A black & white homage to a filmic past.

By Brian Zabawski

A witty and charming homage to the silent film era, Michel Hazanavicius’ black & white silent film The Artist is riding a seemingly unlikely round of award nominations and wins. The film has earned 10 Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture.

(UPDATE: THE ARTIST WON FIVE ACADEMY AWARDS, INCLUDING BEST PICTURE AND BEST ACTOR [FOR JEAN DUJARDIN], ALONG WITH EVEN MORE INTERNATIONAL AWARDS.)

However, all the media attention is justified. The Artist is a must-see for anyone seeking an amusing and affecting entertainment, as well as for those interested in movie history, black and white photography and cinematography.

I’ve admired the work of director Hazanavicius’ and actor Jean Dujardin since the appearance of their sharply-conceived Gallic James Bond spoofs, O.S.S. 117-Cairo Nest of Spies and its sequel O.S.S. 117-Lost in Rio, among the funniest and most on-target spy spoofs of that durable genre (which stretches from James Coburn’s Flint series to Mike Meyer’s Austin Powers films). Drenched in a nutty, Gallic sensibility, the O.S.S. 117 films remain distinctive from their better known American and British counterparts, and should be sought-out by admirers of The Artist.

Hazanavicius’ cinematic conceptions perfectly recreate the look and feel of genre and era, and Dujardin emerged in these films as a significant comic actor. Now with Dujardin's performance as the befuddled silent-movie star in The Artist, he may be establishing himself as one of the most versatile comic actors to appear on the scene since Peter Sellers.

Audiences should not be put off by The Artist being both a silent and a black & white movie. For one thing, it is hardly silent. The sound design, incorporating music and extensive sound effects, is distinctively contemporary. And if you accept the concept, you won’t miss the spoken word.

The lack of dialogue is an essential part of the storytelling. The dilemma of the silent-film actor who refuses to accept the new conventions of talkies is boldly articulated by (what the viewer slowly realizes is) a dream of Dujardin’s character: the Fairbanks-esque George Valentin.

Valentin, alone in his dressing room, is confronted by an array of everyday sounds intruding on his peace. But when he tries to speak, no sound emerges. He races to the studio backlot where he sees a group of female extras closing in, laughing, it seems, at him. But an infuriating silence is all he can summon. It’s an apt dramatic metaphor for this study of a silent actor’s stubborn, self-induced career fall.

While sound is certainly an important element of The Artist, it is the strength of the images created by Hazanavicius and his adroit cinematographer, Guillaume Schiffman, (also a veteran of the OSS-117 films) which carry the film.

It was shot on color 35mm negative stock (Kodak Vision 3 500T 5219) and then desaturated of color in post production to achieve a flawless B&W tonal range. (Using color camera stock has become standard practice for B&W feature films, as there is a much greater choice of film emulsions available, and conversion to B&W during digital post production works well.) The Artist was also filmed in the boxy aspect ratio of the pre-widescreen era (1.33:1) and cranked down slightly to 22 frames per second to mimic the jagged motion of silent-era’s speed of 18 frames per second, according to American Cinematographer.

The images of The Artist perfectly evoke the silent and early talkie era, but with a clean, sharp, contemporary sheen. The Artist wisely presents the look of a newly printed B&W film from the late 1930s or 1940s – sharp, fine-grained with a pleasing dark-shadowed contrast ratio. The effect is somewhat similar to viewing a film made in B&W in the 1950s or 1960s that depicts the silent movie era, like Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard or Robert Aldrich’s What Ever Happened To Baby Jane.

Superbly-designed montage sequences illustrate the fall of silent-star Valentin and the simultaneous rise of his protégé and lover, Peppy Miller, wonderfully played by Berenice Bejo. Framed with the canted angles and high-contrast lighting of the silent era, the montages rise above rote imitation and are another perfectly conceived element of “The Artist’s” integration of humor and pathos.

The film’s most memorable, enchanting and funny sequence is the pivotal scene of Valentin and Miller’s first appearance together in one of Valentin’s last silent vehicles. As Valentin guides novice actress Miller through a series of filmed takes, he attempts some dashing dance moves only to have them spoiled by some comedic physical misplay. As the two attempt take after take of this business, the comic bumbling gives way to a palpable attraction between the two. The scene is both funny and touching. This sequence also proves pivotal to the plot, when, late in the movie, it is the only film can saved from a fire in Valentin’s shabby apartment – and Miller realizes Valentin’s depth of feelings toward her.

Shot on studio interiors in Hollywood, The Artist also utilizes actual locations in and around Hollywood that are a time capsule of early 20th-century architecture and design. Beverly Hills and Hollywood are filled with well-preserved examples of design that evokes an amalgam of faux-Spanish, American western, English country-home and art-deco moderne styles to great effect. There is even a sequence shot in the stairwell of downtown L.A.’s venerable Bradbury building, a location that may be familiar to moviegoers from its frequent screen appearances in films from Blade Runner to Marlowe.

An excellent supporting cast includes John Goodman in an amusing turn as a Coen brothers-like studio-head and James Cromwell is distinctive as Valentin’s (and later Miller’s) driver. Penelope Ann Miller, as George’s neglected wife, deserves a special nod. It’s a rare recent screen appearance for this actress, who seems underutilized by producers as she advances to middle-age. And last but not least is Valentin’s lovable terrier companion, Uggie – an adorable canine character that brings to mind Asta from the Thin Man films. 

As noted, The Artist is a special treat for those who appreciate the look of black & white cinematography and for lovers of the wonders of cinema’s past and present. And, perhaps more significantly, for anyone who just wants a good time at the movies.

--ends--

Released by the Weinstein Company. Golden Globe 2012 award winner for Best Picture (comedy) Best Actor-Comedy (Dujardin) Best Score. Also winner of 3 British Film Critics Awards, including Best Picture.