The Artist: Phony as a Glass Eye

Rating: 3/10 (14 October 2019)

Easily one of the most manipulative movies I have ever seen. Not a 'bad' movie, this film reminds me of the line from 'Nothing Sacred'....'the truth, crushed to Earth, rises as phony as a glass eye'.
There is very little 'truth' to be found in this sickeningly nostalgic film, which won best picture Oscar. This movie makes 'Cinema Paradiso' look like 'Citizen Kane'.
Everyone is adorable. Even John Goodman. And if that wasn't enough, they throw in an adorable dog. I've never seen such manipulative cuteness since Paul Newman took Katherine Ross on a bicycle in 'Butch Cassidy', as the soundtrack played 'Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head'. Who could resist? Nobody.
But I managed to resist this. A true lover of silent films and early Hollywood would see through the silly happy ending. It made me yearn for how beautifully done the original 'A Star is Born' was made. There could be no happy ending. We just see Norman Maine walking into the ocean. Which makes the real ending ring so true...Vicky Lester proclaiming herself 'Mrs. Norman Maine'.
The movie's lead is reminiscent of John Gilbert, who would not make it successfully into the talkies. It's a shame. His love, Greta Garbo, even did exactly as the character 'Peppy Miller' did in 'The Artist'. She would not make 'Queen Christina' without Mr. Gilbert. And I believe Gilbert was fine with the role, but Hollywood, and his own alcoholism, prevented this from ever happening.
Garbo, ironically, shared the same fate. In her second attempt at comedy, the public stayed away in droves to 'Two-Faced Woman'. No one wanted to see a happy Garbo doing the rhumba. What had clicked so well in 'Ninotchka' failed dismally in 'Two-Faced Woman'. That's the difference between an intelligent script and an uninspired one.
When I viewed the happy ending to 'The Artist', it made me wonder. If John Gilbert could just dance a few steps, all would be sweetness and light! He would have gone on to a successful new career, provided audiences wanted to see Garbo rhumba, which they didn't.
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I have no doubt the makers of this film have a love for a glamorous old Hollywood. That this film rings of so much false nostalgia is unsettling. I hate to mention 'truth' again. But part of what makes 'Sunset Boulevard' such a fine film is its cynicism. Billy Wilder had a talent for making movies that turned out quite prophetic. We can all relate to Norma Desmond's declaration: 'I am big. It's the pictures that got small...'
Imitation is one thing. Stealing music is robbery. We all know the great love the French have for Jerry Lewis. And incongruously, Sir Alfred Hitchcock. So I found it rather annoying that they copped Bernard Herrmann's music from 'Vertigo' for one of the scenes in 'The Artist'. Obviously, they must have gotten permission, but I doubt Hitchcock would be amused.
There are clever moments throughout the film, but the movie winds up being an insincere, sloppy kiss to nostalgic Tinsel Town. You want to see a sincere and moving silent film? Try F.W. Murnau's 'Sunrise'. It was made in 1927.
I probably wouldn't post such a negative review, but I'm amazed at what passes for 'great films' in the twenty first century. At the end of the day, 'The Artist' is only so much politically correct fluff. Where is Billy Wilder's cynicism when we need it?