Silence is Golden.....I Hope

My wife, my mother and I went to see The Artist the other day.    I have to admit that I was not terribly enthusiastic.  It looked like it would be just a gimmick; a silent and black and white movie.     Not that I dislike either.  I have watched and enjoyed several silent movies, including at least two that were referenced in The Artist. One of my all-time favorite movies, UP, goes all but silent (except for the score, which makes me weep pavlovian-like almost every time I hear it) for more than 10 minutes early on to tell you almost the entire story of the main character’s life up to that point.  I consider those ten minutes among the best ever put on film.  And I grew up watching movies mostly on a black and white TV, so color has never been a necessity to my enjoyment of movies.  At least two black and white films are among my personal favorites, Stalag 17 and Young Frankenstein.

My wife and my mother were both pretty enthusiastic about watching it though, so I went along.   And within a few minutes of the start of the movie I was totally hooked.  I may have to re-do my list of 10 favorite movies of all time. Is it deserving of a Best Picture Oscar?   I’d say yes, but I don’t have a vote.

The opening scene reminded me immediately of Metropolis, if only because of the science fictiony electrical doo-hicky the hero of the movie within a movie is wearing, with the requisite bolts of lightning coming off it. He is being tortured, and yelling “I won’t speak!  I won’t say a word!”.  And therein lies the problem for the actor George Valentin.  He is a silent movie star in a time when talkies are about to become all the rage.

I won’t go into a lot of detail about how George see his star fall with the advent of talkies, or how the young woman he accidentally helps get into the movie business becomes a rising star in the new medium.  Suffice it to say that while the material may be familiar to anyone who has seen Sunset Boulevard or Singin’ in the Rain, it is done with such wit, humor and panache that it makes said material new.   Jean Dujardin as George Valentin is a revelation.   He’s Douglas Fairbanks and Gene Kelly all rolled into one, with a little Chaplin thrown in for good measure.  He is, I suspect, what Jim Carey always wanted to be.   You find yourself rooting for him right from the start, even as he descends into despair and near madness.   And Beranice Bejo isn't just another pretty face.  She is beautiful, yes, but she is also a terrific actress.  There is a lot going on in that face besides a pretty smile.  Her eyes convey a myriad of emotions without saying a word.   Like the Nora Desmond in Sunset Boulevard she and Dejardin don’t need dialog.  They have faces that tell you all you need to know.

Everyone involved in this film is terrific, from John Goodman to Uggie the Jack Russell Terrier, who steals every scene he is in.  Of course my dog could do all those stunts too.  He just doesn’t want to.  The score is terrific, among the very best I have ever heard.  My mother made a special note of it, and we all agreed that it would be tragic if it didn’t win an Oscar.

Near the end is one of my favorite moments in the movie.  A completely broken man now, George stands outside a men’s haberdashery, looking at a set of clothes in the window.   It is the white tie and black tails he used to wear in all of his movies.   You see his face reflected in the window, superimposed just over the collar of that suit of clothes, and for a moment you see a wry smile on his face, as he remembers the man he used to be.  It is an echo of the scene at the end of City Lights when Chaplin looks into the window of a flower shop, and remembers the little flower girl he once loved and lost.  Both are poignant moments, beautifully rendered and made special only because of the talent of the two great performers.  In both movies you sense that the director had a choice.  End there, with that poignant moment, and garner the admiration of reviewers who love a sad or enigmatic ending, or move on and give the audience the happy ending they want.

It won’t spoil anything I think to say that the Artist gives you that well earned happy ending, although things continue pretty grimly for George for a while longer.   How do they get there from that scene of a sad, broken man literally looking at the reflection of a past beyond reclaiming?   I Know, But I’m Not Telling.