This week’s Friday Noon Movie Club pick was The Artist. Now, I knew things were a little different this time around, because instead of walking into a theater populated mainly by middle-aged men attending stag (which, though I am middle-aged myself, and each time I go I might find myself attending stag, still creeps me out), the theater held 3 or 4 couples, of decidedly older ages. Seemed like sort of a sweet beginning!
And then I was joined by 4 friends. We started off the afternoon by admiring the multitude of rocks on the left ring finger of one lucky lady (and no, he didn’t go to Jared). Going to be an exciting summer!
We watched a very random assortment of previews--several of which I've seen approximately 25 times now. I have to say, I'm very curious about Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. Maybe it's just Ewan McGregor. I'll be belting out songs from Moulin Rouge any moment now.
Okay, the first thing you need to know if you are going to see The Artist in a theater: a silent movie may not be the best place to eat popcorn. The Artist is a black and white silent movie. While there is music, just as in the old silent films, it’s not blasted through the stereo system in the same way to which we are accustomed, at least not at our showing. Crunching popcorn suddenly takes on a new resonance. One friend must have left the theater with an almost full bag of popcorn, because I don’t think she ate more than a handful during the movie.
It’s also not a great place to have your cell phone go off unexpectedly, as happened to the lady on my right. In fact, it’s not a great place to whisper about the movie or talk at all. On the other hand, there’s no need for anyone to whisper loudly, “What’d he say?” because he didn’t say anything.
I’m a word person, so it kills me to not know what the character is saying. I found myself tensing up at times, just waiting for some words to appear on the screen to let me know what the heck they were saying! But after a while, it becomes the norm, and you develop a new patience with the story.
Now on to the movie. On the surface, The Artist is a throwback to the old days, using the old methods of showing story and character without actually hearing the actors speak. George Valentin is a silent film star loved by legions of fans. We get to know George and his life through lots of exaggerated facial expressions, shadows, reflections, newspaper headlines (Who’s That Girl? is plastered across the paper that his distant wife is holding in front of her face), and other hints. George meets an aspiring actress, Peppy, who charms him, and everyone else. George is himself entertaining and charming, but he is also a proud man.
His pride makes it very difficult to deal with the sudden change that movies with sound bring to the industry. He struggles to keep his career moving forward, losing much through things he can and can’t control. Meanwhile, Peppy is moving up in the ranks, a rising star in the new “talkie” medium. You can’t miss the wonderfully filmed scene where the fading George meets Peppy on a staircase—George is going down, while Peppy is going up. People are moving quickly around them, all looking like they are going places. George doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.
It’s a tribute, I think, to Jean Dujardin, who played George, that I liked his character as much as I did, in spite of his pride and self-absorption. Peppy lives up to her name, as played by Berenice Bejo, a lively young woman with an incredible smile.
This movie is partly about the transition from silent films to talking pictures, and it is partly a romance. It is also an exploration of the way we find our own identity, often falling into the trap of believing what is reflected in the eyes of others or believing our own press.
Another aspect of the story is our consumption of celebrity, putting one person high on a pedestal, then letting them tumble when something new comes along. We have witnessed this over and over in show business, and it’s even true for the high school football star who never quite makes it in college. Chris Smit, a professor at Calvin College, has written a book about this called The Exile of Britney Spears. He focuses in particular on the public’s consumption of young female stars, making Britney Spears his case study.
So there is more to this movie than meets the eye. But even what meets the eye is a movie that is sweet, funny, and has both charm and depth. And a really cute Jack Russell terrier.
**Odd sidenote—as I wrote this, Jean Dujardin showed up in an Artist skit on "Saturday Night Live"! Still pretty charming.
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