It is quite telling about the state of Hollywood that the most enigmatic film of the
Oscar line-up is a movie that recalls the prominence and glamour of the Golden
Age, a period almost a hundred years past. The Artist is a walk down memory lane
which reveals Hollywood’s longing for what once was, but even more so it expresses
sheer disappointment with the cinema of today.
The film tells the story of George Valentin – a character
loosely inspired by a real silent film star of the 1920’s, Rudolph Valentino. George is
at the top of his game, making one hit film after another while simultaneously getting praise
from audiences and producers. At one of his film premieres he accidentally meets
a young aspiring actress and soon-to-be star, Peppy Miller. Her character’s origin is a bit harder to
identify than Valentin’s; there is something of Greta Garbo’s relentlessness in
her smug attitude towards fame, mixed with the innocence of a girl-next-door
type supplied by the likes of Marilyn Monroe. The two make an emotional connection
which is tested by a gradual change of dynamics between them as George loses
his estate and career while Peppy becomes the most successful star of the ‘talkies’
era.
The film captures one of the most significant moments in the
entire history of cinematography – the beginning of the sound film era which
radically changed the perception of the cinematic experience. The film’s obvious
metaphor is the director’s commentary on where cinema is today. The beginning
of 2011 saw some of the most prominent film critics and scholars labelling this
decade as the beginning of the age of post-cinema. The most recent
transformation of cinematography from a theatre-based projection into an
omnipresent virtual stream of audio-visual images is possibly just as
revolutionary as the synchronised sound was in the 1920’s/ 30’s. Yet for many of
us the invention of services as pay-per-view, iTunes, Bluray or
Netflix don’t come as shocking. In the consumerist market we are expected to be
prepared for constant improvements of our electronic devices and expansion of services
offered to us. Many of us don't even realise how significant these changes are and how different the relationship between films and cinema-goers is now from what it was a few decades ago.
And this is where The
Artist comes in. The film is a reflection on all of these technological achievements
and more. By utilising the cinema’s most archaic aesthetic devices from
intertitles to the over-emphasised body language and facial expressions the
film brings our attention to the language of film and its use in engaging with
our emotions. It reminded me of what once Michael Haneke once did in his Funny Games when the director crafted a
very thrilling and at times terrifying story just to expose our instinctive compulsion
to connect with the fictional characters. Of course Hazavanicius’ The Artist is much more subtle that
Haneke’s Funny Games. He conveys his
critique very appropriately to the era he portrays, through his characters’
overjoyed smiles and positive attitude as well as naive laughter and corny
jokes.
The Artist is even more charming when it implements its game of aesthetics – most notably in the dream sequence in which George feels
trapped by his inability to speak in a world that suddenly gains sound. The
film ends on a positive note with Valentin finally catching up with the new
industrial standards of the ‘talkies’ era and taking one step ahead with his
female counterpart Peppy by seducing their befriended producer (John Goodman) with
an idea for a musical. That scene alone captures cinema's continuous evolution and hybridisation as a conundrum for the industry
which keeps re-adapting and reinventing itself. The Artist encapsulates that industrial challenge but at the same
time it shows that there is no time to grieve. The show must go on!
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