A Fun and Fitting Tribute to Hollywood's Golden Age

Rating: 9/10 (6 December 2014)

If someone had told me at the beginning of 2011 that the best picture of the coming year would be a French-made tribute to silent era Hollywood, I never would have believed them. And if they said it would be a silent movie, I would have thought them quite mad. And I don't think I would have been alone. Which is why it's both a shock and a delight that for the first time since the inaugural Academy Awards, a silent film has swept the Oscars and become the toast of Hollywood.
And how could it not? It's the ultimate exercise in nostalgia, albeit for a time few if any of us are old enough to remember. It's a portal to a simpler, more innocent, and more glamorous time, even if that's only the way we remember it. It pays tribute to practically every genre of the time, from swashbucklers and safari flicks to high society romances and the dance numbers of Fred and Ginger. True, its story of fading silent film star George Valentino and rising talkies actress Peppy Mills wouldn't have been all that original even then, yet that only adds to the timeless feel. Because the Artist doesn't hearken back to the silent era, it recreates it in near perfect detail.
The costumes, the sets, the title cards, all are all straight out of an old-time two reeler. The dances are exactly as they were in the twenties. The musical score, heavy on jazz and vaudeville, sounds like it was penned in Tinpan Alley. Just like a real film from the period, the footage speeds up during tense or frantic scenes. The only clue that the Artist belongs to the twenty first century is that the picture quality is so high; lacking the graininess and occasional dark spots of the old celluloid reels.
Even the cinematography seems to be from a bygone era, eschewing pans, tracking shots, and smooth transitions for the static camera shots and quick cuts that predominated at the time. Although this dedication to using period techniques does limit the variety of shots that can be used, the filmmakers compensate by filling the shots with movement and interaction between the actors. This is epitomized by a cutaway shot of the studio offices. As the protagonists briefly converse, dozens of figures pass them in every direction along two hallways and the wide staircase joining them. With more movements than the eye can keep up with, the scene reminded me of the grand spectacles of Metropolis and Modern Times.
And the stars are simply wonderful. Their gestures are broad and exaggerated, their faces wonderfully expressive as they convey shock, anger, or sadness. With a hesitant smile or a smug lift of the chin they say nearly as much as they could by speaking. As George Valentin, Jean Dujardin bears an uncanny resemblance to Douglas Fairbanks, with just a touch of William Powell thrown in. At the beginning of the picture, he radiates strength, vitality, and the joy of a man doing what he loves. But as the years pass and his career fades, the lines on his brow multiply and his prominent chin seems to recede. It's almost like seeing Mark of Zorro and Prisoner of Zenda side by side.
Leading lady Bérénice Bejo doesn't strike a strong resemblance to any particular starlet of the period, but rather could pass for any young woman of the roaring twenties with her toothy grin, narrow hips, and flapper haircut. And of course the real star of this picture is Uggie, who may be the most photogenic canine since Nick and Nora's terrier Astra. His tricks are as impressive as any Lassie or Rin-Tin-Tin ever did, and even more adorable. I'm hopeful that this won't be his only role.
Although it may not be the deepest or most complex of films, the Artist is surely among the most magical and delightful. Its attention to detail and love for its medium make it a treat for fans of the silent era, and its simplicity and sweetness will endear it even to those less familiar with the classics. It would seem that this year in Hollywood, all that's old is new again.