Running Time: 1 hr, 40 minutes
Rating: PG-13
Director: Michel Hazanavicius
Quick Impressions:
What distinguishes a comedy from a tragedy? Sometimes the line is so fine that the interpretation of a single sound makes all the difference. I’ve been waiting a long time to see this movie. Everybody has been raving about it everywhere forever. (I live in a constant state of hyperbole.) Honestly, I worried that I’d be disappointed in The Artist after hearing such a constant stream of praise for it. Fortunately, that didn’t happen. The movie was great.
The marriage of a high concept and a simple story, The Artist entertains with elegance. It also offers a delicious paradox: one of the most entertaining films of the year is a silent movie in which the protagonist comes to realize that silent movies are outdated because sound has such power and potential.
The movie starts on a high (concept) note and ends with a bang! Arguably the best part, the ending is definitely the most fun to watch.
The Good:
The movie opens with a screening of silent film star George Valentin’s latest movie, and the first line of dialogue we see flashes on the screen as Valentine’s spy character is being tortured by his captors. “I will never talk.” The men torturing him continue to yell, “Speak! Speak!” It’s quite a powerful opening scene and clearly defines the central concern of The Artist.
The opening scenes reminded me a lot of Singing in the Rain, itself meant to evoke the silent era with authenticity. The relationship between Valentin and his human costar seems very Don Lockwood/Lina Lamont. And obviously the protagonist’s name is a nod to silent star Valentino.
Throughout the movie, the stars do a fantastic job of acting like people acting in 1920s and 30s films. The tension filled breakfast scenes between Valentin and his estranged wife (played by the long absent from the screen Penelope Ann Miller) not only perfectly show the growing estrangement and resentment between the couple (caused in large part by a breakdown in communication and Valentin’s refusal to talk), but also evoke innumerable films from that era that inexplicably showcase a well-dressed man and woman sitting across the table from each other having breakfast. (I haven’t seen that many silent movies, but I’ve seen enough 1930s talkies to know that a well-dressed and hostile breakfast was apparently the perfect start to any day.) And, of course, the little dog looks just like Asta from The Thin Man series.
Both Jean Dujardin as Valentin and Bérénice Bejo as Peppy Miller (equal parts his rival and his love interest) do a magnificent job of behaving like people in films of that era. They also perfectly convey the emotions and points of view of their characters without needing any words.
I feel dumb admitting this, but I’d never really thought about the connection between the end of the silent era and the stock market crash. Many people who had profited from silent films probably really were ruined as they lost their prospects and their investments all at once. What an enormous paradigm shift! Watching Valentin’s reluctance to do things in a new way as his world crumbles around him, I couldn’t help thinking about the similarities to the transition away from printed media (whether books or film) going on now.
The movie is quite thought-provoking and makes a wonderful case for both the poignancy of silent films and the continual need for progress, growth, and change. One of the most interesting things about the movie, I think, comes in the moment when Peppy’s studio-driven feature and Valentin’s self-produced silent labor of love open on the same day. Besides making a huge statement about the characters and their motivations and thereby advancing the (tortured) love story, this series of scenes shows something incredibly thought-provoking to the audience.
Valentin has made a movie that so clearly reflects his world-view, values, and feelings. His film is far more memorable and moving that the countless clips we see of Peppy’s more successful films. Without sound, the scenes of Peppy’s bubbly banter with on-screen suitors all seem vapid and identical. In Valentin’s world, judged by his world’s standards, his is by far the superior film. But Valentin’s silent world is rapidly depopulating. It’s impossible to stop progress. His self-made movie ends in silent tragedy, and without intervention, his life is on track to end in the same way. But Peppy loudly intervenes.
Best Scene:
Without doubt, the most different scene of the movie is Valentin’s nightmare. It’s quite magnificent. I loved it. The most intriguing aspect is that as you watch it, you don’t yet know it’s a dream and begin to wonder if the film is about to take a bizarre and unexpected surrealistic turn. This dream sequence manages to get its point across with elegance, beauty, and more pure terror than seen in the scariest horror movies.
Best Surprise:
The ending of the movie is so awesome. I don’t mean the very end. I mean the part just before that when we’re still not sure what’s going to happen. The movie manages to build a surprising amount of suspense. Of course, suspense is one of the things silent movies did best. This suspense is drawn out so long that we actually become uncomfortable, impatient. We begin by thinking we know how things will end, but as the end draws nearer (and seems further and further away), we begin to doubt, begin to worry. The climactic “bang” is inspired!
Most Oscar Worthy Moment (Bérénice Bejo):
We’ve seen part of this scene in the preview, but I love the way Peppy cozies up to Valentin’s coat while waiting in his empty dressing room. It’s one of those things that makes us think, “Oh yes, I’ve seen this before. They always did that in old movies.” But she does it so well. The jacket and the coat rack both probably got asked out a lot after people saw that scene. Bejo is also pretty effective as she weeps in the darkened theater beside her well-meaning but clueless escort.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment (Jean Dujardin):
Dujardin spends the entire beginning of the movie smiling gamely. The smile seems affected but also natural, a part of the actor’s persona (like Peppy’s beauty spot). And then the smiling stops. Dujardin shows enormous range in this. He’s marvelous in the dream-sequence, and in all the silent films-within-the-film. Probably his most dramatic scene is the one that ends in flames. It’s a strong performance from start to finish.
The Other Performances:
I love James Cromwell. At least, I know James Cromwell, and I loved him while watching The Artist. His character is so winning, the loyal chauffeur who’s more like family than an employee.
I was also deeply pleased to see Penelope Ann Miller in a movie again. Back in the days of Adventures in Babysitting, Kindergarten Cop, and The Gun in Betty Lou’s Handbag, I really liked Miller. Where has she been? I don’t know, but she’s quite good as Valentin’s disgruntled wife Doris, a character who gets some of the biggest laughs in the movie.
John Goodman seems perfectly cast as the cigar-chomping studio head, particularly because it’s so easy to imagine his often-heard, distinctive voice as he flies into his frequent rages.
I was really surprised to see Missi Pyle in the cast as the movie opened, but she made a very convincing Lina-Lamontesque co-star.
In many ways, the dog steals the movie. His name appears to be Uggie. I’ll follow his work with interest.
The Negatives:
The only possible problem with this movie is that people who would enjoy the story might not go because it’s a black-and-white, silent, French film, and people who think they would like a black-and-white, silent, French film might not enjoy the story. But that’s borrowing trouble. The movie is good. I liked it. Watch it. You’ll probably like it.
Overall:
The Artist has an elegant simplicity that makes it hard to resist. It’s well written, featuring strong performances, memorable music, and the cutest dog you’ll see in a black-and-white, silent French film this year. Everybody should go. How can you resist a silent movie about the glory and demise of silent movies that presents a simple, relatable story instead of taking itself too seriously? It’s a movie made to be seen.