I have to say that I dozed off a bit during the 9 songs recorded live at a concert because, with one exception, a simple piano solo, it is just not my kind of music anymore. I don't mean that the music is poor, only that I can't tell whether it's any good or not.

About half the movie is shot at a concert. The other half sketches in a brief relationship between a Londoner and a visiting American student. The episodes involving the couple are little slices of life with many fades to black, many cuts that seem arbitrary, and some visual and narrative allusions to Antarctica, the significance of which escapes me. Unless, and I hate to suggest this, the significance is unthinkably banal: humans are emotionally frigid and driven by natural forces, like icebergs.

The Londoner (O'Brian) seems like a nice-enough ordinary guy. The young woman (Stilly) is drawn from the ranks of models and has features that are plainly attractive, on the cusp of really attractive, and her figure is flawless.

You can't get past mentioning her figure because the viewer gets to see so much of it. That may not be unusual these days, but seeing erections, explicit oral sex, emissions, and actual intercourse in a mainstream movie is a rarity. There simply isn't that much male nudity around. That's okay with me. I don't care one way or the other, but this goes far beyond a glimpse of O'Brian's schlong and reaches a point at which we can tell that O'Brian is definitely not Jewish.

The couple don't do much in their episodes except make love and talk about it in street language. (There is some exchange involving her taking pills too early in the morning but it does not amount to an argument.) Sex isn't so much explored as it is displayed. She puts off committee meetings so they can get it on. He performs cunnilingus, seeming to plunge into her from above, like a diver in search of abalone. He blindfolds her and ties her willing hands to the bed while he goes down on her. She ties HIM to the bed and steps on his chest with high-heeled boots.

Stilly may be acting. You can never tell with women! But O'Brian, although he obviously must know he's on camera, must have studied with Stanislavski. The two of them together constitute a sexual dynamo. When Stilly is not on or under O'Brian she is using a little buzzing toy. O'Brian seems to have a nervous system whose neurons lack any refractory period. She may be voracious but he is a medical miracle.

Although nothing much happens, I didn't find the movie either particularly dull or at all pornographic. The romantic interludes were erotic but might have been more so if we'd known more about the two people we're spying on. Okay. She's a student. But what is she studying? And where? And what drew her to her subject? He seems to work in a geological research lab, but does he like his work? Does he have a family? How do they feel about leaving each other? Anyone's guess is as good as anyone else's, and that's a kind of weakness because if you want to do nothing more than watch two strangers copulate for money you can get that in any skin flick. And ultimately, in every way, this movie is an improvement over that.

In 'the most sexually explicit film in the history of British cinema', as the hype reads, Lisa (Margo Stilley) and Matt (Kieran O'Brien) spend their free time snorting coke, looking rather bored at rock gigs, and boning each other.

Needless to say, there are plenty of moments of graphic nookie between stars Stilley (a little too young and inexperienced to be taking on such a daring film role, maybe) and O'Brien (who, judging by his DVD commentary, seems to have had a whale of a time),lots of rough and ready music footage shot at various London gigs, and some pretentious bilge about life in the Antarctic, all accompanied by a monotonous voice-over.

Is 9 Songs a bona fide work of art, voyeuristic porn masquerading as art, a realistic study of an intimate relationship, an exploitative piece of trash, or a risqué promo for up and coming rock bands? I have no idea: it really is very hard to fathom out what Winterbottom and Co.'s intentions were for making this film, although I'm guessing the real answer is, 'it's whatever you want it to be'.

Viewers will watch 9 Songs for their own personal reasons (to become aroused; for intellectual discussion at dinner parties; as ammunition for attacking liberal types; or just to see what the fuss is about) and enjoy it accordingly. I thought it passed 66 minutes quite painlessly—the action was hot and the music was cool—but for me, perhaps the most interesting thing about 9 Songs is seeing how the film will affect the stars' careers in the long term, and guessing where this whole 'real sex in cinema' trend will end (Brad and Angelina going at it on Screen 1 at the local multiplex?!?!).

The structure of my reviews in IMDb usually begins with a summary of the plot in the first paragraph and my personal opinion in the next one. However, how to summarize "9 Songs" using more than the storyline? A man and a woman meet each other in a rock concert, and along the days they have sex, use drugs and go to rock and roll concerts. Michael Winterbottom, the director of the sensitive "Jude"; the powerful "Welcome to Sarajevo"; the original "I Want You"; the dramatic "Wonderland"; the intelligent "Code 46", among others good movies, seems to have decided to shoot porn. Using and abusing of the unknown actress Margo Stilley, who practices fellatio, masturbation, bondage and explicit sex in front of the camera, the story makes an analogy with the solitude of the Antarctica to give an intellectual appearance to the shallow, pointless and silly screenplay. I expected much more from such a great director, who should know that what happens inside four walls of a bedroom belongs to the lovers. My vote is four.

Title (Brazil): "9 Canções" ("9 Songs")