On paper, Rob Marshall’s lavishly-produced musical Nine is a no-brainer for Best Picture contendership at the Oscars: Marshall’s previous musical, Chicago, won the 2002 Oscar for Best Picture, while Marshall himself earned a Best Director nomination. What’s more, the cast boasts a ridiculous fleet of Oscar winners, including Daniel Day-Lewis (for There Will Be Blood and My Left Foot), Marion Cotillard (La vie en rose), Penelope Cruz (Vicky Cristina Barcelona), Judi Dench (Shakespeare in Love), Nicole Kidman (The Hours), and the legendary Sophia Loren (Two Women). If that doesn’t whet the appetite of your inner film-buff, then perhaps the fact that it is a “spiritual remake” of Federico Fellini’s seminal 1962 Italian Neorealist film 8 ½ might.

Nine is no masterpiece, but it is brave, vibrant, and sassy, even if, in offering a bit of something for everyone, it loses focus and is sloppier than it should be. Marshall’s effort is undeniably brave, and in attempting to balance a rendition of the original film’s tone against populist tastes, he could do far worse. If it is relevant at all, I typically despise musicals, but found Nine strangely tolerable: it is sexy, energetic, and gorgeous to look at (in every respect), making its inherent corniness – which is synonymous with most-all musicals - all the more easy to swallow.

The shell plot follows Fellini’s original work; an aging film director named Guido Contini (Day-Lewis) is enduring a personal and professional crisis, for after his last two films flopped, he has been unable to write the script for his upcoming one, while pressure pours in from the film’s crew, such as his costume head Lilli (Dench), and leading lady Claudia (Kidman). Contini has numerous flings despite having a gorgeous wife, Luisa (Cotillard), shacking up with the vivacious but neurotic Carla (Cruz) and a journalist (Hudson). Throughout the film, we meet a spectre of Contini’s mother (Loren), as well as Guido’s younger self.

Those expecting an intellectual interpretation of Fellini’s work might be a tad disappointed, because this is breezier and loftier than many will have expected; the plot is almost an afterthought, and Marshall quite thankfully keeps the pace from sagging by throwing us a song (of which there are about a dozen) just when you’re beginning to think that the drama, no matter how well performed, can’t sustain. There are a few nice references to Fellini’s films, though; the opening scenes as Contini jibes with the press are lovingly rendered in the director’s vein, and a later scene involving the Trevi Fountain quite clearly hearkens to La Dolce Vita, but the messy plot is unmistakable a hurdle, although some might argue that this is the only way to truly represent creative stagnation on screen.

Whether that’s true or not, it does pose one evident problem: it doesn’t allow the actors to breathe, for the narrative is too light on its feet, darting from a sordid encounter with Carla, to the problems with his leading lady, to younger Guido’s encounter with a busty prostitute (Fergie), without tying these threads together or outwardly explaining how they all reflect on his current creative crisis. What Daniel Day-Lewis manages to pull off regardless is impressive, though; he is hardly the musical focus, and it ranks as probably his least engaging performance (through no fault of his own), but he channels the spirit of Marcello Mastroianni well, and absolutely looks the part.

But what about the music? Typically, I’m not a fan of the genre at all, but Nine manages some gleefully jazzy tunes, such as Kate Hudson’s Oscar-worthy “Cinema Italiano”, and the film’s title song “Be Italian”, performed by Fergie. Admittedly, there are several less-than-memorable ones among the dozen-or-so, but Marshall’s direction is assured, the choreography stellar, and the set design dazzling enough to still keep you engaged. As someone who typically finds musicals to be torturous experiences, this critic is genuinely surprised that Nine is not boring, and is in fact strangely enjoyable despite its myriad flaws.

Of course, there is one ace in the hole, and that’s the sheer sexiness of the whole mess, for while Day-Lewis is the only principal male character, there’s plenty to keep men happy who’ve been dragged along by their girlfriends. Penelope Cruz’s raunchy song-and-dance is sure to leave many men red-faced, and whatever you make of Fergie’s pop-music work, her beach scene with a young Guido oozes sex appeal and shows her commanding screen presence. And what else? Judi Dench is welcome as always, and Sophia Loren is perfectly cast as Guido’s mother, while Nicole Kidman’s small role is fun, and Marion Cotillard works well as Guido’s neglected wife.

Ironically, when a film that critics such as I dare to label “Oscar-bait” underwhelms in several regards, it is actually more satisfying in some perverse way. Gone is the pretense and the pomp, and in fact, while Nine is not the cerebral look at the mind of a genius that it was begging to be, it is something far more crowd-pleasing; an unpretentious, loud, flagrantly charismatic, incredibly sexy, if narratively slender film that spoons out solid, if obstructed, acting, with a few catchy tunes and sumptuous production design. Though it neither works entirely as a Neorealist musical, nor as a fluffy dash of escapism, it is easy to admire its carefree outlook, and it is very clear that the cast are enjoying themselves.