It's the quiet ones you have to watch...
On general release in UK cinemas today (30 December) Michael Hazanavicius' The Artist comes highly recommended by critics, the good people at the Golden Globes and, it is assuredly predicted, by the voting members of the Academy, for The Artist is hotly tipped for Oscar glory. For what it’s worth, we like it too.
The Artist
Put to one side your fears of a dry academic exercise, or of parody and pastiche, because The Artist doesn’t feel old, exclusive and rehashed; it feels fresh, bold and, crucially, fun.
At the core of the film’s success is the performance of the film’s lead, Jean Dujardin, as George Valentin. Expressive, raffish, loveable and charming, Dujardin’s George is absolutely convincing and totally plausible as a silent movie star, moving gracefully from hoofing to clowning to the swash and buckle of a grainy, recreated action scene without disturbing a hair on his head or in his immaculate pencil moustache.
Dujardin is supported by a strong cast, with John Goodman as the affable but ruthless studio chief, James Cromwell as Valentin’s stoic valet, and by Bérénice Bejo as Valentin’s extra-marital love interest cum film rival Peppy Miller.
Bejo’s carefree depiction of Miller’s ascent from autograph hunter to chorus girl to overnight talkie sensation is every bit as satisfying as Dujardin’s turn, joyful, soulful and brimming with the irrepressible energy of youth.
Don’t be persuaded, by the critical acclaim and by the year on your Christmas calendar, that this is anything other than a silent film. While not academic, Hazanavicius' recreation of the silent era is studious and throughly researched.
Although he embraces modern techniques and equipment, resulting in a film which looks beautiful in crystal clear black and white, and occasionally springs a surprise or two, there is little effort to make things easier for a contemporary audience. The occasional dialogue is played out using the intertiles you’ll have seen parodied in silent movie spoofs, the ever-present soundtrack skitters along as though played by a live band, creating the tension and light relief where you might expect raised voices or sound effects, and old-fashioned fades and wipes are preferred to more modern editing techinques.
These are all deliberate and immersive choices though, and after a few minutes of feeling distracted and unnerved by the absence of dialogue and the unnatural-seeming techniques, you will be merrily esconced in the world of the film, and delighted, particularly by the knockabout first act in which Dujardin, and a scruffy but very talented dog get to show off their considerable gifts.
The Artist, like its central character George Valentin, isn’t just charming, funny and good-looking; Hazanavicius has some interesting things to say about star power and celebrity, and most tellingly about the value Hollywood places on novelty and what we lose, as storytellers, as a result.
With the business embracing the the spectacle of 3D, and its power to pull punters through the door, The Artist makes a statement that cinema can be visual without being shallow. If anything, the success (artistic, critical and one would assume commercial) of this brilliant, affecting resurrection of a prematurely dead medium proves that what is lost as a result of perceived progress and innovation can be too great a price to pay.
So, on this occasion, do take our word for it, go and see The Artist, be gripped, thrilled (and quiet) for just under two hours, and come out of the theatre electrified and walking on air. Just like they used to.
Our Rating: 
