The Artist

It is interesting that in our time of reality TV, remakes and big blockbusters, The Artist’s 1920s-1930s setting still reflects the cycle of fickle celebrity stardom that continues today…

The bat of an eyelash, a false smile, a gentle embrace – the actions of The Artist’s stars truly speak louder than any words as they paint a self-portrait of the Hollywood machine.

In an era where silent movies reign, George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a star. Loved by his co-stars, adored by his fans, George is a household name and the biggest celebrity of 1927.

On an off-chance, one of his fans Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo) snatches front page headlines after landing a kiss on George at a premiere.

In one minute, a cover girl to leading lady, Peppy is a new face with the emergence of talkies in the 1930s. However, as Peppy shines, George’s star begins to fade as he refuses to give up the silent films that made him famous.

Below: Malcolm McDowell and Bérénice Bejo.

In an industry that relies on dialogue, explosions and drama to make or break a film, The Artist’s 100 minutes of silence was a surprising breath of fresh air.

Like heading to the country after a long stint in the city, this film removes all the clutter and modern technology that interferes with good old fashioned story telling.

Being a Gen Y child, I was expecting to be bored from the lack of sound, black and white print and academy style ratio – remembering my distain for silent movies in first year film studies.

The Artist transcends its technological ‘barriers’ self-imposed upon the film. Instead of exploding your mind with CGI or snappy one-liners, The Artist is carried on the brilliant skills of its actors, every emotion conveyed on their face without either having to utter a line of dialogue.

Below: John Goodman.

The film isn’t just about George as an artist, but the film itself as a painting, with everyone involved in this film an artist in their own right – together painting a visually stunning picture using the most simplistic of actions.

The story is not a complex one with elements of comedy, romance, and drama like any film. Because of the film’s reliance on visual images alone, it is clever how the simply story becomes intriguing for the way it is told.

One particular standout scene is when a moment is punctuated with the sounds of chairs scraping and glasses breaking as George has nightmares that talking will replace silent film. It is moments like this that show the simplest techniques used in the most powerful ways.

The Artist is also interesting in its use of self-reflexivity, commenting on the Hollywood industry as both a powerful and destructive force.

It is interesting that in our time of reality TV, remakes and big blockbusters, The Artist’s 1920s-1930s setting still reflects the cycle of fickle celebrity stardom that continues today.

George’s journey from Hollywood star to a drunk wash-out is one we see play out in the headlines of tabloids even now, with younger, more beautiful celebrities constantly replacing the ‘has-beens’.

The acting is amazing. Jean Dujardin’s Oscar nomination (and potential win by the time this is published) is well-deserved. Right from George’s opening cries “don’t make me speak”, to his sole and final line of the film, this man needed no words to tell his story.

From suave and handsome, to broken and suicidal, George is a man who falls spectacularly out of control as the Hollywood industry turns its back on the past to make way for the younger future.

Full of homage to 1920s and 1930s films, the likes of Greta Garbo, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, the film comments on a golden era lost, perhaps taking us back to a time when communication didn’t have to come in the form of words.

The film aches of nostalgia for this forgotten time, with perhaps a hint of sadness towards the way the celebrity power of Hollywood has influenced our lives.

Below: Jean Dujardin and Missi Pyle.

Reel Moments

The crowd pleaser – The chemistry with Jean Dujardin is electric. Without uttering a word, the pair’s relationship moves form chance encounter, fandom adoration to mutual partnership and understanding.

The stage dive – For once, I can honestly say I found nothing wrong with this film. Never a dull moment, despite the lack of modern technology.

Final curtain call? – A beautifully crafted piece of art-work, paying attention to the finer details so often lost in Hollywood blockbusters we see today.

By Laura Weaser
29 February 2-12