The Artist

Before being struck by the on-going reign of the ear-treating talkies, silent cinema was the pinnacle of popular entertainment in the 1910s and 1920s. Silent films sent audiences on spellbinding adventures, told them enchanting stories, made them laugh and gasp, gave them heroes, villains and comedy characters, some of whom remain iconic even a century later, all achieved without the audible utterance of a single word. Michael Hazanavicius’ “The Artist” pays tribute to this era not just by being about silent films, but by actually being one of them.

The film, a long-time ambition of the French filmmaker, is filmed entirely in gorgeous black-and-white and presented in the old-school box-shaped aspect ratio. About 99% of its audio and dialogue is entirely muted; any necessary dialogue is presented on-screen via old-fashioned intertitles. The only consistent sound to emit from the film is the lavishly enchanting orchestral score by Ludovic Bource that is reminiscent of silent cinema’s usual scores.

As such, the film presents itself as if it actually sprung from the ‘10s or ‘20s, though not as if we are watching it in the modern day; that would mean the image would be scratched and disfigured. Instead, the image is crisp and sharp, meaning it is as if we, the audience, are an audience from the ‘10s or ‘20s, watching the latest silent picture in a grand theatre, all dressed up fancy and whatnot, in collective awe of the film’s magical majesty – it transports us back to the era of silent cinema, and that, in and of itself, is magical.

The story itself is about silent cinema, or more so the death of silent cinema. Its star is George Valentin, played by a very expressive French actor named Jean Dujardin (“OSS 117: Nest of Spies”). George is a prominent star of silent cinema in 1927; he stars in action/adventure films, in which he always plays the handsome, dashing hero with a winning grin and roguish charm. He’s beloved by worldwide fans, most of whom seem to be squealing ladies; George, a helplessly proud and cocky man, loves the constant attention and adoration he receives.

Little does George know that the era of silent cinema is coming to its end, giving way to the revolution of the talkies; Hollywood’s Golden Age doth approach. Stubborn, George refuses to have anything to do with the supposedly gimmicky movement and decides to remain an actor of silent films. This is a decision that ends up costing him his career; George fades ever more into obscurity as the talkies take over theatres – George Valentin is yesterday’s news.

Meanwhile, Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo, “A Knight’s Tale”) is becoming an international star of talky cinema. Famed for her carefully drawn beauty spot, the young and beautiful starlet once briefly starred alongside George in one of his movies; she acted as an extra with whom George’s character briefly dances on a dance floor – George became captivated, maybe infatuated, by Peppy during the shoot, resulting in several retakes of the sequence.  Now Peppy is today’s news, and down-in-the-dumps George must watch as this no-name extra becomes the celebrated star he once was – understandably, he begins to slip into depression.

This is a beautiful story, something cinema lacks nowadays – how apt. It is a story of pride, fame, love and tenacity. It shows how one reacts when one loses one’s glory. It shows the challenges that an actor must face once they become irrelevant and forgotten to the public. One dream sequence illustrates this perfectly: George, unable to speak, finds himself surrounded by everyday sounds and voices, yet he himself cannot utter a single syllable; it is a sequence that portrays George’s sense of isolation and irrelevance, or at least his fear of it; it also portrays George’s inability to accept that the world around him is changing, whether he likes it or not – it is a powerful and commanding sequence in a powerful and commanding movie.

This is a movie featuring wonderful acting. We have two marvellous leads in the form of Dujardin and Bejo, two very talented French actors whose talents perfectly fit the silent medium. Together, they find a balance between the iconic pantomime style of old-school silent acting (necessary due to the actors’ inability to emote via dialogue) and more subtle, modern-day acting. The result is stupendous; Dujardin and Bejo have a tremendously electrifying and natural chemistry together. Both give performances that are endearing, heartfelt and filled with such a strong sense of character and motivation – it’s astonishing that they achieve this without us ever having to hear either of their voices.

With “The Artist,” writer-director Michael Hazanavicius has crafted a magnificent piece of feel-good cinema. It gives us an endearing romance that we wish shall succeed in the end. It gives us enchanting characters who amuse, delight and absorb us. It gives us a powerful and expertly handled story that moves, astonishes and captivates us; we actually care about how this story shall end, and are satisfied with how it ends. It is one of the most effortlessly charming films I have seen in recent years, and also one of the best.

10/10