Michel Hazanavicius's homage to the era of black and white silent movies has been lauded as a brave, funny and moving piece of film-making. It tells the story of George Valentin (a star-making performance from Jean Dujardin), a silent movie actor who finds himself dinosaured when the talkies start making a big noise in Hollywood. George's career is on the slide, his marriage is failing and his fortune is dwindling - but he's not without friends, notably his dog (a canine-Oscar worthy performance from "Uggie") and his former butler, Clifton (the always excellent James Cromwell). Then there's Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo, another name to watch), an up-and-coming starlet whose career follows the opposite path to George's as she becomes the first genuine star of the talkies. Will she remember the silent star who gave her big break... and will George's wounded pride allow him to accept her help?
The Artist arrives on a huge wave of hype and it's certainly unlike any other film I've seen in a long time. It took a while for my brain to adjust to watching a movie with no dialogue, but one pivotal scene where George faces up to the fact that sound is the future (and he's the past) made it all click. Although there's nothing revolutionary about the plot, the way it's told should be celebrated as a lesson to film-makers and storytellers everywhere. It certainly made me realise how lazy a lot of contemporary directors have become with regards telling (via dialogue) rather than showing (via visuals). In the bloated 3D SFX era, The Artist was a breath of fresh air... and a must-see movie for writers everywhere, particularly those working in any kind of visual media (not just film or TV - but comics too). No one's a bigger fan of well-crafted dialogue than me - but at risk of paraphrasing Ronan Keating (or Alison Krauss, to maintain some semblance of cred), sometimes you do say it best... when you say nothing at all.
