The Artist

If you've heard anything about The Artist, allow me to set things straight- yes, it is actually a silent film. It's a film about the era of Classical Hollywood silent film making, centring around the tragic decline of silent film star George Valentin's career when the birth of sound cinema, "Talkies" as they were called back in the day, came into play. As Valentin's career falls apart around him a young aspiring actress Peppy Miller's soars to the heights of fame as she is swept up by the studios as the demand for "Talkies" rises. A complex romantic relationship between Valentin and Miller effectively ties these two parallel plots together into a seamless whole. The Artist doesn't just tell a story set within a particular era but masterfully espouses the cinematographic, acoustic and quaint qualities of the films produced in the period. It genuinely feels like you're watching an old 1920-30's silent film, and I mean that in the best way possible. The combination of highly theatrical performances, charming soundtrack, perfectly pitched emotional peaks/troughs and a brilliant, brilliant dog left me with a contented smile on my face and a sprightly spring in my step throughout the film and for hours afterwards.

First and foremost it seems important to talk about the silence of the film. I have to say I was genuinely surprised at the boldness to produce a silent film in today's cinematic climate of high octane visuals and acoustics. Studios desperately try to sustain audience attention through sonic overload, which for the most part seems to be depressingly effective-as the dominance of 3D displays. By deleting such a key element of film, on screen sound, which is indelible to all contemporary mainstream, "art-house" and even avant garde films The Artist not only shows bravery and strength of vision but manages to highlight an almost mystical quality to the image that has arguably been lost in recent years. The subtraction paradoxically operates as an addition to the film, allowing the images to speak very much for and of themselves. Not only do the shots in the film eloquently display the style of the period they also seem to frequently explicitly reference some classics of old. There's some very nice allusions to The Public Enemy, Duck Soup and the later (but no less relevant) CitizenKane to look out for. I'm also pretty certain that George Valentin is a nun too subtle reference to the hugely famous silent film star RudolphValentino. Fortunately these references remain subtle and don't suffocate like a Tarantino movie might; it remains very much its own film.

The centrality of focus on the image within The Artist also inescapably highlights the actors' performances. Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo are dazzling as Valentin and Miller respectively. Both manage to recall the highly theatrical style of performances associated with the period as well as managing to tone down their performances into a more subtle nuance for the softer and more emotional scenes.Whilst the relationship between Miller and Valentin is incredibly saccharine and predictable it really doesn't seem to matter and if anything that's sort of the point; their inherently cinematically constructed relationship sets up and contributes to The Artist's veneration and celebration of the cinematic. Valentin's dog also deserves a huge shout out for being a really nice guy and providing some delightfully saccharine and humorous moments throughout the film. John Goodman has a small supporting role and is a pleasure to watch on screen as always, his huge face greedily puffing away at cigars is an experience like no other. There's also a completely bizarre cameo from Malcolm McDowell, the purpose of which continues to confuse me somewhat.

A common misconception with silent films is that they're totally silent. Whereas they were actually anything but silent as a musical score would commonly play over the entirety of the picture, as is pretty much the case with The Artist. The soundtrack is used in a very classical sense, shifting in tone and tempo to reflect the mood and atmosphere of each scene. With charming vaudevillian numbers to enhance the exaggerated, slapstick sequences and softer, sombre songs to reflect the more emotive moments. While by and large the score is incredibly effective it does start to become a tad tedious and repetitive in the last quarter of the film. It's surprising and to The Artist's credit that the rest of the film didn't become at all tedious considering that most silent films of the 20's/30's would clock in way under the standard 90 minutes of our contemporary feature lengths. To captivate an audience for 100 minutes is hard enough at the best of times, let alone without the use of sound.

The Artist's plot in many ways seems arbitrary, it's more used as a framework in which to explore the allusive and magical qualities that are present in a largely lost era of cinema which is now nearing a century in age. The images and soundtrack of the film articulately recall the past whilst allowing for contemporary innovation and development. It's a charming watch from beginning to end and I can almost guarantee it will put a smile on your face. While this is not explicitly a Christmas film at all it seems comparable in aesthetic, structure and tone to the all time family favourite and Christmas classic It's a Wonderful Life. Like Its a Wonderful Life, The Artist manages to capture a genuine feeling of warmth and sympathy for it's characters which renders you emotionally enthralled from the get go. On this line of festive thought I would say for my money The Artist is a better choice of family film this Christmas that Scorsese's Hugo. Hugo spends a great deal of time trying to explore the same themes as The Artist but without the same sense of noble grace and subtle charisma (it's in 3D and has Sacha Baron Cohen in).