The Artist Review

Sat in a crowded screening room in London, full to the brim with cynical critics, an unusual sound was heard among the audience about halfway through The Artist. Was that… applause?

Such is the beauty, joy and incomparable cinematic majesty of this glorious film that even the most jaded journalist couldn't help himself that evening during a scene which distilled the wonder of this most unusual, yet familiar, of films.

A black and white, silent film with two unknown leads it may be, but The Artist tells a story that is pure Hollywood. In 1927, George Valentin is a silent movie era superstar whose career begins to fall apart as 'talkies' become the norm. Meanwhile, Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo) is an aspiring young actress who has a chance meeting with George that leads to her first acting gig. As her star rises, George's falls dramatically; his pride preventing him from embracing the new form, which has so readily embraced Peppy.

A love story, a Greek tragedy, a showcase for the skills of one of the greatest canine performances ever, The Artist works because its emotional beats are so perfectly in tune with its style, story and memorable characters. Director Michel Hazanavicius has made a film that extracts superlative turns from his two leads and remains wholly faithful to his artistic vision. In an era of Bayhem, franchise fatigue and one-dimensional characters seen through 3D glasses, Hazanavicius puts the art back into cinema. And that scene that caused the applause? Let's just say that you'll never set down a glass in the same way ever again.

*****