Oh, This is so unexpected...I'm so excited. Where do I begin? Well, first of all, I'd like to thank the Academy for the re-release of The Artist. One of the problems with Denver being a smaller market, is that limited releases tend to get here later, run on fewer screens, and leave pretty quickly. All that is to say I wanted to get to it the first time around, I just didn't have a chance. If you haven't gotten a chance to see The Artist yet, do so. It is very good and like a big 3D event movie, like Avatar, this silent film will not translate well to DVD.
The Artist is not truly a silent film. In fact, it uses sound more effectively than any film I have ever seen. The music is so engaging and the actors are so expressive that dialogue feels unnecessary and unwanted. Sound effects are rare and where they are it is typically as an outward expression of the protagonists fears. The first sound effects we hear are literally a nightmare with the cacophony reaching deafening levels while George is himself silenced. (See, I can do serious analysis. I choose not to.)
Up next for discussion: Is Peppy insane? She flirts with George between 1927 and early 1929, but the relationship doesn't quite get romantic before their live start to drift apart. During their last conversations in the twenties, George makes it pretty clear he hates her. But in 1931, she buys up all his things and then his Clifton. All to make him happy. When she takes in the injured George in 1932, we are getting into Misery territory. All of this could be dismissed as not totally unrequited love, if it wasn't for one little thing: her mole. George first drew on her beauty mark early on in the film and we see her apply it a few times later on before going to work, but towards the end of the film she is wearing it all the time in scenes where she is clearly not in costume or had her hair done. The perpetual mole and her obsessive tendencies towards a man she has not talked to in three years indicates a clear break with reality.
After George fired Clifton, there were a couple minutes I thought Clifton might get preserved in dolomite, baby.
The silent nature of this film also made me keenly aware of a grave threat to our nations multiplexes: Old people pointing out the obvious. What is it about being over 50 that gives you the license to talk during a movie? Is it one of the benefits of AARP membership? It might be different if they felt the need to point out subtle gags such as George waking under a sign which reads "Lonely Star" or they were making acute and cutting observational comedy. But senior citizens only feel compelled to speak when what they have to say is incredibly obvious. Here are some peanut gallery observations I was treated to during The Artist: "That's the dog.", "Noise.", and "It was her car hitting the tree, not the gun, that made the bang." Thank you, geriatrics, I could not have gotten those on my own.
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