Masterful - one of the best of 2011

Rating: 10/10 (8 January 2012)

What chance in the world does a movie in which virtually no words are spoken and is filmed in black in white have to succeed at winning the hearts of Academy Award voters? If any of them bother to watch The Artist, the chances should be astronomical. This is more than a work of art. It surpasses the medium and our expectations. First, let me explain about the mechanics of the movie. Like its ancestors, it is not really silent; music accompanies just about every scene. Sometimes title cards appear to indicate what a character has said, but these are employed infrequently. Even ambient noise, like a cup being placed on a table, are not heard. Each actor "speaks" his lines, and the most basic ones are easily understood by the expressions. It's not as difficult to follow as it may sound.
In The Artist, Jean Dujardin plays a silent-film actor named George Valentin (sort of a cross between Rudolf Valentino and Douglas Fairbanks, Sr.). He is the star of his time and makes a good living. He's married to his frequent costar, played by Penelope Anne Miller, and he has an adorable Jack Russell terrier (a nod to the Thin Man movies). In an instance of kismet, he meets fan/aspiring actress Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), for whom he finds a job as an extra in his movie as a dancer (her name itself is probably a nod to the great Ann Miller). And meanwhile, his wife Doris is, shall we say, unhappy with George, noticing the chemistry between him and his new friend.
Reminiscent of A Star Is Born, Peppy becomes popular while, with the advent of talkies, George becomes less employable. No one wants to hear people talk, he rants at his boss (John Goodman). He vows to make his own movie – silent – with his own money. It opens on the same date as Peppy's big film, and it doesn't do well.
The plot is a simple rise-fall-rebirth drama. Its lack of complexity is a huge asset here, as so much must be expressed visually. And what visuals! The elegant shots from cinematographer Guillaume Schiffman evoke sympathy, stark reality, compassion, humor, and love almost effortlessly. The music is beautiful and well selected. This is a movie about movies, after all, and, much like Singin' in the Rain was about one actor's approach to the new-fangled talking pictures, The Artist shows us a different approach: George Valentin, realizing his career as he knows it cannot continue, simultaneously understands that he is not fit for the future, either. He cannot change, can he? Who, indeed, would want to hear him talk?
I mentioned earlier that virtually no words are spoken. As in Mel Brooks' Silent Movie, there is some dialog near the very end of the movie. But Dujardin and Bejo are so astounding, graceful, and sparkling on screen that no sound is needed, let alone actual words. They are a remarkable couple, she with the big eyes, coquettish wink, and impish personality, and he with the debonair stare, the chiseled chin, and all the raging self confidence that a stylish leading man should have. They are perfect in this movie.
I cannot stress how powerful and moving this movie is. It's a stunning achievement and wildly entertaining. It's enthralling, capturing a far- off time with impeccable, glistening accuracy. Director Michel Hanzanavicius doesn't miss a step in directing his cast – some of whom are quite seasoned. There's Goodman as the studio head and Miller as the wife, and other familiar faces show up, such as Missi Pyle, James Cromwell, Ed Lauter, and Malcolm McDowell. Hanzanavicius' movie isn't just evocative of the old 1920s films – it really seems to transport you to a theater in the early part of the 20th century. It's a lavish, loving film that is absolutely packed with emotional scenes. It is, at turns, joyous and devastating, but it is always, always a huge treat to watch. It is, most definitely, one of the very best films of 2011.