Sometimes I feel as though Tim Burton doesn't know when to leave well enough alone.Don't get me wrong; the director's original fare is brilliant 90 percent of the time. However, when Burton gets his hands on someone else's brainchild, it seems, that more often than not, his resulting interpretation is a Planet of the Apes-sized mess. And while I wouldn't go so far as to say that Burton's work with 9-his latest cinematic ward-has resulted in an unrecognizable disaster, it's safe to say the aforementioned film would have been better off left in the care of its original writer and director, Shane Acker.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the origins of 9, the movie currently in theaters is an extended version of an 11-minute short film released by Acker in 2005 that details the travails of two "stitchpunks" (i.e. animated dolls infused with the souls of men) as they fight a mysterious mechanical beast in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. After watching the short film online, I am not surprised by the fact that Burton was so impressed with the production that he wanted to expand upon it. However, part of the reason that the original 9 works is that it leaves much to the imagination-there is no backstory nor any explanation for how the world ended, and the result is that the audience members are left to ask themselves whether our current world could become Acker's future one.

But, seeing as how the new 9 is approximately an hour longer than its parent film, it must have seemed necessary to include the two aforementioned plot points, and it is these forced additions that are the movie's downfall; over the course of Burton's 9, we are introduced to the stitchpunks' creator, a scientist also responsible for creating the mechanical "brain" that seeks to destroy its burlap brothers and sisters. Essentially, the scientist created the stitchpunks to salvage what is left of humanity following the death of man. However, this portion of the narrative leads to all kinds of complications; for one, why create sentient beings to salvage humanity when humanity in its entirety is dead? Further, by the film's conclusion, you're wondering why humankind could not accomplish what the stitchpunks ultimately end up doing. The plot feels as contrived and artificial as the machines pursuing the man-made protagonists.

It should also be noted that the original 9 was devoid of dialogue; according to the new film's production notes, Acker "wanted to depict [the character 9] empathetically, without dialogue. This way, the short film could be universal and accessible, while also challenging the audience to piece the details together in order to understand the whole. [Acker] thought that would make for a rewarding film going experience, especially in animated form." And Acker was right. Whereas in the short film the stitchpunks are silent and more spiritlike, giving the impression of being superior entities capable of taking over where humans left off, the chattering stitchpunks of the extended 9 are too much like their predecessors. To elaborate: At one point in the film, one of the nine stitchpunks speaks of how another "got what he deserved" for seeking knowledge, and it's like watching the re-emergence of the human race in the midst of the Middle Ages. The stitchpunks do not inspire faith, and while some of them do redeem themselves by the film's conclusion, the audience is still wondering by said conclusion (a) why the stitchpunks should even exist and (b) why their fate will be any better than that of humans their essences come from.

The feature-length film also feels as though it is torn between two ideologies; while the simplicity of Acker's 9 invited questions and let the audience decide for itself the film's implications, the new work strives to deliver some kind of greater message. This wouldn't be such a horrible thing, except the movie's makers aren't really sure whether their message is pro-technology or pro-religion. For instance, the film's main antagonist (the "brain" machine) is described as a technological advancement capable of creating other machines in its own image, and its handiwork offers up stitchpunks as though they were sacrifices. However the stitchpunks themselves are religious; stitchpunk 1 is dressed like a bishop for a good portion of the film, and the other stitchpunks perform religiously oriented funeral services. So what are the creators trying to tell us?

I place the blame for these mixed messages on Burton and screenwriter Pamela Pettler, who was recruited by the director to work with Acker on 9's expansion. Pettler, who also wrote portions of Corpse Bride and Monster House, had an extensive role in developing the key concepts of the new 9, and I have to wonder how much her meddling in Acker's vision had to do with the film's mixed messages.

On the positive side, 9 certainly looks nice. However, computer animation is no longer a new technology, and a film employing this medium can no longer skate by on appearances alone. The character design, though, is worthy of praise; the monsters of Acker's world are genuinely frightening, and several of the film's scenes are quite striking (e.g., the brain machine using the bones of men to make new machines).

Unfortunately, the eventual result is a post-apocalyptic tale that is not only not "your little brother's animated film" but also probably not your cup of tea, either.