Sweet, beautiful and surprisingly touching, Academy-Award winning film The Artist has rightly enchanted audiences and critics worldwide and become a darling of the film season. Like most people, I was curious to see how a silent film would be made in 2011. Although there seems to be so much nostalgia in the cinema industry at the moment, this film pushes the boundaries and challenges the current 3D blockbuster fad by going to the extreme length of recreating this historical style of filmmaking.
At the beginning, George Valentin (played by the fantastic Jean Dujardin) comes across as a charismatic and charming personality but by the end of the film you see a real depth to his character. I was surprised at how poignant some moments of this film were – from a light-hearted and theatrical feel at the beginning to some truly moving scenes, the film showcased a range of emotions. As for the actors, both Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo (who plays the delightful Peppy Miller) do a wonderful job at what is a difficult and unusual role for modern actors to take on. And of course, Uggie, the now famous little dog also plays an amusing – and at one point, significant – role in the film.
As a silent film, The Artist makes you focus more on other elements, such as the actors' expressions. As a result, the facial gestures and body language may appear almost exaggerated, however, when you account for the absence of dialogue you very soon become accustomed to this style of acting. As the audience, your attention becomes drawn to the energetic and spirited faces and you find yourself smiling and frowning along with the characters. The silence also makes you notice the way the film has been beautifully created by director Michel Hazanavicius. The detail to the craft of the film can be seen from the shots and framing to the opening title and intertitles. In fact, The Artist fits in with the classic films of the silent era so well that if it wasn't for the high quality and crisp images, you would think you were watching a 1920s film. It was in no way overdone or exaggerated and while it may be perceived as some audiences as a novelty, the film really reveals the director’s dedication to and knowledge of the silent film style.
Another way the film stands apart from those made in the silent era is the way it references and engages with the wider context of the film. I really like George Valentin’s dream sequence in particular, which highlights the tension present between the silent and “talkies” eras. Valentin begins to hear the sounds and atmosphere of the environment around him but is unable to talk, no matter how much he tries. The whole film itself could be seen as symbolising its own context, with Valentin representing the talent and tradition of the silent film era, while Peppy Miller is the fresh, young and pretty modern star. The film sees the gradual demise of the silent film until it is resurrected with a combination of these two worlds (culminating in the wonderful dance sequence at the end). In effect, it is what The Artist is also doing – bringing back nostalgia in a contemporary time. Speaking of the ending, I love how sound is inserted in the film – it is a very clever way of modernising the film and making it relate more to its context. In fact, there was a lot about this film that I loved – the acting, the framing and editing, the script and eve the setting (the costumes, the cars and just the 1920s in general!). The Artist is far from being a novelty act – it really is the work of an artist.
At the beginning, George Valentin (played by the fantastic Jean Dujardin) comes across as a charismatic and charming personality but by the end of the film you see a real depth to his character. I was surprised at how poignant some moments of this film were – from a light-hearted and theatrical feel at the beginning to some truly moving scenes, the film showcased a range of emotions. As for the actors, both Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo (who plays the delightful Peppy Miller) do a wonderful job at what is a difficult and unusual role for modern actors to take on. And of course, Uggie, the now famous little dog also plays an amusing – and at one point, significant – role in the film.
As a silent film, The Artist makes you focus more on other elements, such as the actors' expressions. As a result, the facial gestures and body language may appear almost exaggerated, however, when you account for the absence of dialogue you very soon become accustomed to this style of acting. As the audience, your attention becomes drawn to the energetic and spirited faces and you find yourself smiling and frowning along with the characters. The silence also makes you notice the way the film has been beautifully created by director Michel Hazanavicius. The detail to the craft of the film can be seen from the shots and framing to the opening title and intertitles. In fact, The Artist fits in with the classic films of the silent era so well that if it wasn't for the high quality and crisp images, you would think you were watching a 1920s film. It was in no way overdone or exaggerated and while it may be perceived as some audiences as a novelty, the film really reveals the director’s dedication to and knowledge of the silent film style.
Another way the film stands apart from those made in the silent era is the way it references and engages with the wider context of the film. I really like George Valentin’s dream sequence in particular, which highlights the tension present between the silent and “talkies” eras. Valentin begins to hear the sounds and atmosphere of the environment around him but is unable to talk, no matter how much he tries. The whole film itself could be seen as symbolising its own context, with Valentin representing the talent and tradition of the silent film era, while Peppy Miller is the fresh, young and pretty modern star. The film sees the gradual demise of the silent film until it is resurrected with a combination of these two worlds (culminating in the wonderful dance sequence at the end). In effect, it is what The Artist is also doing – bringing back nostalgia in a contemporary time. Speaking of the ending, I love how sound is inserted in the film – it is a very clever way of modernising the film and making it relate more to its context. In fact, there was a lot about this film that I loved – the acting, the framing and editing, the script and eve the setting (the costumes, the cars and just the 1920s in general!). The Artist is far from being a novelty act – it really is the work of an artist.
4.5/5
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