An earnest piece of innovative cinema

Rating: 9/10 (17 February 2012)

I will admit that at times I approach a classic silent film with a slight bit of reluctance. Some might find the little quirks of the grainy, blotchy film reels from which it has been garnered part of their charm and the historical experience, but realistically, I find it quite distracting when trying to genuinely lose myself in the film. The same goes to the richly textured black and white aesthetic and the absence of synchronised sound; sometimes I just feel trapped in a prison of deafness and colour blindness, and I feel that I will go mad if I don't see colour or hear an environmental sound very soon. I also get tired of watching hyperactive characters that look and sound like circus clowns bumbling around scary cardboard cut-outs as instruments of a very cheesy plot.
Although, given the period, these aspects that would now be considered deficiencies can be forgiven and enable us to appreciate the film for what it is. However, the idea of such a film being made in contemporary times seems very silly and self-indulgent, an expectation that was fulfilled entirely in all its second-rate glory with Dr Plonk (2007). As this year's The Muppets and Hugo have shown us, what works with a revival of an old genre of franchise is to embrace the past while still acknowledging the future.
Yes, The Artist is certainly a silent film, but it doesn't try to fool us into thinking that it was in the '20s. Many traditional conventions are used, but French writer/director Michel Hazanavicius doesn't restrict himself to them. The film is a reflection of the era, and focuses mainly on its dying days. The death of silent films was, of course, the talkies, which came gawkily at the beginning of the 30s, violently uprooting old luminaries such as our main character and taking at least a couple of years to find its own footing.
Our protagonist is the cocky and charismatic megastar George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) who is as French as his name would suggest, but since voice was then irrelevant in a screen actor's bank of skills, his foreign accent is in no way an inhibition for him in Hollywood as it was tragically for Bela Lugosi just a decade afterwards. He frequently milks his applause at film premier's pushing aside his disgruntled co-star Constance (Missi Pyle) and casually disregarding the feelings of his long-suffering wife (Penelope Ann Miller) by flirting and giggling with his female fans: but it's all good comical fun at least for the audience. As one can imagine, he is coasting along well until the industry suddenly veers off into territory that he is unable to walk on.
Acclaimed film critic David Stratton described the plot as "part Singin' in the Rain and part A Star is Born" which is quite true, but only on the most superficial level. After the beginning of the sound movement, the cheery laughter goes out with a bang as Valentin views on of Constance's sound tests and takes it to be a joke, but as soon as the austere studio executive Al Zimmer (John Goodman) declares "This isn't a joke! This is the future!" the gags are reduced to a scant serving of ironic chuckles and we see a downsized Valentin plummet into a bottomless pit of despair and disillusionment. He doesn't just struggle to make the transition; the change has thrown him into a miserable exile. Meanwhile, the lively Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo) a hapless and helplessly devoted old fan is taking a piece of Valentin's guidance to make herself the flourishing It girl of the new age, making cavalier comments to the press on the previous era that are similar to my complaints made in the opening paragraph. The timeless question of whether to judge people on their actions or the intentions behind them is then added to the melancholy world of the redundant cultural has-been that makes this a truly meaningful piece.
David also said "it's a real feel-good movie", which is partly true, but again only if one looks at the light-hearted, carefree beginning, the uplifting ending, and the loyal little dog that does the cute tricks that everyone is always talking about. I could go on quoting from that episode of At the Movies, but perhaps I should stop here. They said many things that I don't agree with, for even though the three of us would give the film the same rating, we all apparently liked it for quite different reasons. I admired the creativity of the silent film that is about silent movies, and the clever and rather bold use of synchronised sound in some parts to show the changing times and attitudes.
Our enthusiastic cast features an eye-catching display of familiar faces and proved talent trying something new. However, John Goodman, James Cromwell and Malcolm McDowell aren't here to dominate the picture as a cowardly insurance policy. Arguably, the only safe route taken by this picture is the upbeat ending and the adorable dog, the rest is quite bold and ambitious. The film ultimately belongs to its splendid French leads, who exude a natural nostalgic charm as though they've always been silent film stars, and thrive on the freedom that the absence of spoken dialogue gives them. It is a shock to hear Dujardin's strikingly European accent at the very end, for at that point we had for some time stopped seeing him as a French man, and simply thought of him as a man. Hopefully, that will ensure that he nabs this year's Oscar for best actor.