THE ARTIST

The transition to sound cinema is full of many a tragedy. Clara Bow, the first bona fide movie star, looked fantastic, but when audiences heard her regional accent, it killed her carrer. But if there is one thing we like, it's the possibility of a comeback. That is the theme of The Artist, the new comedy by Michel Hazanavicious (OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies).

It's a story of two actors in love. George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a giant star complete with lovable dog co-star and Clark Gable mustache. Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo) is a spunky up-and-comer who gets her break due to Valentin's intervention.

There are two great scenes involving the duo. Both come in the film's first act. In one Valentin and Miller are shooting their first scene together, a quick tiny dance scene. Hazanavicious shows us the raw takes of their performances. By take 5, they are in love. In a later scene Peppy recalls how it felt to dance with Valentin with the help of his suit jacket and a little pantomime. Both scenes are breathlessly beautiful and warrant more love and analysis than I have room for here.

It seems like the two might become a couple. But then comes sound. Peppy embraces the technology allowing her star to rise. Valentin holds so firmly to the old ways that he refuses to transition at all. As a result, the two essentially flip stations. Peppy becomes the super rich national sensation and Valentin lives in greater and greater poverty, he even has to trade his Gable-esque mustache in for a more "civilian" model.

To say that The Artist is a retro film would be an understatement. It's impossible to discuss the film without mentioning that it is both silent and in Black & White. The film works best when it ignores this and focuses on being a good movie. But the film often finds Hazanavicious leaning too hard on his gimmick and as a result, The Artist is far too meta for it's own good. It's okay, even obligatory, to mention the lack of sound at least once, but the goal should be to allow the audience to forget that they're watching a silent film. Instead, Hazanavicious insists on constantly reminding us. The other problem is that the melodrama is laid on a little too thick. Some of the "downfall" scenes are fun, some are heartbreaking, but there are just too many of them. Many a silent film went over the top with the melodrama, but many of them where paced better too.

This is a film with a lot of heart. It's best asset are the two stars. Dujardin and Bejo have such a great natural chemistry together that the film is poorer when they are apart. The film is mostly charming and engaging and despite it's pacing issues, never truly missteps until the end when it abandons the wonderful score by Ludovic Bource and inexplicably uses a large chuck of Bernard Herman's 1958 score for Vertigo. The cue in question is perhaps one of the most famous and recognizable scores from a very different era of Hollywood. It may not bother non film-buffs, but if you're buying a ticket for The Artist there's a 86.14% chance you're a film-buff. This is a good film, and I'm glad something so odd exists, but it doesn't seem to warrant the "best film of the year" buzz it's getting. Also, if you're looking for an introduction to silent cinema, this is not a great entrance point. 

Grade: B