The Artist (2011)

When I was writing about my favorite movies of 2011, I pointed out that there was a massive turn towards nostalgia during the year. Most of the best movies were set in a past era or were attempts at harnessing past values or methods. None of these is quite as blatantly old-fashioned as The Artist. Here we have a modern movie about 1920-30s Hollywood that is silent, black and white, and in the classic "standard" ratio. If you don't know this fact going in, it is likely to mar the experience. Audiences are being taken aback by what they interpret as an intellectual affront. Today, people assume they don't like silent movies. This is only because they have never seen one and trust the large amounts of incorrect portrayals the era has received in parodies. I have heard of people walking out on this one, but not at my screening. This crowd was really enjoying it. Martin Scorsese's Hugo made people aware of silent movies through education and now Michel Hazanavicius is simply showing them one.

The story follows a big silent film star played by Kean Dujardin as his career and personal life wanes in the face of sound. There is also Berenice Bejo as the perky young lady the actor briefly falls for, but before she takes his place in the sound craze. An adorable, well-trained dog leads a great supporting cast that also includes John Goodman and James Cromwell. Missi Pyle has a cameo in which she plays a character I can only assume sounds like Lina Lamont, and indeed, this movie seems to have been inspired in a way by Singin' in the Rain, which told a similar story with music instead of silence. Hazanavicius has a beautiful vision here and I cannot praise his efforts enough. He has made a movie that could have easily been made during the time on which it was based, although it is perhaps a bit slicker. It is also perfectly aware that it is a silent film in a modern world and toys with the idea. His movie is like Charlie Chaplin's City Lights, defiantly silent in a time of sound and perfectly capable of utilizing sound. There is one scene that contains small sound effects, but it is a nightmare of unexpected noise in an otherwise quiet world. The film also appropriately closes with a scene in which the two stars tap dance with sound on a set that could have come right out of 42nd Street. I love the ending because it is important that for all the affection that can be given the silent age of Hollywood, there must also be an adaption to change. Therefore, this film shows even more maturity for closing this way.

I hope everyone who gets a chance to see The Artist does so. It is in many ways one of the most important movies of my lifetime. Anyone who thinks they have an idea of what silent films are like will probably experience something else entirely when they see this one, which could then inspire them to try others. Dujardin provides a strong performance in the lead that perfectly suits the format without being stereotypically hammy, and Bejo is leaking with personality and charm. They are living proof that history can be exciting, images alone can be moving and silence is sometimes quite golden. To go all Norma Desmond for a moment, they don't need dialogue. They have faces.

10/10