The Artist - One for the dying expression of...silence

Director: Michael Hazanavicius
Language: Silence and English
Release Year: 2011
Rating: * * * *

I’ve always held the belief that when it comes to movies, sound, dialogues and music are mere auxiliaries. The real soul of any movie is the story, followed by the way it’s captured on celluloid and the actors who enact it on screen. That is not to say that Talkies are not worthy of recognition. But I wouldn’t fret if movies were just moving pictures, briefly interrupted by intertitles (the technical word for onscreen texted dialogues) just to break the silence once in a while. For support of my claim and testament to the same, just watch Charlie Chaplin’s perpetually beautiful City Lights. Personally, I can do without the intertitles, too.

Now moving forward with the movie in question, The Artist. The story takes place when Hollywood was basking in the glory of silent movies. People were in awe of the moving-picture technology, and Hollywood was manufacturing stories of grand proportion to keep the masses hooked to this technology. The demand for fantasy and the supply of manipulated stories of grandeur, thrills, love, tragedies and the ubiquitous happy endings, kept both the sides happy and coming for more. George Valentini (Jean Dujardin), the protagonist, is the decorated cog in this machinery. People love him, ladies are mesmerized by him and he’s aware of it. He never misses a beat to hog the limelight, in fact, the limelight follows him and he never disappoints it. In that era, he’s the life and soul of silent movies. As is the case even now, people paid to come and see him, the star, rather than movie he was a part of. The appreciation, the admiration, the fame, has left an indelible mark of pride on him. He can’t shake that off, which becomes the instrument of his decline later in the movie. He’s married to an ageing housewife, with whom he shares the same real estate, but not his feelings, not anymore. Evidently, their marriage is hanging by a thread. Neither of the party is willing to take the initiative to break the monotony of silence between them. Their marriage is disintegrating, and this is made clear by the fact that George prefers dining out with his loyal driver (James Cromwell), rather than his own wife. Maybe it’s the age, maybe it’s the misplaced sense of priorities, maybe it’s the stagnancy of their, now, loveless marriage, maybe it’s all of the above in varying proportions. The fact of the matter is, their marriage is inconsequential to the entire proceedings in the movie, and is handled merely as a passing reference. It does add few syllables to describing the character of George, though.

Soon enters Ms. Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo ), an aspiring actress. Enamored by the glitz, glamor and the dangling carrot called fame, she tries her luck, and soon hits paydirt. But before that, she runs into George during a photo-shoot, and sparks fly at both ends. It’s no secret that like everyone else, she, too, is infatuated with this larger-than-life personality of George. It doesn’t take too much frame-time for this infatuation to blossom into something much softer. Those feelings, however, are sidetracked for a brief moment, while she and her ambition take the tinsel town by storm, albeit gradually. She climbs the ladder of movie roles, from extras that blend in the crowd, to characters making brief appearances, to supporting actors, and finally, to the name that hoards much of the space on the poster. She now shares the same celebrity status that George has been wearing on his sleeve all this long. But a change in the smooth flow is inevitable, and it goes by the name “Talkies”.

The Hollywood recognizes the need of the hour, and prepares for the transition. Everyone boards the “Talkies” bandwagon, except George Valentin. He’s steadfast in his belief that Talkies is not the future, and scoffs at anyone preaching that, which happens to be everyone in this case. George is stuck in the era gone by. Pride washes him over, and he decides to take on the entire Hollywood industry and the technology of Talkies. He decides to make a silent movie, one that would steamroll the Talkies. He goes all in, invests every ounce and penny he has to make the movie of his life. However, I disagree that there’s only pride that gets George engulfed in obscurity and anonymity. I somehow believe that he has such faith in his art-form, such devotion towards the work he does, and trusts his fan following so much, that he has somehow deluded himself in playing the game with just one card. At the opposite end of the spectrum, is Ms. Peppy Miller. She’s more than happy to go with the flow, which brings her the desired recognition, fortune and glory. She understands and recognizes the fact that ultimately, it’s the audience that decides where the industry goes, and what is the next big thing. Her adaptation to these changing times is what keeps her from becoming irrelevant and forgotten, unlike George. While George’s name starts to fade and fade rapidly, Peppy becomes a household name, dancing on everyone’s lips and in everyone’s imagination. From this point on, it’s the industry and the world against George’s hubris and single-minded approach towards his life and profession. The climax is almost anybody’s guess, but it’s the journey wherein lies the pleasure.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but the moment I saw Jean, somehow Clark Gable’s name flooded my senses. It’s as if the latter had embodied this French actor. The comparison only goes to show how brilliant Jean was in his role. He exudes charm, panache, and immeasurable magnetism. Those little smirks, the free-flowing gait, the beguiling smile enhanced further by those pencil-trimmed moustache, they all reminded me of the actors of yesteryear, Clark Gable in particular, to reiterate. Jean’s portrayal of a personality, who’s consumed by his work and his self-importance, was a delight worthy of reveling in time and again. Penny Miller was adorable to say the least. Her depiction of Penny’s ingenuousness in the early parts of the movie was as guileless and innocent as they come. Her transformation into a star and the befitting nuances she adopts to portray that character without losing that inherent innocence is a pleasure to watch. Although her character doesn’t have too much bearing on the movie’s story, I always welcomed her presence. There’s once scene where she plays with George’s suit. Even though the scene lasts for about a minute, it’s beautifully rendered, and Penny’s expression underscores her longing for George’s character.

This film goes to show the diversity of the director’s (Michael Hazanvicius) repertoire. I mostly remember him for his spy-spoofs from the “OSS 117” franchise. There is a hint of humor in this movie as well, but it’s mostly synonymous to the upbeat nature of the story in the first part of the movie. The movie quickly devolves into somberness and tragedy, which the director handles with an astonishing grip. It takes a great amount of confidence and bravura to produce a silent movie in the era of mind-numbing 3D gimmick, where music scores overwhelm the volumes that silence speak, and where a string of dialogues are mostly treated as a mandatory chain that links two sequences of mindless action. In the end, the movie is a sheer treat in simple, no-nonsense film-making. The approach is fundamentally sound, the story is straight-forward enough that it doesn’t get lost in translation. The characters are likable, believable and which you’d like to root for, and the actors playing them leave you desiring for more. A simple and a heartwarming tale of the identity lost in ego, the learning curve one passes by while salvaging what’s left, and the eventual comeuppance. Inadvertently, the movie, to me at least, is also a statement of what really matters in a movie, but mostly gets overlooked by the masses and adorned by classes in these times of extensive technological aberration the art of storytelling is subjected to. But that is for another day. For now, this gem comes highly recommended.