Nine.

Now there's a terrible film.

Me and Orson Welles was quite bad but this completely trumps it.

Nine wants to be Chicago but sadly has neither the plot nor the (relatively) brilliant songs to make it so.

Instead it has a thin plot. Thin to anorexic. A ponderous point to make - which many might feel isn't really worth making. And a collection of weird and quite terrible songs which often bear little relationship to the plot but are justified by a wistful expression crossing the relevant character's face so you know they're thinking about Something Important. And suddenly you cut to a weird terrible song.

In the midst of this, you have a collection of actors that could only be described as stellar. Judi. Sophia. Marion. Nicole. Penelope. Fergie (?). Kate (??). And Daniel Day Lewis is really quite hot - but the film was so poor that I almost didn't care.

It's a dreadful waste of talent. And it has a peculiar effect. Each performance is pretty universally excellent. There are some very lavishly accomplished song and dance routines (and some song and dance routines which verge on soft porn). Daniel is particularly marvellous. But the whole is so much less than the sum of its part that I, at least, ceased to notice individual excellence for squirming at the horror of it in my seat.

I'd be interested in the opinions of others as I was particularly foul tempered when I sat down to view it.

But as the credits started to roll at our particular showing, Mother leaned back in her seat and murmured softly and reverentially: "excellent!" So for the sake of not ruining her moment (I still haven't forgiven Siobhan for her American Beauty disdain), I kept my views to myself.