THE ARTIST

There has already been a film this year that warns of the dangers of nostalgia. The problem with nostalgia is that we start to see bygone eras through sepia-toned glasses, and leave ourselves blind to the shortcomings of the age, as well as the advantages of the now. It’s easier to take comfort with what’s working rather than push yourself through the pain of innovation and change. However, it should be understood that there is a difference between nostalgia, and going back to basics. After all, sometimes using a lesser palette and focusing on one core element can take something old and make it seem brand new again.

Bringing us back to 1927, THE ARTIST introduces us to a silent film star named George Valentin (Jean Dujardin). At the premiere of his latest adventure film, he is clearly in his element as he soaks up the audience ovation. He teasingly spars with his leading lady, bemuses his director, and gives true credit to his talented canine co-star. Coming out of this sold-out premiere, he (literally) bumps into a young ingenue (Berenice Bejo) who makes a scene by laying one on him.

The next day, armed with her newfound notoriety, the ingenue heads to a movie studio in the hopes of breaking into show business. Its then that we learn her name – Peppy Miller – and watch as she does indeed land a job in the movies. Specifically, she gets hired on Valentin’s new movie, and the wheels of fate are set in motion.

But before the wheels can spin all that quickly, a detour appears on the road. Valentin is shown the latest development in motion pictures: The advent of talkies. He laughs it off as a fad and refuses to jump on board the trend. Peppy, on the other hand, has the look and the sound of a star on the rise.

I’ve watched this film twice already, and in some ways it’s difficult to express why it works. It’s not like it’s truly original – the story strikes some familiar notes, and the execution nods to a lot of films that came before it. It’s also not like I haven’t seen a modern silent film either, since soaking up ten years worth of TIFF has given me chances to see new silent films from Brazil and Australia. So if it isn’t originality or brilliance, what is it about THE ARTIST that makes it connect with people?

I believe part of what makes THE ARTIST work is its simplicity. We’re in an age where from season to season we are given promissory notes from movie studios. They are enticing us to keep coming back – even though we could sometimes have more fun watching their product in the comfort of our own home. They dangle carrots of digital projection, IMAX, THX, 3-D, etc, making promises that stop just short of promising to lift you out of your seat and drop you into the plot. But as a moviegoer, it feels like so much effort is being put into presentation and very little is put into what is being presented. How else could I be so smitten with a silent, black and white film whose 1.33:1 ratio doesn’t even fill up the full movie screen?

However freshness of presentation will only take you so far. Inevitably, what’s on the screen has to do the heavy lifting. To that end, the charm and chemistry of Bejo and Dujardin is both dazzling and heartfelt. In their shinier moments – such as their meet-cute, or their energetic final scene – they embody the lost glamour of old Hollywood. They remind us of a time when movie stars looked like movie stars, living lives laced with allure and mystique. But what endears them to us is their quieter moments – the moments here there’s a gentle longing between them. They don’t need dialogue – their body language speaks volumes.

This movie has a lot of fun with its visuals – not like it has much other choice, right? Dujardin acts sometimes with just a cock of his eyebrow, and sometimes with his whole body. Likewise there’s Bejo, who completely earns her character’s name. But beyond the faces, THE ARTIST also makes full use of splendid places – places we’ve seen in iconic L.A movies as diverse as SUNSET BOULEVARD and BLADE RUNNER. It’s a film that makes full use of its settings, whether they are there to underscore how well Peppy is doing, or how far Valentin is falling.

THE ARTIST comes with a slight bit of cheek in the way it uses the line “We have to talk” repeatedly. However, what that winking phrase underlines is what I think speaks to me most about this film – that we don’t need to talk so much as we need to listen. Valentin’s main predicament comes from the fact that he can’t seem to listen to anyone or anything. People around him try to persuade, people around him look to poke, and people around him begin to plead. Still, he doesn’t want to listen to any of them (not even the other half of his own conscience). We’re all often guilty of this. We know what we know and there’s no way we can be wrong, and we aren’t listening to other ideas so much as we’re just waiting for another chance to underline our own. If instead of that practice we decided to really listen, perhaps we’d all get further. Hell, perhaps we’d all be happier.

THE ARTIST isn’t one of the all-time great silent films, nor does it pretend to be. THE ARTIST is quite simply an achievement in an attention-deprived era. It has decided to ignore the modern tools of entertainment, and instead revisit the blueprints of what got us to this point in cinema. It doesn’t want to be mentioned in the same breath as Buster Keaton, but instead wants us to understand that wonderful stories don’t need massive effects, carefully chosen pop songs, or even colour photography to succeed. They just need a good story.

Matineescore: ★ ★ ★ ★ out of ★ ★ ★ ★

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