Movie Review – The Artist (2011) (PG-13)
silence is gold
The artist it’s cinematic perfection: a joyous celebration of all that makes movies so wonderful. Set during the end of Hollywood’s silent era, it surely must have been a labor of love for writer/director Michel Hazanavicius, because nowadays, a filmmaker doesn’t take lightly the decision to tell an image-based story in the melodramatic language. Pay close attention to the technical aspects. It is a (mostly) silent film, photographed in black and white, shot in the Academy ratio of 1.33:1. It uses action-packed music that is intended to dictate how the audience is supposed to feel. The actors rely almost entirely on body language and facial expressions. Whenever necessary, intertitles will appear on the screen showing vital bits of dialogue.
Aim The artist it is not merely a stylistic homage. If it were, it would just be a Mel Brooks remake. silent film, which had a lot of humor but little substance. It actually tells us a story, a loose review of Singing in the rain with just a touch of sunset boulevard. thrown in. It has interesting characters that we can care about, and because they are all essentially decent, we don’t feel like we’ve been manipulated. In his theatricality, he is neither condescending nor brutalizing; he wants to make a connection, and he does that by appealing to the emotions that I think most audiences possess. There’s drama, comedy, romance and dance, all immensely entertaining, all done with tremendous heart.
Set in Los Angeles between 1927 and 1932, it tells the story of George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), a silent film star known for his roles as action heroes and romantic leads. Just when it seemed like his life couldn’t get any better, a producer named Al Zimmer (John Goodman) shows him some test footage of an actress speaking into a microphone. It’s a new innovation: Talkies, in which the pre-recorded sound is synchronized with the image. George initially laughs at the idea. Who wants to hear the actors talk? It will have no future. But not long after, the major studios cease production of all new silent films. The new young actors, who are perfectly willing to have their voices heard in a movie theater, quickly outshine their older silent counterparts. This would include the fresh-faced Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), whom George bumped into completely by accident. In her dressing room, after saving her from being fired from her, he tenderly gives her a signature look: a pencil-drawn mole on her upper lip.
Although Peppy’s star is rising, George’s star is fading fast. By 1929, he had stopped loving his wife (Penelope Ann Miller), preferring instead the company of his dog, his constant companion and co-star. He clings to the belief that it is better to see and not hear, which is why he writes, produces, directs and stars in his own film. I don’t need to tell you how the premiere goes. I will say that it happens immediately after the stock market crash, leaving George with virtually nothing. His wife throws him out of the house. He starts drinking. Out of kindness, he fires his loyal chauffeur and servant, Clifton (James Cromwell). He is forced to pawn his beloved tuxedo and auction off his personal possessions, including a life-size portrait of himself. Can this failed movie star find his way back into the hearts of the people? Or will it completely fade into darkness?
Watching Dujardin, with his strikingly handsome face and irresistibly dashing smile, one can’t help but see echoes of Gene Kelly, especially during the final scene. Bejo, petite but brimming with vitality, she doesn’t need to speak to let you know what she feels; Her expressive eyes speak for her. When a tear rolls down her cheek, you’re tempted to cry along with her. Some would call this a heist, except it’s not a heist, it’s the language that many movies like this communicate with. If you remove this, you no longer have a silent movie. Instead, you have a movie in which the actors don’t speak. You know the difference. In the best possible sense, emotion oozes from every character and every situation. This would include a climactic fire sequence, in which the most unlikely hero will emerge.
it is incredible how beautiful The artist aspect. Guillaume Schiffman’s Oscar-winning cinematography transforms the sets into picturesque dreamscapes and the actors into the very embodiment of glamour. Just watching the movie floods the senses; you can smell the cigarette smoke and pancake crust, feel the studio lights on, taste the alcohol and the lip stain. It immerses you, not so much in another time as in another world, where reality is filtered through nostalgia. Speaking of Oscar nominations, I hope someone puts a good word in on composer Ludovic Bource, whose powerful score runs through most of the film. As long as I go down this path, I might as well go all out and hope for a Best Picture nomination. I’m pretty sure this movie has the correct ratings.