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Glenn Close and Dakota Fanning as mother and daughter

In the final act Garcia gives us Maggie (Glenn Close) and her daughter Maria (Dakota Fanning), engrossed in easy and tender conversation during a graveside picnic. Both actors inhabit and imbue the scene with understated grace.

There are few obvious connections between the nine lives in the film, at least circumstantially. In fact, the stories are so complete unto themselves that the odd time a character does overlap (Sandra's prison guard is Holly's stepfather, for example), the connection is more distracting than cohesive. That Garcia manages to give us such distinct and engrossing characters in each story is a filmmaking triumph, but it also asks a lot of the viewer. We've just settled into one world and we're jolted into another—nine times.

Occasionally I found myself longing for some plot development or the articulation of an idea that would tie all of the chapters of Nine Lives together. Yet I was ultimately frustrated by the film's few attempts to express an overt overarching philosophy. Henry offers up some folk-wisdom about the connection between all people, Maria asks about the nine lives of a cat, Maggie affirms that "we all go on"—but none of these larger statements ring as true as the smaller, more nuanced moments that make each scene so believable. It's tempting to say that Garcia—the son of acclaimed Columbian novelist Gabriel Garcia Marquez (One Hundred Years of Solitude, Love in the Time of Cholera)—is a better storyteller than he is a philosophy teacher. And yet I suspect there is plenty of philosophy seeping through the stories that Garcia tells. There is an abundance of tension, conflict, resilience, sexual attraction and familial love in the nine lives Garcia offers for our inspection. But in all of the film's ultra-natural dialogue, there is a distinct void of anything super-natural—of any suggestion that there is help or hope beyond our own wills and choices. Such an ideology leaves a reviewer with my bent toward faith in a quandary. Here is a film chock full of astonishing performances, inventive cinematography and superbly crafted writing. It is, in a word, transcendent. And yet it leaves me dissatisfied because I suspect it aims to tell me that there is no transcendence at all, only a reality exclusively of our own making.

Watching Nine Lives had me tense, engaged, sometimes disgusted, sometimes moved, and always interested. It reminded me of a collection of Flannery O'Connor short stories I keep around to read when I'm feeling brave. Like O'Connor, Garcia possesses a rare gift for developing character in a concise and economical way, the courage to look life's darker realities square in the eye, and an ability to find something of the spirit even in the midst of pain. But where the spirit O'Connor finds is holy, Garcia's is human. He's an ingenious and eloquent storyteller. But he leaves me wanting more.

Note: This film is showing in limited theaters from Oct. 14-27, but will expand to more on Oct. 28. For a list of screenings, check the official website.

1. Samantha chooses to stay home and help her parents rather than go to college. Is she making the right decision? How do you balance personal calling and family obligations?
   
   
2. Holly's boyfriend discloses an abortion and refers to it as the "right decision," and yet it is clearly a source of deep wounding and tension for the couple. Do you think a relationship can survive an event like that? What do you think it would take for Holly and Martin to move on?
   
   
3. Damian tells his old flame "We will always be Damian and Diana." Do you believe that certain people are fated or ordained to be together?
   
   

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