The Artist, the red-hot Oscar favourite and the unexpected hit at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival, has not received glowing acclaim purely because it is unique and different (it is a black-and-white silent film); but because it is a delightful, beautifully crafted and performed feel-good tale of the intertwining fates of two individuals during the silent to talkie transition at the end of the 1920’s.
The Artist opens in the year 1927, with the charming, talented and exceptionally popular silent film star, George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) attending the premiere of his latest film, A Russian Affiair. Incredibly proud of being a silent actor and of his achievements, Valentin, with his faithful canine in tow, entertains the crowd following the film, but it is outside the theatre, as Valentin is posing for photographs, that his life is changed forever. He is bumped into by one of his many admirers, a young aspiring actress named Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo).
Michel Hazanavicius is clearly a filmmaker with great respect and admiration for silent films and bygone eras, but it was not his intention to replicate the look of films from this pre-sound era. Having his actors use exaggerated theatrical gestures, incorporating some of those old transition techniques, and sparsely using the close-up would not have been a commercially accessible option. Yes, Hazanavicius has made a black-and-white silent film, even utilizing the old 4:3 square ratio, but with polished contemporary photography and editing techniques. Judged on a pure enjoyment level, The Artist is a miraculous achievement. There will be many people who will quickly disregard the film as a gimmick, or be too lazy to give a film that relies on inter-titles a go. The Artist’s plot is easily comprehensible, only uses inter-titles sparingly and is visual cinema (relaying both story and theme solely through its visuals) at its best. This is a film brimming with charm, wit, grace, humour, nostalgia, tragedy and romance. Is it flawless? No. I felt like the film’s melodramatic scenes in the middle are stretched out a bit too far, but I guarantee viewers will be won over by the phenomenal ending, which will fill one with joy.
As expected for a silent film, the accompanying score is essential to its success, and Ludovic Bource has composed an excellent one, taking us through the 100-minute duration with stellar variation of composition. There is also some really clever use of sound (huh?) – you’ll know when you see it – and many allusions to the film’s ‘silence’. Hazanavicius’ direction is impeccable – working with his cinematographer Guillaume Schiffman to calibrate the lighting to convincingly capture the black-and-white look of films from the era (more evident in Valentin’s films than The Artist overall). But, the film’s magic rests with the actors, and thankfully, Schiffman’s use of the close-up ensures they have every opportunity to shine.
The Artist is essential viewing. For many people, it will be the first silent film they have seen in a cinema. It succeeds in evoking nostalgia and bringing a big smile to your face. For such a well-crafted crowd-pleaser such as this, what more do you need? A cute dog, perhaps? Oh right, there is one of them as well.
The Artist is currently playing at Cronulla Cinemas. I rate the film 4 ½ Stars.
