Directed by:
Michel HazanaviciusScreenplay:
Michel HazanaviciusCinematography:
Guillaume SchiffmanComposer:
Ludovic BourceCast:
Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, John Goodman, James Cromwell, Penelope Ann Miller, Missi Pyle, Beth Grant, Ed Lauter, Elizabeth Tulloch, Ken Davitian (more)VOD (2)
Plots(1)
Hollywood 1927. George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a silent movie superstar. The advent of the talkies will sound the death knell for his career and see him fall into oblivion. For young extra Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo), it seems the sky’s the limit major movie stardom awaits. The Artist tells the story of their interlinked destinies. (Entertainment in Video)
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Reviews (12)
Playful and in love with film. If it hadn't forcefully slid into the existential realm and screamed so boldly about "silent" emotions in the last act, The Artist would have been the daredevil of the year and now rightfully collecting its laurels. As it is, I can't escape the feeling of a slightly desired gradation that works a bit less in this form than it could, but in the end, I still have to praise it. The main couple shines in every smile or dance, period films force me into nostalgia, and the retro soundtrack works so perfectly that I devoured the transformation into the twenties to the last frame. As a whole, however, due to the aforementioned, only 75%.
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Perhaps, with its trivial plot, it relies too much on the nostalgic mood of the target audience and on its own formal uniqueness in the flood of Hollywood mainstream, but The Artist is such a beautiful piece of filmmaking. It isn’t thought-provoking or groundbreaking, but wonderfully fresh, witty and authentic, nicely removed from the postmodern plagiarist guise. Emotionally mature, emotionally gripping. 80%
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Those who know my ratings a little will be well aware that I am not a fan of silent movies. My relationship with them is similar as with pizza Margherita: I have nothing personal against it, but without at least ham, it doesn’t quite make it. And that’s the reason why I wasn’t that excited about this movie; at worst, I expected an unlikeable romantic and artsy Oscar bait, and at best, a bearable and sincere but rather boring movie. I was wrong, The Artist couldn’t have been a more pleasant surprise. It’s a very entertaining, nice and charming movie that doesn’t need sound. But when it does use some sound, it’s worth it (e.g. the nightmare). It left me with a feeling that none of this year’s other Oscar contenders did: having watched a truly exceptional movie. So I’m really rooting for it, and I’m saying this as someone who normally appreciates movies that are more progressive in their contents or format over “retro” ones (like The Social Network over The King’s Speech last year). 9/10
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I wasn't particularly impressed with the previous effort of the director and the two main actors, Agent 117, but I couldn't deny one thing - it really looked like something from the (roughly) 1960s. In The Artist, the filmmakers have managed to repeat this and to enhance it with a classic, but really nice story full of humor and nostalgia. The illusion that one is really watching a film from 192? is almost perfect (although anyone who has seen the Argentine The Aerial will probably not be impressed). The cinematography, the music, all the details, the central couple (Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford) acting and dancing like a dream, John Goodman, who I liked the most, James Cromwell... Everything's perfect. The Artist is an incredibly clever film. If I wanted to reproach it for anything, I would have to reproach all the old films it is dealing with... Which would be useless.
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The pure charm of film escapism. A film about a time when celluloid burned, which burns itself and yet miraculously does not burn itself with too much reverence and foresight into the past. The work with a soundtrack and a silent film is a famous directorial move, not only because it cleverly brings to the fore what would never have stood out in a spoken film, but also because it is almost ingenious in its simplicity. A silent film that did not elevate its silence to a dubious fetish (let's love how beautiful it was, we will not see that anymore today), but the most significant narrative component (the film is magical in itself, not because it reminds us of something). Hazanavicius did work that I applaud. If any critics wrote of The Descendants as a worked gem, they mistook the film. This is a feel good gem from which my jaw dropped.
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