The Artist

Incredibly sweet, playful, a delight for the eye, the ear and the spirit of all old people, among whom I also count myself. The dance number at the end was so terribly cute that I was grinning from ear to ear. And if I were a woman, I'd kill for Jean Dujardin's irresistible smile. Since I'm a man, at least my platonic love for Berenice Bejo will have to suffice :o) (02/04/2012)

The transition from the silent to the sound era was a major turning point in the world of cinema, and for many actors and directors who didn't want to adapt (or couldn't), it meant the end of a stellar career. This film nicely shows the tense situation of the late 1930s and very credibly and elegantly portrays the atmosphere and conditions in the film world at the time. As for the actors, I was satisfied, even if there's not much to say, it's all accompanied by apt and funny gestures. And the little dog was really cute. The music was a great second to the picture, as was the very sparse (but purposeful) use of sound. In short, a film that is a quality piece on all its levels, which is interesting mainly for its conception and technical execution. (05/04/2012)

The Artist is certainly not nearly as bad as my single star would suggest, but it is also not nearly as good as the enthusiastic comments and five-star ratings from others would imply. I will completely leave aside the fact that it has numerous Oscar nominations and a real chance of winning overall because the bestowal of Oscars has never represented and does not represent a stamp of quality in the history of cinema. The Oscars simply represent the calculation of the film academy, which succumbs to certain trends, moods, and clever advertising by distributors, just like the audience itself. I will say it like this: The Artist is a typical midcult, as defined by Umberto Eco in his book of essays dedicated to culture. This means a skillfully made film that pretends to be avant-garde and cleverly plays with the snobbery of those film viewers who scorn ordinary consumer production and present themselves as admirers of artful productions. It is a film that does not burden the brain, does not hide within itself any ideas or artistic risk, and relies on the certainties and professionalism of filmmaking. Of course, it is not original either; this has been seen several times before, and I would say in a less pleasing but more emotionally convincing execution. The Artist is unlucky because I saw it in a movie theater that I rarely visit and I am overly picky. If I saw it on TV, I would have turned it off after 20 minutes and not reviewed it. Under these circumstances, it made me furious, especially since I had company with me and couldn't leave the movie theater. For me, this film is simply too pleasing and superficial; emotionally, I completely missed the point and I could engage with its game. It reminds me of the huge soap bubbles that my children created at the water park. They look impressive, but they burst immediately and nothing remains of them. In two years, when the current Oscar fascination fades away and the effect of the smart marketing campaign of the production company wears off, I don't think anyone will even mention The Artist. But there are a few positives. Bérénice Bejo is truly lovely, and the stylization of the late 1920s, although it has little in common with the reality of the events in film production at that time, has its charm. Also, if it were edited into a stylish 30-minute slapstick, it would evoke completely different feelings in me. Overall impression: 25%. (25/02/2012)

Playful and in love with film. If it hadn't forcefully slid into the existential realm and screamed so boldly about "silent" emotions in the last act, The Artist would have been the daredevil of the year and now rightfully collecting its laurels. As it is, I can't escape the feeling of a slightly desired gradation that works a bit less in this form than it could, but in the end, I still have to praise it. The main couple shines in every smile or dance, period films force me into nostalgia, and the retro soundtrack works so perfectly that I devoured the transformation into the twenties to the last frame. As a whole, however, due to the aforementioned, only 75%. (27/01/2012)

The pure charm of film escapism. A film about a time when celluloid burned, which burns itself and yet miraculously does not burn itself with too much reverence and foresight into the past. The work with a soundtrack and a silent film is a famous directorial move, not only because it cleverly brings to the fore what would never have stood out in a spoken film, but also because it is almost ingenious in its simplicity. A silent film that did not elevate its silence to a dubious fetish (let's love how beautiful it was, we will not see that anymore today), but the most significant narrative component (the film is magical in itself, not because it reminds us of something). Hazanavicius did work that I applaud. If any critics wrote of The Descendants as a worked gem, they mistook the film. This is a feel good gem from which my jaw dropped. (21/01/2012)