The Artist (Jean Dujardin, Berenice Bejo, John Goodman, James Cromwell, Penelope Ann Miller) – Wow! My favorite for Best Picture, The Artistis by far the most unique movie of the year. Ostensibly, it is a silent film, complete with an exquisite soundtrack, black-and-white photography, great acting (or purposeful over-acting), and stars who light up the screen. I have no idea when the last time, if ever, a foreign film won Best Picture but The Artist will almost certainly join the small list of nominees for the honor. Now, I know what you’re saying: “What does it matter if this is foreign film if it’s silent?, that is, without dialogue. “That’s a good point,” I answer, since the film is set in Hollywood. But the film is so French that you can’t but help feel like you are watching a foreign movie, even if the supporting cast is almost all American (John Goodman in a much talked-about performance; James Cromwell as the chauffeur and assistant to the movie star; and Penelope Ann Miller as the unhappy wife of the star).
The male star is Jean Dujardin playing George Valentin, silent movie star and huge box office draw as our film opens in 1927. He is the toast of Hollywood and loved by his many female admirers, include starry-eyed Peppy Miller, played by Argentinean actress, Benenice Bejo. Beautiful, talented, and warm-hearted, Peppy moves from movie extra (thanks to Valentin) to a star in her own right once the “talkies” take the film world by storm from their inception in 1929 through the early ‘30s. Valentin’s career spirals downhill when studio owner Al Zimmer decides that George can’t make the move to talking pictures and that the stars of the future will be younger. (Dujardin plays older than his 40 years while Bejo plays much younger than her real age of 35).
Their paths cross occasionally but this isn’t a love story. It is one actor’s decline and another’s ascension … at least for most of the film. Valentin’s pride gets in the way as he is forced — by new technology, a bad business decision to invest in a new silent movie vehicle for himself, and a stock market crash – to sell most of his possessions. Valentin is “so done!” Peppy is hotter than hot. And then their lives converge again.
In this day and age of special effects-driven cinema, blasting soundtracks, 9-figure budgets, and star-laden casts, The Artist is dumbfoundedly cheap ($12 million), simply plotted, and visually stunning without color. The selective use of sound to usher in the talking age of film is so clever that you’ll laugh. And speaking of chuckling, the film is full of them. But it is also touching, dramatic and even tense (at least for a few minutes).
Dujardin, who won Best Actor at Cannes, is the spitting image of Clark Gable though his character is almost certainly patterned after Rudolph Valentino, who only lived until 1926 and age 31 but who had several ups and downs to his career. Bejo looks like an all-American girl but has a mysterious, innocent look that morphs from teenager to young cutey to beautiful woman despite being relatively unsexy. The supporting cast is just fine and must have found The Artist to be a real change of pace. Goodman has the facial qualities to mug for the cameras in a way that makes his portrayal perfect. Cromwell looks the least comfortable but pulls off the loyal servant in a mature and sensitive manner.
If you miss this film at your local art house (I see that it is not playing Des Moines yet), that would be a shame. But I bet it will play the mainstream theaters when the Academy Award nominations come out. Make a pledge to see it if you are a film buff at all.