The Artist
Directed by Michael Hazanavicius
Distributed by Warner Brothers
There’s an old but very well-known adage that actions speak louder than words.
That’s the creed that famous and charismatic silent movie star George Valentin lives by in the silent film The Artist. Directed by Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist is an ironic tale of the fate of silent cinema. Taking place in Los Angeles during the late 1920s and early 1930s, it’s an artistic narrative on the life of an individual who experiences a personal downfall due to his ego.
Valentin, played by Jean Dujardin, is a silent movie star in 1927. Starring in many successful silent films, he becomes a popular figure in the easily star-struck public.
After attending the premiere of his latest film and posing for the paparazzi, he bumps into a young woman named Peppy Miller, played by Bérénice Bejo, who appears to be just another star-struck fan. He takes a picture with her and she ends up being on the front page of the newspaper along with Valentin.
Miller, determined to make a name for herself in the movie industry, encounters Valentin once more and he takes her under his wing while she begins to fall for him. Miller eventually pushes Valentin out of the public eye. She becomes a rising star in films as they introduce dialogue, but Valentin resists change and sticks to silent films.
The Artist incorporates the qualities of the silent films of the 1920s and still manages to tell a beautiful story today. There’s almost no dialogue in the movie, save for some brief but important moments when the quintessential black screen with white words comes up.
Shot in black and white, it gives the illusion that the movie takes place in that certain era of history, which is imperative to the plot. The movie also makes use of pathetic fallacy to make up for the lack of dialogue, an example being rainy days during sad moments.
However, it’s the music that provides the strongest substitute for the silent words. It identifies the emotional occurrences in the film: a cheery melody in happy moments or an ominous tune whenever Valentin’s wife is on-screen.
The silent nature of the movie is undoubtedly the mystique of The Artist. It differentiates it from most entertainment mediums and methods today. While a sitcom on TV depends on laugh tracks to incite a reaction from the audience, The Artist relies on exaggerated actions and melodramatic moments to relay the message to the audience.
But the most powerful aspect of the film’s silence is the mystery that’s provided to the audience.
Throughout the film, Valentin argues with directors and producers as to why he refuses to do talkies, but with no audible dialogue, we don’t know why he’s so against them. It’s only during the final moment of the film when the reason for his disdain for talkies is revealed.
The Artist is a stunningly pleasant change of pace from the usual releases of action movies and romantic comedies. It must be commended for taking a dead medium and using it to tell an ironic narrative of its own downfall.
