The Artist

What a treat. I left the theater sort of floating. Delighted. A European film looking back at Hollywood better than Hollywood has been able to do for years. "A Star Is Born" and "Singing In The Rain" mixed in a glorious black and white cocktail. Silent, yes silent! But with a fabulous score and so much panache. Jean Dujardin is the revelation of the year. What a performance! Running the gamut of emotions, leaving us breathless, and if this wasn't enough, a rousing tap dance routine in the style of Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell, partnering with the wonderful Berenice Bejo. I know that it's not just me. The audience applauded and cheered as the end credits rolled.

... and I have to say that because I am familiar with that period of time, I think this is very well done. It has its own unique path, but if I had to pin it down I'd say it was A Star Is Born meets Singin In the Rain, although it avoids the depths of drama of the former as well as the comic highs of the latter. It is a very good mix of drama and comedy. Throw in Eddie from Frasier and you pretty much have it. And now on to the story.

George Valentin is a huge silent star in 1927. One night at a premiere of one of his movies a fan of his, Peppy Miller, has a chance encounter with him and in front of the crowd and the cameras she snatches a kiss from him with the headlines reading "Who's that girl?". George's wife is not amused but Peppy manages to get into George's Kinograph Studios and get work as an extra on the strength of it.

Even in the silent era, Peppy slowly works her way up the credits from just a girl in the chorus to strong supporting roles. Then sound comes in and she is put under contract as one of the "fresh new faces" of Kinograph when that studio converts completely to sound, where she stars in one hit film after another. Meanwhile, George no longer has a studio home as his producer (John Goodman) tells him that audiences will want new stars to match the new technology.

As George's fortunes decline everybody abandons him including his wife who has been showing signs (she blackens his teeth out when he is on the cover of Variety) of being unhappy since we first meet her. Only his loyal dog and butler/chauffeur stand by him. What will become of him? Watch and find out.

Visually this film gets everything right. The hairstyles, the fashions, the car models, and the architecture are correct for the 1920s and early 1930s. Everything about it reminds me of a film from the early 1930s - it's not meant to make you think too hard. It has some dramatic moments, but it is meant to make you leave feeling good, as the Great Depression was serious enough without adding to it.

«We didn't need dialogs, we had faces» said the narcissistic Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) in Billy Wilder' "Sunset Boulevard", referring to the Silent Era, when she used to be big … before the 'pictures got small'.

The reason of this introduction is that after watching Michel Hazanavicius' critically acclaimed: "The Artist", I strongly felt this was the perfect illustration to Norma Desmond's iconic eulogy. From beginning to end, my eyes never ceased to be amazed by the communicative smile of Jean Dujardin as George Valentin, the aging silent movie star and the sparkling eyes of Berenice Bejo as Peppy Miller, the young and flamboyant starlet. Their faces occupy the screen with such an electrifying magnetism that they don't just steal the scenes, they steal the dialogs … literally.

I was awestruck by Dujardin's performance. To those who didn't grew up with French TV programs, he's one of the most popular and talented comedians of his generation. Dujardin created the character of Brice de Nice, a blonde surfer whose specialty was to 'diss people', but it was so funny it never sounded mean-spirited. He was a member of a cult comic-troop (who made sketches à la SNL) but even back then, he had a little something that made him special: a voice, a smile, a charisma in both TV and movies, in both dramatic and comedic register. There was no doubt in France that the guy who was famous for his impressions of Robert De Niro and the camel (and even De Niro doing the camel) was promised to a brilliant career.

Look closely at Jean Dujardin's face, it's like drawn with 'classic' features: the finely traced mustache who builds a Fairbanks-like charisma like the strength from Samson's hair, the dazzling smile making him look like the lost son of Gene Kelly, and a certain macho toughness reminding of a young Sean Connery. Dujardin's face is a gift from cinematic Gods, and "The Artist" finally lets it glide, earning him the Cannes Festival Award for Best Actor. I sincerely believe he deserves an Oscar nomination, because he just doesn't play an actor from the Silent Era, he embodies the Era with the same level of demented craziness as Norma Desmond, in a brighter and more light-hearted side.

Valentin's self-absorption echoes Desmond's cynical ego while his gaudy 'Don Lockwood' mask (Gene Kelly in "Singin' in the Rain") hides the more poignant face of his insecurity. He's the star of the screen because only the screen allows him to express his unique talent. While Lockwood had to adapt to the 'talking' revolution, George Valentin makes a conservative U Turn starting an inexorable descent into madness, from an outcast, to a has-been until being finally alienated by his own talkie-phobia. The direction is so clever that it challenges many times our perceptions, creating unexpected feelings of discomfort when real sounds are heard. But I was surprised to see how much it worked on a dramatic level.

And this is the strength of the film, although I expect it to discomfort some viewers: it isn't a tribute in the literary meaning of the word. It has its moments where it tricks us into the use of sounds or dialogs, but never fails to distract us from the core of the story: the romance. Very quickly, we forget about spotting the hints, the references to silent classics: chase scenes, over-the-top comical gesticulations, slapstick jokes etc. This mindset would disappoint those who expected a film with the same material as Mel Brook's "Silent Movie", which was clearly a tribute. "The Artist" IS a silent movie, featuring a beautiful romance between George and Peppy, who got her break with an idea from George, something that would make her different from the other actresses: a beauty spot above the upper lip. A clever credit-billing montage depicts her consequent ascension to stardom until she finally dethrones George and makes a has-been out of him.

If I mentioned the performance of Dujardin, Berenice Bejo also deserves some accolades because she succeeded in looking so "old" from our POV yet so fresh and modern in the film, with the appealing feel-good and optimistic attitude she constantly brings on screen. With her doll-face and youngish smile, she's like a cute little girl enjoying what she does. In a way, Peppy Miller embodies the film's most inspirational element: a positive message about passion and enjoyment. And this indirectly highlights George's source of troubles: being deprived from what he enjoyed the most and suffering from his progressive fading into oblivion. Along with this conflict, the evolution of George and Peppy's romance never feels forced, quite an accomplishment when we consider how slightly over-the-top silent movie stars used to act.

Both Dujardin and Bejo are indeed powerful in an Oscar-worthy level and at that moment, I can't continue without mentioning the third character of the film, George's dog. The relationship between George and the dog provides a sort of Chaplinesque feel to the movie, a mix of tenderness and poignancy, so natural and convincing I wonder if the Academy will think of a honorary Oscar. Anyway, I applaud Hazanivicius for not having reduced "The Artist" to a flashy spectacle with no substance, with the word 'homage' as the director's convenient alibi, and make a touching romance about two people who met each other at a pivotal time in the history of film-making, each representing a side of cinema, the old-school silent generation: Chaplin, Keaton, Pickford and the exuberant talkers: Grant, Hepburn, Davis … And I'm glad he found the true note to reconcile between these two universes at the end … didn't I tell you Dujardin was the lost son of Gene Kelly?

"The Artist" plays like a missing link between "Singin' in the Rain" and "Sunset Boulevard" and it's indeed one of the best films of 2011, with the absence of words as an endearing 'beauty spot'.

The Artist is a well-made if not particularly involving homage to the silent films of the 1920s. The film itself looks beautiful, and makes interesting use of its lack of sound. However, the story lacks interest, and is as clichéd as the silent films it pays tribute to.

The artist of the title is George Valentin, a silent film star caught in a loveless marriage to a petulant starlet. He gives a jump start to the career of actress Peppy Miller after kissing her at a premiere. However, he soon finds his stardom dwarfed by hers after the debut of talkies and losing his fortune in the stock market collapse.

The film is at its best when it plays with the whole concept of silent movies. The most impressive example is a dream sequence conveying the transition from silent to sound movies. Valentin dreams that his word, previously filled with a silent movie soundtrack, now consumed by overly loud background sounds. This may be the first time in cinematic history in which a dog's bark has conveyed the shift of an entire world.

Unfortunately, the film also suffers from one of the major flaws of silent films in general. Because of the lack of dialogue, The Artist ultimately has a simplistic story with largely one dimensional characters. To a large extent, the plot mimics that of A Star Is Born, focusing on a famous performer ultimately surpassed by his protégé. As a result, the film is boring and predictable.

Furthermore, the film emulates the least interesting of the silent movies. Rather than focusing on the more experimental films that characterized the early years of silent movies, such as The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and D. W. Griffith's work, it looks at the making of genre films. Given that The Artist, by its very nature, is aimed at film buffs with an extensive set of references, one would think they would give attention to more interesting films.

Still, the film's cast does a lot, particularly given the lack of dialogue. Penelope Ann Miller gives Valentin's harpy wife as much dimension as one can to such a one note character. John Goodman is also good as a dictatorial producer.

Jean Dujardin deserved his Palme D'or for his captivating and wonderful performance. Where to start...this film is so clever, so beautifully crafted, so mesmerising. The lost art of the silent film is once again brought to life and that era is impressively recreated, whether it be the acting style, the sets, the locations (shot in Hollywood), the shimmering black and white photography. It is obvious to see that the people behind L'artiste respected that era of film making and wanted to recreate the magic with some modern touches ( I won't spoil them) and totally succeeded. I saw this in Cannes at an 8.30 am press screening and was totally entranced. I cannot wait to see it again!