The Artist

The Artist has exactly one trick up its sleeve, it’s a silent film in 2011, and it plays it plainly and uninventively. From my shamefully limited experience watching silent classics, the film feels incredibly tamed and derivative when compared to those. The physical performances lacks a kinetic rhythm and the actors themselves carry less charm than the likes of Chaplin or Lloyd. The set and the people in them do not come close to matching those risky and innovative performers. Perhaps that’s the reason those 100 year old movies are still being talked about while this one has disappeared from the public’s peripheral after 10 years. Because one can simply watch the classics instead of going for the one that pays blend tribute to them.

The silent to sound narrative is done by far superior films with far more to offer, such as Singing in the Rain or even over a year ago, Babylon. George, played by Jean Dujardin is a man who literally cannot speak up to adjust into the future. The film uses some clever sound design choices to emphasize that point and the ending somehow made me believe the reason his inability to do so is his heavy French accent. The story itself is fine, Hazanavicius accomplishes the challenge of using only visual and musical elements to convey the downward trajectory or a man and the romantic elements. The film provides a competent, emotional journey, but the film’s unexpectedly serious tone and lack of whim often contradicts its goofy plot points such as Uggy finding the policeman and the bank adding a note telling George to go see Peppy’s new film under his two-day notice. Other than the brief nod in the end, the film feels too complacent as a frivolous ode to Old Hollywood than a more audacious revision of the past that puts history into current context. It offers vapid context on the old studio system and offers no reasoning for this film being made in present day. It’s fine and watchable, everything except Uggy goes nothing beyond serviceable.