The Artist (2011)
Starring Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, Penelope Ann Miller, James Cromwell, and John Goodman
Directed by Michel Hazanavicius
In The Artist, Michel Hazanavicius has crafted a black-and-white silent film about the end of silent films. Certainly borrowing heavily from films like Singin' in the Rain and Citizen Kane (to name only a few), this flick is a love story to cinema which is why I could easily see it picking up many Oscars at this year's Academy Awards. As the flick opens, popular silent film actor George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) finds his star still on the rise. Along with his adorable tag-along pooch, George is much beloved by the public. It is at the premiere of his newest film where he first meets Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), who accidentally bumps into him as he is being interviewed by the press. Trying to make the most of her fifteen minutes of fame, Peppy becomes a "regular gal-turned-actress," and she and George begin a nice friendship that both wish could grow to something with more romantic undertones except that George is unhappily married to Doris (Penelope Ann Miller) who is constantly aggravated with her husband.
When the studio head Al Zimmer (John Goodman) approaches George to be in a newfangled "talking picture," George balks at the idea and leaves the studio that gave him his big break behind. As he funds his own silent film, George finds his star power waning while Peppy's is on the rise thanks to her participation in sound films. With George in the dumps and Peppy living large, their roles have reversed, but neither have forgotten about their suppressed love for one another despite the fact that their industry has attempted to push them apart.
The story is perfectly pleasant and certainly simple enough to be told with minimal title/dialog cards, yet it absolutely kept my interest the whole way through thanks in large part to some great performances from Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo. Dujardin, in particular, is kinda fantastic as the charmer George Valentin. Obviously, acting in a silent film (and a silent film that pays homage to those that came before it) requires a bit of what we may nowadays call "over-acting," but Dujardin rarely stoops to that level. Instead, he takes a simple eyebrow raise and clues the audience in to exactly what his character is thinking, walking the normally precarious line between melodrama and seriousness (both of which are requirements for his character to perform) with great ease. Ms. Bejo, on the other hand, does tend to favor (or was told to mimic) the more dramatic style of acting most would likely associate with silent films. Don't take that as a detriment, however, as Bejo is exuberant and quite a joy to watch onscreen.
There are several moments of ingeniousness by director and writer Michel Hazanavicius that to reveal here would ruin their effectiveness on film, but needless to say, there were several moments that had me smiling simply because of his directorial and screenwriting choices. The film looks absolutely beautiful as well and his vision of creating a 1920s-style flick with all the conventions that entails -- those "sweeping" scene changes, a near-constant musical score, to name a few -- is absolutely successful.
However, the film lacks a little bit of that emotional oomph I was hoping for. Ultimately, I think the reason falls on the fact that the film, even in its most dour of moments, is wholeheartedly a melodrama and because of that, it never quite takes itself serious enough for me to get serious about it. Still, unlike what is often the case for me, The Artist is sitting quite well as it stews in my mind as I type out this review. In fact, as I've pondered over the flick, I've raised my grade by half a point (although you'll have to forgive me if 24 hours from now, I feel like changing it back...which [edited to add] I did...I'm still internally debating the B+/A- here). In the end, The Artist is a charming film that can't help but elicit many smiles out of moviegoers who give this old-school, black-and-white, silent film a chance.
When the studio head Al Zimmer (John Goodman) approaches George to be in a newfangled "talking picture," George balks at the idea and leaves the studio that gave him his big break behind. As he funds his own silent film, George finds his star power waning while Peppy's is on the rise thanks to her participation in sound films. With George in the dumps and Peppy living large, their roles have reversed, but neither have forgotten about their suppressed love for one another despite the fact that their industry has attempted to push them apart.
The story is perfectly pleasant and certainly simple enough to be told with minimal title/dialog cards, yet it absolutely kept my interest the whole way through thanks in large part to some great performances from Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo. Dujardin, in particular, is kinda fantastic as the charmer George Valentin. Obviously, acting in a silent film (and a silent film that pays homage to those that came before it) requires a bit of what we may nowadays call "over-acting," but Dujardin rarely stoops to that level. Instead, he takes a simple eyebrow raise and clues the audience in to exactly what his character is thinking, walking the normally precarious line between melodrama and seriousness (both of which are requirements for his character to perform) with great ease. Ms. Bejo, on the other hand, does tend to favor (or was told to mimic) the more dramatic style of acting most would likely associate with silent films. Don't take that as a detriment, however, as Bejo is exuberant and quite a joy to watch onscreen.
There are several moments of ingeniousness by director and writer Michel Hazanavicius that to reveal here would ruin their effectiveness on film, but needless to say, there were several moments that had me smiling simply because of his directorial and screenwriting choices. The film looks absolutely beautiful as well and his vision of creating a 1920s-style flick with all the conventions that entails -- those "sweeping" scene changes, a near-constant musical score, to name a few -- is absolutely successful.
However, the film lacks a little bit of that emotional oomph I was hoping for. Ultimately, I think the reason falls on the fact that the film, even in its most dour of moments, is wholeheartedly a melodrama and because of that, it never quite takes itself serious enough for me to get serious about it. Still, unlike what is often the case for me, The Artist is sitting quite well as it stews in my mind as I type out this review. In fact, as I've pondered over the flick, I've raised my grade by half a point (although you'll have to forgive me if 24 hours from now, I feel like changing it back...which [edited to add] I did...I'm still internally debating the B+/A- here). In the end, The Artist is a charming film that can't help but elicit many smiles out of moviegoers who give this old-school, black-and-white, silent film a chance.
The RyMickey Rating: B+
Bang!
ReplyDeleteIt was pretty freakin' excellent.
I did enjoy it and although it's not my favorite of the year, I wouldn't be disappointed at all if it won Best Picture. I do want to see it again, though...if it ends up going wide, I may check it out a second time.
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