SEAN THORNTON, NINE

A professional boxer retired due to tragedy, Sean seeks retreat and peace. He’s an easy Nine.

The Quiet Man’s story is simple: Irish-American comes to the Old Country to settle and make a new life in his ancestral home. When he sees a lass tending sheep, he falls for her, makes “pattyfingers in the holy water” with her, and arranges to court her. Her belligerent brother keeps them apart over spite about the property, until he consents and later regrets it, holding his sister’s dowry after the marriage. Sean must eventually demand the money and make peace with his brother-in-law, which leads to a town-consuming brawl between the two of them. In the end they live happily ever after.

We hit a wall, though, when we get to the scene of him dragging his wife by the nape of her neck. Is something about this moment particularly Nine-ish? His avoidance of conflict — taking the brother’s verbal ridicule, watching his volatile wife demand her things about her — might lead to a man who’s had enough and overreacts as a result. If he’s driven to take action, though, just give him a different action to take. The key to this whole movie is the moment when Sean pursues his wife to the train station and returns with her to town.

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SHAUN/SHANG-CHI, NINE

Our protagonist, who will become a Marvel superhero in later projects, has a very strict father and a dead mother. (Thanks, Disney, for killing off another mom.) He leaves home in his teens, making a new life in America, and only returns when his father sends goons to attack him and steal his mother’s pendant.

So, strong and self-determined. He sets out with nothing. Of course he’s a physical creature, but, interestingly, I don’t think he’s a Body Type. Until called to fight he shows no interest in physical skills. His father, through abuse, coerces him to train. It’s not really something Shaun seeks from his own sense of self.

What is he, then? First, let me honestly own that I wasn’t impressed with Shaun. He was the weakest link in an otherwise good movie. The actor is wooden, or too stoic to be understood even by a camera, and I had a hard time engaging with his character. He’s not a Body Type, and he certainly isn’t a Head Type. Before his father comes for him, Shaun is a valet driver with little ambition or interest beyond karaoke night with his friend Katy. By default he becomes a Heart Type (or a Null).

I’m wrong.

You know what he is? A badly written Nine. He avoids conflict, which would be a defining trait. He’s a superhero, so they’ve put him in the traditional Nine silo, but given him none of the other characteristics of a Nine. Where is his lazy good humor? Where is his curiosity about people and the world? Where is his drive to maintain his activity level? Where is his diplomacy and righteous judgment? He decides his must kill his father, render a verdict, but it’s all so bland and contrived. It comes from the writers and not from a character drive.

I will call him a Nine, because that’s what the movie expects us to see, but I don’t think the showrunners or the actor have earned the number.

JULIA (1947), NINE

The title’s subject, the Bishop’s wife, Julia is universally loved. Like Mary Bailey, is she an everywoman? Or is she a real person with flaws?

She’s pretty and she’s gentle. She’s socially naive, though. When Dudley takes her to lunch, and the other ladies start to gossip about her, she is unaware. Social damage, to herself and to her prominent husband, is dangerous, yet because her intentions are pure she doesn’t see it.

She’s not particularly useful as a bishop’s wife. The community can look up to her kindness and gentility, but she’s not a saleswoman. Henry carries the whole weight of organizing his fundraiser. She longs for simpler times and a quieter home life. She’s not ambitious, which is a strength, but she’s also not in sync with her husband. She’s lovely, someone who attends functions at Henry’s side, but she’s not the manager.

She’s a Nine. She knows what’s right and she knows what she likes, but she won’t argue with anyone to make it happen. Avoid conflict, smooth the waters, and carry on. A Nine is an asset to an ambitious partner, but only in a background role. No leading, no fighting, and no pushing. It’s a perfect choice for Julia’s character.

GROOT, NINE

His relationship with Rocket indicates he’s a Nine, but let’s look at him in more detail.

Even though he’s a monosyllabic tree, he definitely fits the definition of Body Type. He’s quite competent as a superhero fighter, growing limbs and using his strength. He’s so cheerful about knocking people about with his extra-long arms.

He and Rocket are a symbiotic duo. Groot doesn’t have to be smart; Rocket is the brain. Rocket doesn’t have to be nice; Groot is the diplomat. In real life I’d want to break these two apart so each could grow the weaker side of their personality. Since they’re comic book characters, though, they are wonderful together. They literally speak a language only known to them.

Without this relationship, would I be able to identify Groot’s Enneagram? I doubt it. That they travel together is key. Their interaction is beautifully written and conceived.

MATTHIAS HELVAR, NINE

If Nina is a Four, Matthias is a Nine. That pull these two numbers share, a conflicted romance, is baked in. We can also see his Nine-ness in his skill: big man. He’s no Grisha, no rogue; he’s pure tank.

He’s basically a Hitler youth who grew up to realize the system he was taught as a child was horribly wrong. To go along unquestioning, seeking the camaraderie of the group and avoiding any conflict of dissent, is Nine. To realize the truth, to reexamine his principles, is also Nine. One of the only things that will move a Nine to battle is justice. 

He’s written as stodgy and dense — a bit of a Buzz Lightyear. The joke’s often on him. Underneath, though, he’s a hero in a very traditional sense. He’ll never be the protagonist, as is common for a Nine, yet he has those traits. I think the author could’ve leaned in a little stronger on that aspect. His physicality is given its due, but his innate bravery is turned into comic relief a little too often for my comfort.

MAL ORETSEV, NINE

Mal is a man’s man. He can shoot, he can fight, and he can hunt. Women swoon.

Of course he’s a Nine. Physically, he dominates, even against grisha power. Conflict finds him, not the other way around. He wants a quiet life and ends up at the center of a maelstrom, valiantly heroic.

It also explains his relationship with Alina. He is her Enneagram strength number, she is his weakness number. This is why she’s drawn to him and he shies away from her.

In the first season of the show we don’t see how complicated their relationship is. They’re portrayed as hesitant romantics. In the book, though, they’re much more co-dependent. Because Alina has stuffed her sun summoning power, she’s psychologically and physically harmed. And Mal carries the weight of the trilogy (spoilers, darling), which shapes his character in ways the show has not yet addressed. Like Alina, the book version of him is not as likable. His Nine-ness, his reluctance to engage and shape his destiny, turns to nihilism, and the heroism a Nine carries is more of a burden for him. I like the actor and how he plays Mal; I hope the show can sidestep some of the darker aspects of his arc.

ROBIN HOOD (1991), NINE

My goodness, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves is near unwatchable at this point. I don’t remember it being so horrible when it was released, but it has aged very poorly. The tone is all over the place, from Alan Rickman’s broad comedy as Sheriff, to Morgan Freeman’s limiting Magic Negro trope, Azeem. The editor could’ve made three different movies, I think, out of the footage.

Robin himself may be physically gifted. He’s a decent archer. None of his character, though, follows the trope of Hood as a dominant fighter. The focus is more on his leadership skills, although that’s not clearly defined, either. He has some right and respect as a nobleman, and he mouths platitudes about fighting back, but we see none of this as show. We do see a ragtag band living rough in the woods transformed by Robin into a community. This is one arc for Robin that the story puts on film.

So, the tradition of Robin as a Nine might be broken here. Nothing about him says Body Type. This Robin is also not a strategist. There’s no moment when he stands on a tree limb and taunts the rich while his Merry Men hide in all the right places. All he has is a soft heart, but I’m not sure he’s a Heart Type.

He’s brave. He’s ashamed of his youthful behavior and deeply regretful of how he parted from his father. He’s impulsive, mostly in a good way. When an opportunity occurs, he takes it, such as his opening escape from prison.

Really, he just wants a quiet life with family. I’m going to call him a Nine due to this avoidance of conflict. He’ll fight if he must, but he’d rather sit. I really hate to do it, because the other two Robins I’ve reviewed are such clear examples, and he’s not in their league. But he’s consistent throughout, so there it is.

BRIENNE OF TARTH (BOOK), NINE

She wins the melee tournament, defeating Ser Loras at the end. She’s large, strong, a trained warrior, and ugly. Catelyn pities her for this, but even more for the look Brienne gives Renly when she asks to be named to his honor guard. Young. Naive. A heart to be broken.

It goes without saying that she’s a Body Type. She’s a medieval superhero. To fight this well, especially in an era when every social convention would contradict you, you must need it in your bones. This is a Nine. The strength and competency combined with her personal gentility are the key traits.

Brienne is a wonderful character, and it’s a shame to cut to the chase so soon, but her Enneagram number is easy to spot with only one chapter of information. I am distrustful of George R. R. Martin’s skill in writing women. I have found the main characters — Catelyn, Daenerys, Arya — contradictory and arbitrary at times. I’m going to peg Brienne here, mostly because I don’t trust the rest of the writing about her to be consistent. At this point, she’s very clear.

BRAN STARK (BOOK), NINE

He’s young, and the chapters from his perspective reflect a child’s understanding and interests.

He’s a knight-stan. It’s logical that a youngster in a medieval era would love the warriors and know their names by heart. This child, though, is clearly a Body Type. He climbs because he must.

When he and Robb receive Sansa’s letter proclaiming Ned a traitor, Bran cuts to the chase: Sansa lost her wolf. If the children and their wolves share a bond, then Sansa’s was broken, she was broken, against her will. (Nymeria runs free with Arya’s permission.) What a great insight — and a glimpse of the wisdom Bran will have — as to why Sansa would weaken.

He has a chance to study as a Maester, a vocation he’d excel at, but turns it down. It has no magic, and that’s what he wants. He wants to fly. Again, Body Type. He wants to ride out like Robb and hear the cheering. It’s the image of trotting rather than accolades that moves him. More than his body is broken by the fall. His inner self, his connection to life as a Body Type, is broken. If that can be rebuilt it will take a while.

I don’t think he has the vitality of an Eight. Nine or One? He’s a natural diplomat with no love of accounting. Nine.

THE HOUND (BOOK), NINE

He’s Joffrey’s dog. Mean and biddable. At the beginning he’s just a tool, and that’s how he sees himself. His will is not his own. Just because he’s a servant, though, he’s not a simpleton. He sees The Game around him and understands it. It amuses him. Killing and laughing, really, are the breadth of his range. He’s quite interesting as a character study.

Ah, he’s the first person to challenge Sansa, to point out that she’s a puppet. She has not begun to discover herself but only behaves as she’s been trained. Why does he care enough to confront her with this?

And the story of Sandor’s burning is told to Sansa by him, not by Littlefinger’s gossip, here in the book. Why diminish such a powerful story, such a powerful moment between these characters, by giving this speech away? He threatens her to secrecy later, not that she would tell anyway, afraid possibly at the vulnerability he’s shown. His behavior is a wonderful mystery that makes him very interesting.

When he jumps in at the tournament to rescue Loras from the Mountain he’s magnificent. Brave, obviously, but he’s also a kind of watchman on his brother, who’s a truly evil creature. Stop Gregor from hurting anyone else might be Sandor’s only motto.

Now he’s part of the Kingsguard, standing watch over Joffrey. At the “gnat’s” tournament he takes Sansa’s part, although with a stone face. He won’t hit Sansa, the only guard who isn’t challenged to do so. He doesn’t care about anything, it seems, yet he interjects himself so effortlessly at key moments.

The ironic detachment, the physical competency, the lack of will to create his own destiny — what number? Nine, of course. He avoids conflict by not caring about anything. Only Sansa, through innocence, vulnerability, or naivete, can get him to engage.