The Artist
★★★★
(2012)
Michel Hazanavicius’ sweet, simple and affecting little piece of work has been lauded and gushed over since it’s awards season run, making many best lists before the year was out. Of course with anything “widely acclaimed” it would seem that the backlash of people, bloggers and even the anger of Kim Novak has seriously started to hinder the enjoyment of watching the Artist for the first time or even thinking about it afterward. Is it possible to these days to watch a film totally underprepared? Hype and film have often laid down dangerously together and it’s sad to think that this small romantic film devoid of any cynicism may be knocked off it’s feet because of a tidal wave of it.
The film is miraculously simple in story and obvious in influence so I wont delve too deeply here looking for the cracks; of which it has few. To say, it mainly concerns a silent film stars fall from grace after the introduction of the talkies and the fresh faced gal on the block’s rise to stardom because of them. Its a parable of fame, fear, regret and change and one so differently told. A clean and well played mirror of character lets us see a love affair with out any contact or reason blossom and become threatened over the course without a word spoken. It’s intelligently shot, the sound (in particular scenes) and score are as beautiful a noise as I have ever heard and a few of the single shots are pure knock out.
George Valentin, played by Jean Dujardin is a joy as is the lovely Peppy Miller, Bérénice Bejo and their romance is wonderfully different to anything onscreen in this age even with the much talked about Jack Russell playfully threatening any serious discussion with any serious film lovers about The Artist as a serious film.
The truth of it is, The Artist is an abnormality of entertainment, effortlessly holding the packed cinema I saw it at with rapt wonder; No mean feat for an audience who aren’t happy unless parts of buildings or of Tom Cruise are flying at them at any given moment. It’s for this reason that I wont be lured into slagging this one off in anyway because of it’s deserved success. Sure its sentimental and harks back to a simpler time (is there even a comment in there about the plague or revitalisation of 3D?) but there’s no denying its sheer charm. Is that really something to get upset over?
3D event films, franchise reboots and remakes remakes remakes are criticized heavily in today’s public eye, yet the studios continue to humiliate it’s audiences with this mediocre tripe which, because it doesn’t threaten our pessimism of the world slips through the cracks relatively unscathed. I hope the smiles from cinema lovers clean some of the muck off this little gem again before the underbelly of the Internet flings more of it during the awards season, something I’m sure The Artist will dominate.
