With no fewer than three cineplex attractions with the number nine in their titles this year, the moviegoing world seems to be at sixes and sevens.
Let me break it down for you:
District 9 is the flick that uses “prawns” as a metaphor for apartheid. (After seeing it, I’ll never eat seafood again.)
9 is the one with various sock puppets battling it out until you want to sock ’em in the googly eyes.
And Nine is the upcoming Rob Marshall-directed musical based on the Broadway show based on Fellini’s 8 1/2, so I guess it’s a half notch better than an art film.
Already, there’s been massive confusion over all this numerological mayhem. One poster on a Broadway board said he ran to see Nine, excited to get an early peak at the splashy musical. As the film opened on a futuristic wasteland, he thought, “Rob Marshall has really gone out on a limb. He’s out Fellinied Fellini.” But by time he spotted “a Gumby-like figure being chased by a futuristic monster,” the poor guy knew it wasn’t Daniel Day-Lewis and Penelope Cruz. It was 9.
Having sat through 9, I can tell you to avoid it like the plague and save your 12.