Slant Magazine

Yes, Hazanavicius could have made Hollywood Babylon or even remade Sunset Boulevard if he'd wanted to, and perhaps one day he will. No, it doesn't pander to our modern fascination with celebrity scandal and self-destruction but there is plenty "fascinating and memorable" about this film all the same. To call this an "unthinking hodgepodge" is simply ludicrous. It is one of the most well thought out films I've seen in a very long time, with every detail lovingly and intelligently rendered. I can hardly wait to see it again.

What a silly review. You seem to fault Hazanavicius for not adhering strictly to the historical facts and exacting aesthetics of this era of film, as if he is some uneducated nitwit, and I saw this as a deeply felt and loving tribute. You fault him, for example, for besmirching John Gilbert's fine name, and, sorry, but I don't see it. This is pretend. It's not intended to be a fully accurate portrayal of history. I see it as the very opposite of what you term as his "lazy, to the point of contemptuous, attitude toward said subjects." Everyone I know who has seen it thought it was a lovingly crafted tribute and, frankly, deeply moving. The nightmare sound-effects scene alone was worth the price of admission, the homage to the coat-rack in 7th Heaven and Stella Maris, I could go on and on. No doubt you despise Singin' in the Rain for its historical inaccuracies as well.

Let's not lose perspective. THE ARTIST is **nothing** like SINGIN' IN THE RAIN. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

SINGIN' IN THE RAIN is the greatest musical ever made, so I'm certainly not going to say THE ARTIST is anywhere near those lofty heights. My main point of contention is the assertion that Hazanavicius holds silent film in contempt.

I don't think it's contempt exactly, but the indifference to the era that actually irks me a great deal more. SINGIN' IN THE RAIN is irreverent, which is neither contemptuous nor indifferent. Also, the period covered in THE ARTIST is 1927-1933, i.e. the dawn of sound. Where's the love of early talkies? '27-'33 might be the very pinnacle of the cinema, in Hollywood and out, but you wouldn't know it.

Thank you for putting into words my feeling about this film. I wanted to like this movie i really did and the first 35 minutes or so were well done. The complete lift of the 'Singin' in the rain' story started to bother me but i gainfully hung on for the ride. I liked the lead actors performance and thought the photography and art direction was great. BUT this seemingly carefully made souffle of a movie started to collapse in on itself and by the time the first few notes of the music from 'Vertigo' began I was lifted completley away from the film and could see the strings. It seemed that the 'Vertigo' music was probably used as a temp track and then the Director 'had to have the rights to use it' -what a 1950's movie soundtrack had to do with a film set in the 20s-early 30's I have no idea. Your comments of 'indifference' are spot on. I now know why I didn't like this film. As the bandwagon grows for the 'love' of this film I may have to start picketing the oscar voters not to get taken in by a film that pretends to be something it is not.

I am completely baffled by this writer's review. It truly misrepresents what this film is. This is a love story that takes place during the last days of the silent film era. It is not a documentary about the history of cinema in the era of American Silent Film in Hollywood! It is this director's narrative take on a silent film star's unwillingness to transition to a new era in film making. It's also about devotion and refusing to let go of the past. Hazanavicius' approach is beautifully cinematic, refreshing and unique. I loved this film and it should not be missed!

This is the best critical analysis of the film I've yet seen. I agree—the films meant to represent silent cinema seem trashy; thus the main character hardly seems like an "artist" for acting in them — and there were many artists working in the medium at the time. The film seems more an homage to the now-all-too-familiar plots of later Hollywood, i.e. A Star Is Born, Singing In The Rain, Sunset Boulevard., than a true meditation on or evocation of the splendors of the silent era.

Unlike Bionico, I am not baffled by this review. The review has its cares, and they're important. But such stringency can strain out some real good, intended and received. Direction = point of view. Hazanavicius has one, and while it is highly educated in the dramas of this time, it has a bit less to do with them than with the dramas shared at all times. What becomes important in this film is metaphor—silence, otherness, monkey-suiting, the old meeting the new and how they resolve. I found in this film homage, many still-points of beauty, a key for the beginnings of today's psychology and cinema. The Artist is not a documentary. And anyone thinking that The Artist presents as trashy those films representing silents may want to revisit the montage in his or her own head: Taken at face value, today, these films are trashy, no? As Peppy says, clowning. It's one's experience with the silents that proves otherwise. I saw this film tonight in Hollywood, and the audience was still and reverent at first, getting used to the context; after a bit, they were awed, delighted, cheering. In an industry where Michael Bay rules the banks and film school teachers instruct their students to simplify, the victory of this film—maybe 20 subtitles in an hour and forty minutes?—seems pretty clear.

The Artist is a truly wonderful film. It is not a hodgepodge disaster, but rather a beautiful masterpiece of tragedy and drama. Although it pays homage to the greatness of silent films, it is not intended to be about the filmmaking renaissance that occurred during the 1920s, but instead a tale that brilliantly details an actor's downfall. It is deeply moving artwork, not a boring historical documentary, and it certainly does NOT hold its subject in contempt. Mrs. Christley is entitled to her own opinion, but I believe that she is being far too narrow minded.

I just saw the movie and completely agree with the reviewer. I felt as though I was watching an elongated toothpaste commercial. Stylistically interesting but I felt no sympathy at all for the characters. I felt as though the creators of the movie were trying to manipulate my emotions through well-worn techniques.

What a ridiculous film. Yes, it was shot well, yes, the cars (and some of the costumes) were exquisite. But it failed on so many levels, from the trivial ("screenwriter" was not spelled like that in the '20s and '30s) to the comical (I've never seen so many lips moving in a silent movie) to the crucial (a total waste of Goodman and Cromwell — talk about characters with no arc: they were characters with barely no character). And let's not even bring up structure. This is an actor who can fill a theater with (silently) screaming fans, then suddenly find himself with four people in the audience, and why? Because Goodman decides (again for no discernible reason, seeing as how he's filling up theaters) to get into talkies. This not only turns Valentin into a has-been, but gives all people everywhere instant amnesia...they don't even recognize him on the street a year later. How about a little effort at story, maybe? Or these things called transitions?

Even reviewers who liked it called it 'slight.' It's so slight, it barely exists. Jaime N. Christle, I registered just to bless you. You'll get flak from myriad people who have never seen a silent movie in their lives and so are impressed by this poor excuse. Don't let 'em get you down. Sooner or later, the "Ordinary People" effect will come and bite this slight little effort in its silent little ass.

What "The Artist" takes from "Singin' in the Rain" is less its plot than the scene where Debbie Reynolds tells Gene Kelly that movie acting is "all just dumb show" and proceeds to mug. This style of mugging runs throughout "The Artist."

There are far too many examples of the greatness of silent film than it's possible to name , so I'll just cite two: Marcel L'Herbier's "L'Argent" and Yasujiro Ozu's "I Was Born But. . ." As for early sound film, lend an eye and ear to Sternberg's "Thunderbolt" and Mamoulian's "Applause."

Thanks for the thoughtful review, and for comments from LaWally, CSilver, Rob Humanick, TStairs and LHR2LAX. I second all of their posts. And I'd like to add what seems to me an obvious — though unanswered — question. Exactly WHY does the hero refuse to work in talking pictures? Does he have a harsh or nasal-sounding voice? No explanation is ever given for his refusal. In one brief scene we see him dismissing talkies as a cheap gimmick, but surely after a very short while anyone with a business sense would have told him to face reality. And with his handsome face, why wouldn't he have promptly done so and continued working?

Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you to the small band of people who haven't been swept up in the tsunami of Oscars hysteria!

I have no desire to write a critique of this terribly ordinary picture: it's enough to know that there are others (bless you all) whose critical faculties are still alive and kicking. Somewhere out there, in Cyberspaceland, I have brothers and sisters.

I wish I understood what's happened to the culture. With every passing year there seems to be more of everything, yet less of something. These days I feel grateful if there's one novel, one movie, one play, one tv show and one pop song that makes my heart sing in the span of a year.

Anyway, this little nothing of a movie certainly didn't make the grade. I, for one, won't be cheering when it sweeps the board on Oscar night. That said, is there one movie on the list that deserves better? What a thoroughly awful year this has been for films.

Sometimes one wonders whether the simple fact of getting older (I'm 52) is the problem. Am I just an old fart? But tonight I watched "The Artist" with my mother (75), my niece (23) and her boyfriend (25). We all thought it was a big, fake, smug POS.

Where, oh where, is Pauline Kael when we need her? I loved that woman's work when I was 21 - and she was, well, a lot older than I was. Yes, she could be a b*tch but never, ever without a solid, intellectual backing to her opinions.

I think I may just retire early, do a load of drugs and booze, and just pretend it's not happening...

@ lotsoftechnique - if you bothered to pay attention to the film, George Valentin is French with a heavy French accent. Dare I say his accent would have been a barrier in the first talkies.

This review of the film is too clever for its own good. Criticism for criticism's sake, and nothing more. The film should be critiqued on its own merit, not on what you were expecting from it. And why is the film being compared to SINGING IN THE RAIN??