Tell me a story

From the word “go” I was excited by the idea of someone doing a modern spin on the silent film. I’d only seen bits and pieces of silent films before, and while they were interesting, that whole era of film never really intrigued me; it was too old and didn’t appeal to my modern sensibilities. But once I heard about The Artist, I was on board right away. I thought I’d be able to relate to a silent film made today more than one from the 1920’s. What I was most interested in was how you tell a compelling story without using dialogue.

The first thing you’re going to need is a compelling story. George Valentin’s is just that. When we first meet him, George (played marvelously by Jean Dujardin) is at the height of his success as a silent film star in the 1920’s. He’s adored by the public and an integral player at his movie studio. He meets rising starlet Peppy Miller (played by Bérénice Bejo), and the attraction is immediate. He’s at the peak of his life. But that’s the thing about peaks: there’s usually a drop-off on the other side.

The 1930’s brings with it the devastating stock market crash and the even more devastating (if only to George) advent of the “talkies”—films that synchronized dialogue with images on the screen. It marks the end of the silent era of film. If George wants to keep his success he’ll have to start over, learn the ropes of the new game just like everyone else; he’ll have to compete with everyone else. He hasn’t had to compete for a long time. He’s grown so extremely comfortable with his life. He doesn’t want change. Change proves to be very dangerous for him.

At its heart, the movie is about a man brought down by his own hubris. We’ve seen this kind of story before, but here it’s rendered anew thanks to the singular performances by Dujardin and Bejo and the style in which it’s told. Funny how an old story is made new again by reaching into the past.

As for the lack of dialogue, it wasn’t missed at all. Of course, there were dialogue cards to convey thoughts that no amount of gesturing could express. But for the most part you don’t need to know the words that are being spoken. I don’t know if anyone has ever said this before, but actions speak louder than words. We can see George’s pride in the way he walks, the way interacts with others, in his life-sized painting of himself. We can see Peppy’s feelings for George in the way she looks at him, in the way she looks after him. We see everything. We don’t need to be told. I’m sure no one has ever said, “Show, don’t tell” before, but it’s a smart idea.

Since actions do speak so loudly, you need actors who can, well, truly “act.” Dujardin and Bejo were so perfect in their roles because they are such expressive performers. They both have such communicative faces. Near the beginning there’s a great scene where they’re shooting a movie together, and we get to witness how George transforms into his character. Before every take, he flares his nostrils, arches an eyebrow, fixes his gaze. His face is his character. His face is his voice. No wonder he doesn’t want talkies to thrive: How do you act by using your voice? He doesn’t know.

The movie also uses a lot of subtext to convey meaning. In one scene, George passes beneath a movie marquee that reads, “Lonely Star.” It’s appropriately shot from a distance. What perfect characterization. In another scene, George and Peppy run into each other on a staircase. She’s on her way up, he’s headed down. I’m sure there are so many other subtle clues like these that will stand out even more clearly upon a second viewing.

I give so much credit to director Michel Hazanavicius because this movie is so well made that it makes silent films look easy to pull off, and I know it couldn’t have been. I’m glad he tried, and I’m glad it got released, and I’m glad I saw it. Now, just as a technical curiosity, I’d love to see what the screenplay with no dialogue looks like.

The Artist
Director: Michel Hazanavicius (OSS 117: Lost in Rio, OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies)
Screenplay: Michel Hazanavicius