The Artist is a victim of circumstance. The very minute it won Best Picture during the 2012 Academy Awards, the backlash against the film began. And while there's plenty of reason to be fuming over the choice (many of the nominees were worthy of the golden statue), most of the complaints really had nothing to do with the film itself.
Rather, much of the frustration was geared at the Weinstein Company, an indie powerhouse known for winning a great many Oscars throughout the years. They turned an otherwise harmless, cute, spirited comedy into something of a sideshow, painting it with as much hyperbole as they could throw on the film. And really, no film should have to undergo such misguided hype.
At its core, The Artist is just an enormously pleasing, if superfluous, ride down memory lane, to an era of great transition, and great depression. It's a silent film, shot much like the films of the era, and driven by its lovely score, terrific silent performances and an entertaining narrative.
In the film, we follow George Valentin (Oscar winner Jean Dujardin), a silent film star whose career is shaken with the birth of talking pictures. His go-to studio doesn't want to keep making pictures with him, and in a matter of years, he's a washed-up has-been with nothing to his name. Enter Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), a young starlet he met during his heyday, who's quickly transformed into a superstar of talkies. Having long had a crush on Valentin, she attempts to awaken his spirit.
Let me pause for a moment to note the film's amusing similarity to the narrative template of Doug Liman's Swingers. In that film, the main character is in a state of self-loathing following the breakup with his longtime girlfriend. Despite his best friends telling him how great he is, he continues to wallow and fall apart. Eventually (spoiler alert), he meets a young girl and bonds with her over dancing, finally escaping the clutches of a tragic fate.
In The Artist, our hero is a self-loathing man overcoming a breakup with the studio. Despite his friends (mostly Peppy Miller, who also acts like Vince Vaughn's character) telling him he's great, he continues to wallow and fall apart, losing his home and livelihood in the process. Eventually (spoiler alert, though the Blu-ray box art already spoils this) he bonds with Peppy over dancing, reclaiming his former stardom, escaping one possible, and very tragic, doom.
See the similarity? That's not really a complaint against the picture, just an observation. If the film has any faults, though, it's in the pacing. At 100 minutes, The Artist has a tendency to drag on, especially considering the simplistic, and silent, narrative.
The story also falters with the logic behind Valentin's forced retirement. If you know anything about the tragic transition from silent films to talkies, you'll know that most silent actors didn't make the leap not because the studio wanted “fresh meat,” but rather, because those stars were not trained in subtle acting, but exaggerated expression. And, in some cases, these actors couldn't even speak English. The motivation for Valentin's exit from cinema is certainly tragic, but it's not as truthfully tragic as the real story.
But don't hold these faults against the picture too much. The film is delightfully charming, riddled with wonderfully amusing performances, a terrific score (from Ludovic Bource), a great sense of nostalgia, and some of the best cinematography of the year. Director Michel Hazanavicius does a great job making the film look and feel like it was a product of the era, too. And Valentin's cute little dog steals the show more often than Snowy did in Spielberg's The Adventures of Tintin.
The Artist is a touch superfluous, and some might find it lacking when it comes to depth and true meaning. But the film should provide 100 minutes of fun for anyone with a fondness and affection for silent cinema, with a dash of melodramatic romance and dancing. Is the film Best Picture worthy? That's debatable, but it's hard to debate that The Artist isn't a solid piece of classy movie-making.
The film comes to Blu-ray courtesy of Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. The Blu-ray/UltraViolet combo pack is presented in full frame (the intended aspect ratio), mixed in 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio.
Shot with Super35, The Artist has an intentionally nuanced appearance. The black-and-white image has been matted to 1.33:1, and degraded to look like dated film. Alas, despite some great cinematography, this transfer doesn't really look like vintage (cleaned up) silent film, but boasts a softer, less detailed melodramatic look, similar to B&W films of the '50s, not the '20s and '30s. Also a bit troubling are the hard edges noticeable on text, both on the opening logos and text within the film. It's hard to say exactly why this happened, but it renders a transfer that simply isn't its very best.
The film's sound mix, presented in 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio, is equally disappointing. Silent cinema was often accompanied by a live orchestra who would score the film while the action played on screen. One would assume this mix would match that level of enveloping power a live orchestra brings, providing a mix that plays like a live concert. Unfortunately, this track does nothing of the sort. Instead, it's a front-locked, shockingly soft mix that's disappointingly subdued and overly quiet for no good reason. It's possible director Michel Hazanavicius was going for a more mono-like listening experience, but it's a puzzling decision that dampens the overall presentation.
Extras include a series of explorative making-of featurettes (totaling roughly 40 minutes, in HD). There's also a lengthy, 45-minute in-depth Q&A with Missi Pyle, James Cromwell, Jean Dujardin, and Bérénice Bejo; director Michel Hazanavicius and producer Thomas Langmann. Rounding out the disc, there's a series of trailers and a blooper reel. The disc also comes with an UltraViolet cloud streaming digital copy of the film.
It's hard to fully recommend The Artist, as some will inevitably find the film boring, simplistic or just too “artsy,” and that's partly the fault of the Best Picture label – it attracts an audience who might not appreciate the film for what it is. That said, there's plenty to adore about The Artist, and the film should manage to win over many film goers, especially longtime lovers of cinema. If only the Blu-ray looked a bit sharper and sounded more lively. Regardless, this disc is worth a spin.
Source : ign[dot]com
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