Sunday, February 26, 2012

"The Artist"

Yesterday my faith in filmmaking was restored. I was transported from the subdivided Cineplex back to the days of movie immersion, wrought in an expansive theater with larger-than-life imagery. I saw the incandescent story of "The Artist." I went into the experience in an almost virginal state: I'd seen no trailer nor read any reviews. Its title meant that this movie was a must-see for me, as an actor, writer and lifelong lover of Hollywood. I doubt I can fully articulate the impression it made on me.

The tale of George Valentin and Peppy Miller, the former a soon-to-be-extinct silent movie star, the latter an aspiring actress swept into his world and beyond, "The Artist" asks the near-impossible from a 21st. century audience: that you plunk down nine bucks to watch a black and white film with virtually no dialogue. To those who say they'd rather not revisit the mute Twenties era, view a movie with no color, no car chase, explosions or sex scene, I say, balderdash! Miss this gem and miss out on one of the most rewarding times to be had in the world of entertainment.

"The Artist" is no mere valentine to a bygone age, it's a rebirth of everything we go to the movies for: to fall in love, to be moved, to emerge changed. Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo ignite the screen in their roles, representing The Old and The New at that critical historical juncture of the late Twenties, moving into the "talkies" of the early Thirties. The supporting players, everyone from the forgotten Penelope Ann Miller as Valentin's wife, to the always outstanding John Goodman as the studio executive, to James Cromwell as Valentin's loyal valet, are spot-on. The scene-stealing Jack Russell terrier, Uggie, Valentin's constant companion, is so delightful he'll make you want to run to the Humane Society and adopt a devoted canine.

"The Artist" explores the trajectory of fame and fortune, the relationship of the artist to his or her art, and the very nature of The Self. It elicits the gamut of emotions; a breezy comedy that plunges you into tragedy, evokes edge-of-your-seat tension, pathos, and ultimately uplifting triumph. Its final scene turned my knowing grin and tears into a 100-watt smile. Writer and director Michel Hazanavicius has created a simple, elegant, transforming experience in cinema. It's arguably the best film I've seen in a decade. Prognosticators buzz that its ten Academy Award nominations may garner it a Oscar night sweep. It certainly would be a travesty to hand a gold statue to Clooney or Pitt over the work of Jean Dujardin in the Best Actor category. The handsome French leading man has already taken home the Globe and the SAG. Admittedly, I've seen but a smattering of this year's contenders. IMHO, "The Artist" deserves to win big.