Movie Review: The Artist

Yes, yes, yes, this is the way movies should be made, this is how they were made all the time, back in the day. You know the time I'm talking about, the time where people like Orson Welles, Hitchcock, and Billy Wilder were making movies. Back when Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin had the creative freedom to make any movie they wanted, back when Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced along great art deco of the 1930s, back before all this digital technology, even before the days of television or that infernal Internet thing.

It's no doubt "The Artist" will bring up feelings for the biggest movie lover of that longing for the good old days when movie projections were bigger than life, I got that feeling right at the opening credits, and the beautiful black and white imagery that I saw. "The Artist" was a treat for the eyes, it captures that feeling of glossy Hollywood very well, complete with a tender love story and a lovable dog.

But that's where the similarities end, I was pleased by it's look, it's grandeur, it's charm, but I realized as I was watching it, what I was longing for were those real classic films that were made way back when, the ones that on more than one occasion took my breath away. What I can say for "The Artist" is, it's not without it's charm, it's an affectionate homage, but at times it feels too self-conscious to bring about that same old feeling we want from movies. At it's best, it succeeds some of the time but not all of the time.

The story of "The Artist" comes right out of the greatest Hollywood hits like "Singin in the Rain", "A Star is Born", and "Sunset BLVD". Jean DuJardin plays George Valetin a matinee silent star who falls for young ingenue Peppy Miller (Berenice Beju). As Hollywood moves from silence to sound, George's star falls, while Peppy's rises, yet the two were meant to be together.

Unlike the films "The Artist" attempts to emulate, the story doesn't resort to edgy satire or the bitterness of Hollywood life, it keeps its happy go-lucky tone throughout. Even when George attempts suicide in his apartment, it's never grim, not as long as he has his plucky dog to go out and find help. This type of film works up to a point, you soon realize it's going to be a happy ending, it has to be, although in my opinion it feels more tacked on than anything else, but perhaps that was another homage to old Hollywood as well, back when movies dealing with alcoholism or suicide were forced by the studio to have it end happily.

For their parts DuJardin and Beju are priceless together, they certainly have the type of charm and charisma to carry this type of conciet a long way, and you root for them to be together. The best scenes for me come near the beginning where they're courtship begins, George is attracted to her right away, they have a couple of charming dance numbers and they both seem to perform on the same wavelength not unlike Astaire and Rogers did.

The best scene for me comes when Peppy sneaks into George's dressing room, and she has a nice playing moment with his dinner jacket, of course George comes in and catches her, it's moments like those where the film seems to have its own personality rather than an homage.

The supporting cast is having fun too harking back to that old style of movie acting, particularly John Goodman who plays a big Hollywood mogul, James Cromwell who plays Georges faithful chauffeur, and Penelope Ann Miller who plays his long suffering wife. Miller in particular is underused, and she gets some of our sympathy which hints that maybe George isn't all he's cracked up to be, instead she's conveniently tossed aside in order to focus on the real love story between Peppy and George.

I was indeed happy to see "The Artist" on the big screen, it gives off that certain feeling of being in an old movie theatre and being in the golden days of movie making, perhaps a cartoon and a newsreel at the beginning would've heightened the experience even more. But the more I thought about it, the more I wasn't entirely fulfilled, all it made me feel was deep nostaliga for those real classic films I could watch to no end.

"The Artist" was charming but I don't believe it deserved Best Picture, for me that honor would go to Woody Allen's film "Midnight in Paris", a charming film itself, but far more contemporary and actually uses satire to make a point about the past it reflects. "The Artist" seems more like a film of the moment, and much like the past itself, it's something that is fleeting.