period, but even that subsides in time.

What is so odd about Nine Songs is that Winterbottom seems terribly concerned about signaling to us that the sex is real. And I'm not sure why. In an intercourse sequence, he keeps returning to a shot of the woman's rear end so that you can see the actual penetration. It's Porn Film 101, but it has no meaning that I can gather in terms of an artistic statement.

I'm sure that someone will come up with a reason to praise this film as brave and innovative. But it will not be me.

- by David Poland

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