Wednesday, February 1, 2012

The Artist: A Silent Tribute to Cinema

After months of seeing it get nominated and snag Best Picture awards all over the place, I finally saw The Artist. This is the black & white silent film that is an ode to the movies from the golden age of Hollywood and together with Hugo, it has established 2011 as the year that celebrated the art of cinema. Hugo, with its 3D effects and stunning colors is almost the polar opposite of The Artist, but both declared that movies really are magical things and they sure have come a long way.

The Artist begins in 1927, when silent film star George Valentin (Jean Dujardin who has rightly picked up some Best Actor statuettes for his expressive and delightful face that seems tailor-made for silent film) is at the height of his career and runs into aspiring actress, Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo, with a face and dance moves that make her equally deserving of her Supporting Actress nominations). Through a combination of luck and talent, Peppy makes her way through the Hollywood ladder, starting as an extra in one of Valentin's films, winding her way through bit parts, supporting roles, and finally starring in her own pictures. In 1929, the studio where the two actors work decides to focus solely on making talkies, a move that Valentin scoffs at. He thinks talking pictures are ridiculous and he walks out of the studio, determined to make his own silent movie that will be a huge hit and prove the studio wrong. His movie releases on October 25th, 1929, right opposite Peppy's splashy talkie, and no guesses as to which one draws the better box office.

I hope you paid attention to the date of that movie release. A few days later, the stock market crashes, George is a ruined man, and a movie that started out on an effervescent Singin' in the Rain note, now enters more dramatic territory. George is reminiscent of Norma Desmond, the forgotten silent movie actress in Sunset Boulevard, and he quickly descends into a boozy haze of self-pity and indignation at how quickly he has been forgotten. Meanwhile Peppy's star is on the rise, but she never forgets George, the man who gave her her first break in Hollywood and who she still loves.

The movie goes through many melodramatic plots and contrivances that get our romantic leads back together again. And of course, this all takes place with no accompanying dialogue except for what you can figure out if you're a decent lip-reader or read off the title cards that punctuate the movie. I have to confess, I could predict almost every single plot point before it took place (maybe it's because of all the Bollywood movies I've seen that go through the roller-coaster comedy to melodrama to comedy route) but since it is all contained within a tight 90 minutes, it never gets dull. Instead, you are completely captivated by the acting in this film. These actors do so much with their faces and bodies that hearing them speak would almost be annoying. Berenice Bejo's nominations are worth it for one scene alone when she finds herself in Valentin's dressing-room and has a romantic interlude with his coat that's hacking on a rack. Jean Dujardin radiates charm as a handsome leading man and then seethes with palpable despair and anger as a ruined nobody. Of course, the film's score is a highlight, taking up all the slack for the lack of dialogue and keeping you well-acquainted with the tone and mood of every scene. It has to win the Oscar because what other film this year has needed to rely so heavily on the music?

Before you think that this is just another silent movie though, the film does take advantage of the fact that it is being made in 2011. After all, silent movies in the 1920s couldn't discuss the talkies, since there were no talkies to discuss. There is a wonderful sequence right after George learns about the studio's decision to make talkies - he has a nightmare where he can hear everyone and everything, but he himself has lost his voice. This marvelously captures the anguish of all those faded silent movie stars who were so popular when they couldn't speak, but were later rudely cast aside because no one wanted to hear them talk. And the ending of this movie was expected but delightful, heralding the kind of movies that became popular in the 1930s.

The Artist is an ingenious film because it covers a variety of genres, alludes to several famous scenes and characters in movie history, and does all of this while still being a silent film. It manages to be completely accessible to a modern audience, while still retaining the look and feel of a movie from the 1920s, and I can't quite figure out how it achieved this feat. It truly is a marvel and I can finally understand why it has received so much acclaim.

One final note. I have now seen every Best Picture nominee (that's a lie, I haven't seen Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, but seriously, who's counting that one?) and I can officially decide who I would give Best Picture to. And after a great deal of thought, I surprised myself. My pick is The Descendants. I loved Hugo and The Artist, both front runners for this race, and I wouldn't be upset if either of those movies won. But ultimately, a movie that tells me that movies are great is not what I need, because I already knew that. I need a movie like The Descendants, which is beautiful, human, funny, emotional, and perfect. Of all the nominated movies this year, this one made me truly appreciate going to the movies. What more can I ask for?

No comments:

Post a Comment