The Artist (2011)
(L'artiste)
Country: FR/BEL
Technical: bw/1.37:1 100m
Director: Michel Hazanavicius
Cast: Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, Penelope Ann Miller, James Cromwell, John Goodman
Synopsis:
1927: a matinee idol literally bumps into an extra on the rise and helps her get her first bit part. 1929: with her star in the ascendant and himself resistant to the coming of sound he stakes everything on one last silent picture.
Review:
Naturally reminiscent of A Star Is Born and the John Gilbert affair combined, this risky commercial venture confounded all expectation for a crossover French film in being a huge international success. Itself staking everything on an uncompromising silent aesthetic (monochrome, Academy framed and with intertitles), except when deliciously subverting it as in the hero's nightmare, the film achieves heights of comedy and pathos through faithful application of silent movie techniques. Matched shots of pairs of crossed legs link two scenes; a discarded flier for the new Valentin picture, soaked in rain, is walked over by a succession of feet; the future lovers' legs perform a duel of dancing steps beneath a screen preventing them from recognising their owners: these and other examples reveal a work of devoted artistry rather than mere parody. But there is also a mischievous wit at work, as in the more parodic OSS films by the same team, so that the silent burst of applause heard only by the characters at the beginning, or the tapdancing feet and sudden irruption of dialogue at the end function as sparing postmodern toyings with audience expectations. Elsewhere there are deliberate quotations from other film classics, such as The Crowd or It, as well as a noted appropriation of Herrmann's Vertigo love theme, antithetically used to accompany a suspense sequence (the whole score is a tremendous piece of work, justly recognised at the BAFTAs). In sum, this is a quantum leap for Hazanavicius and Dujardin, disguising in its gimmicky wrappings a work of deceptive warmth and subtlety. (Repeated viewing yields irritation at the underwriting of Penelope Ann Miller's part, and at the hero's extended wallow in self-pity, which unbalances the film.)
(L'artiste)
Country: FR/BEL
Technical: bw/1.37:1 100m
Director: Michel Hazanavicius
Cast: Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, Penelope Ann Miller, James Cromwell, John Goodman
Synopsis:
1927: a matinee idol literally bumps into an extra on the rise and helps her get her first bit part. 1929: with her star in the ascendant and himself resistant to the coming of sound he stakes everything on one last silent picture.
Review:
Naturally reminiscent of A Star Is Born and the John Gilbert affair combined, this risky commercial venture confounded all expectation for a crossover French film in being a huge international success. Itself staking everything on an uncompromising silent aesthetic (monochrome, Academy framed and with intertitles), except when deliciously subverting it as in the hero's nightmare, the film achieves heights of comedy and pathos through faithful application of silent movie techniques. Matched shots of pairs of crossed legs link two scenes; a discarded flier for the new Valentin picture, soaked in rain, is walked over by a succession of feet; the future lovers' legs perform a duel of dancing steps beneath a screen preventing them from recognising their owners: these and other examples reveal a work of devoted artistry rather than mere parody. But there is also a mischievous wit at work, as in the more parodic OSS films by the same team, so that the silent burst of applause heard only by the characters at the beginning, or the tapdancing feet and sudden irruption of dialogue at the end function as sparing postmodern toyings with audience expectations. Elsewhere there are deliberate quotations from other film classics, such as The Crowd or It, as well as a noted appropriation of Herrmann's Vertigo love theme, antithetically used to accompany a suspense sequence (the whole score is a tremendous piece of work, justly recognised at the BAFTAs). In sum, this is a quantum leap for Hazanavicius and Dujardin, disguising in its gimmicky wrappings a work of deceptive warmth and subtlety. (Repeated viewing yields irritation at the underwriting of Penelope Ann Miller's part, and at the hero's extended wallow in self-pity, which unbalances the film.)
(L'artiste)
Country: FR/BEL
Technical: bw/1.37:1 100m
Director: Michel Hazanavicius
Cast: Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, Penelope Ann Miller, James Cromwell, John Goodman
Synopsis:
1927: a matinee idol literally bumps into an extra on the rise and helps her get her first bit part. 1929: with her star in the ascendant and himself resistant to the coming of sound he stakes everything on one last silent picture.
Review:
Naturally reminiscent of A Star Is Born and the John Gilbert affair combined, this risky commercial venture confounded all expectation for a crossover French film in being a huge international success. Itself staking everything on an uncompromising silent aesthetic (monochrome, Academy framed and with intertitles), except when deliciously subverting it as in the hero's nightmare, the film achieves heights of comedy and pathos through faithful application of silent movie techniques. Matched shots of pairs of crossed legs link two scenes; a discarded flier for the new Valentin picture, soaked in rain, is walked over by a succession of feet; the future lovers' legs perform a duel of dancing steps beneath a screen preventing them from recognising their owners: these and other examples reveal a work of devoted artistry rather than mere parody. But there is also a mischievous wit at work, as in the more parodic OSS films by the same team, so that the silent burst of applause heard only by the characters at the beginning, or the tapdancing feet and sudden irruption of dialogue at the end function as sparing postmodern toyings with audience expectations. Elsewhere there are deliberate quotations from other film classics, such as The Crowd or It, as well as a noted appropriation of Herrmann's Vertigo love theme, antithetically used to accompany a suspense sequence (the whole score is a tremendous piece of work, justly recognised at the BAFTAs). In sum, this is a quantum leap for Hazanavicius and Dujardin, disguising in its gimmicky wrappings a work of deceptive warmth and subtlety. (Repeated viewing yields irritation at the underwriting of Penelope Ann Miller's part, and at the hero's extended wallow in self-pity, which unbalances the film.)