The Artist

The pure charm of film escapism. A film about a time when celluloid burned, which burns itself and yet miraculously does not burn itself with too much reverence and foresight into the past. The work with a soundtrack and a silent film is a famous directorial move, not only because it cleverly brings to the fore what would never have stood out in a spoken film, but also because it is almost ingenious in its simplicity. A silent film that did not elevate its silence to a dubious fetish (let's love how beautiful it was, we will not see that anymore today), but the most significant narrative component (the film is magical in itself, not because it reminds us of something). Hazanavicius did work that I applaud. If any critics wrote of The Descendants as a worked gem, they mistook the film. This is a feel good gem from which my jaw dropped. (22/01/2012)

I wasn't particularly impressed with the previous effort of the director and the two main actors, Agent 117, but I couldn't deny one thing - it really looked like something from the (roughly) 1960s. In The Artist, the filmmakers have managed to repeat this and to enhance it with a classic, but really nice story full of humor and nostalgia. The illusion that one is really watching a film from 192? is almost perfect (although anyone who has seen the Argentine The Aerial will probably not be impressed). The cinematography, the music, all the details, the central couple (Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford) acting and dancing like a dream, John Goodman, who I liked the most, James Cromwell... Everything's perfect. The Artist is an incredibly clever film. If I wanted to reproach it for anything, I would have to reproach all the old films it is dealing with... Which would be useless. (29/02/2012)

Who would have thought that a silent film can astonish me even at a time when talkies are the norm and we’re seeing the rise of 3D movies? In fact, it is an absolutely beautiful throwback and homage to the film of the past. And this is what the very imaginative story of this movie is based on. Well, I have to admit that although Jean Dujardin seemed a bit crazy to me in his earlier films, here he showed that he’s a master of his craft even without sound. Perhaps I will never forget the scene where he appears at the ball, frowns and looks for something. There are so many emotions in that face that it can’t even be described. At that moment you’ll just fully understand what that means. And you’ll find out you can do without any lines or sound without a problem. The same goes for the final scene. I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful dance number. And shot in one go? Oh my God, is someone still filming such scenes these days? Hats off, for such a film experience does not occur every day. And that’s probably a good thing; thanks to this, this film gains a lot of uniqueness, which it will never lose. (21/12/2013)

The Artist is certainly not nearly as bad as my single star would suggest, but it is also not nearly as good as the enthusiastic comments and five-star ratings from others would imply. I will completely leave aside the fact that it has numerous Oscar nominations and a real chance of winning overall because the bestowal of Oscars has never represented and does not represent a stamp of quality in the history of cinema. The Oscars simply represent the calculation of the film academy, which succumbs to certain trends, moods, and clever advertising by distributors, just like the audience itself. I will say it like this: The Artist is a typical midcult, as defined by Umberto Eco in his book of essays dedicated to culture. This means a skillfully made film that pretends to be avant-garde and cleverly plays with the snobbery of those film viewers who scorn ordinary consumer production and present themselves as admirers of artful productions. It is a film that does not burden the brain, does not hide within itself any ideas or artistic risk, and relies on the certainties and professionalism of filmmaking. Of course, it is not original either; this has been seen several times before, and I would say in a less pleasing but more emotionally convincing execution. The Artist is unlucky because I saw it in a movie theater that I rarely visit and I am overly picky. If I saw it on TV, I would have turned it off after 20 minutes and not reviewed it. Under these circumstances, it made me furious, especially since I had company with me and couldn't leave the movie theater. For me, this film is simply too pleasing and superficial; emotionally, I completely missed the point and I could engage with its game. It reminds me of the huge soap bubbles that my children created at the water park. They look impressive, but they burst immediately and nothing remains of them. In two years, when the current Oscar fascination fades away and the effect of the smart marketing campaign of the production company wears off, I don't think anyone will even mention The Artist. But there are a few positives. Bérénice Bejo is truly lovely, and the stylization of the late 1920s, although it has little in common with the reality of the events in film production at that time, has its charm. Also, if it were edited into a stylish 30-minute slapstick, it would evoke completely different feelings in me. Overall impression: 25%. (25/02/2012)

Playful and in love with film. If it hadn't forcefully slid into the existential realm and screamed so boldly about "silent" emotions in the last act, The Artist would have been the daredevil of the year and now rightfully collecting its laurels. As it is, I can't escape the feeling of a slightly desired gradation that works a bit less in this form than it could, but in the end, I still have to praise it. The main couple shines in every smile or dance, period films force me into nostalgia, and the retro soundtrack works so perfectly that I devoured the transformation into the twenties to the last frame. As a whole, however, due to the aforementioned, only 75%. (27/01/2012)