The Artist- a silent success in modern times

There is no doubt that The Artist is a huge success. The film has delighted audiences and critics alike and has gained a number of awards, including Golden Globes and 10 Oscar nominations. How has a silent, black and white film released in 2011 managed to garner such high levels of success?

The film contains a traditional love story and many layers of subtext including a knowing nod to a by-gone era, a comment on modernity within cinema and a movie about the movies. French director Michel Hazanavicius has made a truly knowing film that, more than most, is entirely devoted to the manipulation of its audience.

The Artist’s narrative is diverting without being thrilling or inordinately interesting and its characters are pleasant and at times charming without ever being truly memorable. The point is, and Hazanavicius knows this better than anyone, they do not have to be. As the film is a hugely developed homage to the silent era, the characters and the story itself do not exist to be new or even original; they exist to be symbolic and to make modern audiences, unfamiliar with the silent era except for only a very vague knowledge, feel as though they are gaining an authentic insight into silent cinema.

Both central characters possess the look of classic silent movie stars and the audience believe in them utterly. The fact that when they finally speak, they turn out to be French, is proof of Hazanavicius’s skill utilising silent film. The audience believe in what they are seeing as the actors (left), through facial expressions and their physical performance, are able to convince as American characters. It should also be noted that the moment at the end of the film when the seemingly all-American central characters speak aloud in French is proof of the director's agenda to indicate the immersive and persuasive nature of silent cinema. It says that silent film is universal and crosses boundaries irrespective of language and that audiences should be watching and enjoying far more silent cinema as it is clearly a powerful and effective form of the cinematic medium.

It is challenging to actually criticise a film that has been made so knowingly and self-consciously. Criticising aspects of technique, narrative elements or performance always run the risk of appearing to miss the point, that the very things that are being criticised are, in fact, totally intentional and exist to make a variety of points about audiences and the film industry. With this in mind, it is tempting to argue that Hazanavicius has truly pulled off a directorial coup. He has made a film that is arguably immune from criticism due to its introspective nature. This, however, is not why the film has proved to be a success. The elements of charm found in both the film’s narrative and it’s actors and their performances, ensure that unlike the similarly post-modern efforts of directors such as Quentin Tarantino and Spike Jonze, there is nothing overtly cool or angry and, therefore divisive and potentially unlikable. The fact remains, however, that The Artist, like films such as Adaptation or Pulp Fiction, is a film that is playing with and, at times, mocking audiences and their expectations and preconceived notions.

Spike Jonze’s brilliant Adaptation, for instance, follows a screenwriter played by Nicolas Cage who is disdainful and totally at odds with what he perceives to be the stifling nature of traditional Hollywood film scripts that adhere to the rigidity of the three-act structure and character arcs. Cage, of course, ends up being involved in a three-act and atypically Hollywood-esque narrative. Adaptation then seems to mock audiences for agreeing with Cage’s initial agenda but then becoming totally swept up and emotionally involved in the chain of events that happen to him and which actually follow the very narrative devices he is so against.

What separates The Artist from the aforementioned films is its ability to be overtly post-modern in a way that does not patronise or display any misery, anger or a self-satisfied swagger. This results in audiences feeling as though they have seen a film that knowingly references other films and the very nature of cinema itself but does not do so in a way that can leave itself open to accusations of arrogance or cynicism. The film, in just about every sense, personifies charm. It contains a handsome and funny male lead, a beautiful and vivacious heroine and a cute and loveable dog (above) that performs tricks. Combined with a love story and a musical scores that encapsulates a wide range of emotions, it is, in fact, not so surprising that the film has proved to be a success. However, The Artist is also a film with a post-modern agenda and has what some might perceive as an intellectual axe to grind yet it has proved to be a huge success and has not turned off audiences. For this, Michel Hazanvicius should be applauded.