The Artist - Blu-ray Review

'worthy of note both in and of itself and for its euphoric success against competition of much higher means and lower intentions'

Not being an expert on early silent cinema, I may struggle to contextualise The Artist as well as others have done. Be that as it may, in purely contemporary terms, the film's achievements should not be underestimated as time draws on past its Academy Award for Best Picture. That a silent, black and white film gained enough attention and support to win multiple Oscars, in a year where dreck like Transformers: Dark Of The Moon was also nominated and Michael Bay's retirement from that franchise was treated as headline fodder by many, is nothing short of remarkable.

Whilst it may not be the instant classic many proclaimed it - the reviews of the home release seem notably to have abandoned the hyperbole - Michel Hazanavicius' multi-Oscar winner is still a work of fine expression, rich in subtext and theme, warm of plot and character. Ludovic Bource's score - which secured the film one of its five Oscars - is nothing short of a masterpiece, booming triumphantly, without ever taking on the tweeness of more dated orchestral pieces.

The rich narrative too is mainly masterfully negotiated by Hazanavicius', who sets us up for his 'films-within-a-film-about-film' with the very first scene, George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) lurking behind the screen which his new feature plays on, to an audience packing out a literal and metaphorical auditorium. A sign hangs both unironically and ironically in the background; 'Please Be Silent'. The Artist is a film about the history of film but also about our changing consumption of it and (and The Artist might come to reflect this to a more potent degree as time goes on) the often fleeting level of success any given production can enjoy.

As the 'talkies' arrive, the sweeping modernity which threatens Valentin's way of life (look for this to also be dealt with in Terence Davies' forthcoming adaptation of Lewis Grassic Gibbon's Sunset Song) barrel rolls past those who dare to doubt it, Valentin clinging on in the romanticised hope that he can outlast progress. Is there a stab here from the film industry at the doubters of the current phase of 3D? Probably not from the director, but don't bet against the suggestion that some of the support for The Artist may well have been drummed up on the backing of this thematic thread.

For all its artistic brilliance (Guillaume Schiffman's cinematography is also exceptional) though, The Artist is not perfect. Scenes go on for far too long, a patience stretcher, particularly in the last half and Hazanavicius' grasp of narrative falters once or twice too often. The end is ill-explained, Valentin's relationship with his wife is muckily handled and ten minutes of cuts could have worked wonders. Still, this is fine, fine work, worthy of note both in and of itself and for its euphoric success against competition of much higher means and lower intentions.