The Artist (2011)

Why I Liked... The Artist (2011)

(Dir. Michel Hazanavicius Starring: Jean Dujardin, Berenice Bejio, Uggie)

If my childhood were in black and white and silent-this film would best depict it.

Without the being a Hollywood star, the dog, or falling into a depressive state, however. (I like to count the times I took over the family camera and commanded my father to ‘SMILE!’ as movie making.)

How does one describe The Artist? I hear it’s insured for over a thousand dollars and does car commercials in Japan. Awesome.

No but really-as excited to see it as I was, I was a little scared there might be a lull in attention-this most certainly is not a film you can accidentally fall asleep in, because there aren’t any words to wake you up.

On top of everything, I found The Artist to be a hilarious comedy of riches and sight gags and a fantastic experiment using old and new techniques to exemplify the collapse of a silent film actor’s career (no, that’s not a spoiler).

Eve's that girl.

Beginning with a viewing of a silent movie, we creep backstage to see George Valentin (Dujardin) watching on with a smile. Heart racing, you wait for someone to say something, anything to break the silence, and finally you’re able to breathe again when the audience in the film laughs in silence. I don’t know what to call it, this anxiety I experienced-I mean I walked into the film knowing it was silent, so what gives? Well, probably rarely ever watching silent films outside of University, I guess.

After that initial reaction, I was charmed and delighted by this unexpected gem of a film. It was predictable, but it reveled in it, taking that well worn Sunset Boulevard path while using our worst fears to bring us more in touch with these out-of-this-world characters-silence. Being silenced. Normally when I watch a film, I interact with it by giving it silent commentary (if it’s bad I do this verbally), responding to questions asked and actions acted-with The Artist, I slowly realised that this anxiety I had gone through was my mind subconsciously going silent-to match the film. Unsettling, but eye opening at the same time.

The Artist uses this fear of losing one’s tongue in a skilled manner-it’s not just the audience who have to deal with the silence, it’s George and his career as well-literally and figuratively. Gone are the days when silent film stars ruled supreme, and in come the new Talkies, with new talent to boot. Peppy Miller (Bejo), among them.



Writing this out makes The Artist seems very trite and formulaic, but truly, if The Artist can be categorised as just another genre film with the gimmick of silence and black and white added in, then Raging Bull is just another underdog sports movie and a Sum 41 soundtrack. No, it is the undervalued and forgotten skill of acting without words that makes The Artist sparkle. Dujardin is able to shine and wonder with his fabulous face (ohmygod I love it), but with no words and hardly any title cards, you knew what was going on with Mr. George Valentin, and you didn’t have to be a mind reader to figure it out. He wasn’t over the top with his gestures, and yet still managed to make us feel sorry for him, love him, and dislike him all at the same time.

While evoking the hokey, hammy feelings in film in the 1920’s, The Artist manages to bring it forward to the 21st Century, making us believe that a dog can yet again become the top billing star of a film again (oh, simpler days), and...and what, exactly? The Artist connects, yet at the same time, distances itself from the audience, and it manages to balance that perfectly. You will leave the cinema feeling uplifted and at the same time, a little disoriented.

It speaks to everyone differently.

Seriously, this photo freaks me out a little.