Hollywood loves a remake; pre-existing audience, proven seat-filler, can you hear the cash registers ching-chining? So when Rob Marshall came with a screen version of a musical remake, they must have been tumbling over themselves.

Back in 1963, Italian film legend, Frederico Fellini made one of the great iconic films, 8 1/2. Fellini was already a huge star after painting the cool images of Rome we all know today, Vespas whirring past the Forum, buxom blonde in the Trevi Fountain, espressos in slick cafes. He was desperate for a new film but had a severe case of writer’s block. The result was 8 1/2, the autobiographical story of a film director looking to the women in his life for inspiration.

In 1982, a musical version of the uber-cool film hit Broadway and was a hit. It only took 28 years for Hollywood to decide to have a go.

The director, Guido, as in the film, is looking back into his life at the seven women who moulded and shaped him, who love him and who he loves. The film centres around the seven songs they sing and the two Guido sings – giving us the nine of the title.

Nine is like a study entitled Women in the Mind of the Catholic Male. There are only two types of Eve-sisters; whores and angels.

The angels are of course, his mama and his wife, plus the sexless older woman. Every other woman is just a variation  of whore. We have the tragic whore (Penelope Cruz), the brazen whore (Kate Hudson), the wannabe whore (Nicole Kidman) and the paid whore (Fergie).

Surrounded by this motley crew of gorgeous, but needy, women is poor Guido who is trying to satisfy all of these needy women but just can’t do it. He’s only a man after all.

For all of this annoying malarky, Nine is entertaining enough. Park your politics, and feminist thoughts, at the door and you have a mediocre film saved by two things that I never thought would go well together: Daniel Day-Lewis and Fergie. They never appear on-screen together but they are the best things in this film.

A special mention must go to Marion Cotillard who, as Guido’s wife, could so easily have been a winsome, pitiful character but who, it turns out, is the holder of Guido’s balls. She’s his backbone, artistically and emotionally. As you watch this self-obsessed man question where his inspiration is going to come from, you feel like shouting, “your wife, your wife. Check out your wife!”

And my is Guido self-obsessed. At one stage he sings “Guido, I’m sick of Guido”. I hear that, man. Had he been played by a lesser actor than our Daniel, Nine would’ve been an intolerable case of musical masturbation. Nine is Daniel Day-Lewis’ film. He’s in every scene and he manages to make the annoying sympathetic.

The musical interludes are hit and miss. Both Marion and Nicole Kidman can sing but their songs are pants, although Marion does have an excellent musical moment at the end. The other actors are having a romp and loving it. Penelope Cruz is sexing it up so much it’s camp, Kate Hudson sings a go-go number and disappears and Judi Dench ramps up the showtune-ness to the max. It’s Fergie, though who steals the show without uttering a word. She plays the prostitute Guido knew as a child and is dripping with sad, steely sexuality. Her number Be Italian is the stand-out.

The main problem with Nine is that you’re not going to be tapping your feet. You’ll be drooling at the women and questioning just how possible it is to get your leg into that position while wearing nothing but stockings and a garter-belt. Other than that, Nine is utterly forgettable.